Chapter 15

Emma is left in utter shock as she stares down the hall at where her beloved son had vanished, claiming he no longer wanted to live with her. It is then that her entire body breaks down and she sobs. Her heart feels like it's been stomped on and shattered into a million pieces. Her shoulders shake uncontrollably and her lungs seem to struggle to breathe. She's at the point of hyperventilating.

She pulls her legs up to her chest and curls into a ball. It felt like the only safe position for her at this moment. She'd done it while in captivity and during her panic attacks, curling up to protect herself and the life inside of her. It was the physical manifestation of those walls that she built, meant to shield her from pain and suffering. However, it seemed that those walls had crumbled completely now that her son no longer wanted to be in her life or his baby sister's life. She could understand that this was hard for him, he always hated change but shouting that he wanted to live with his father, who had left the two of them for three years and had only recently resurfaced, made her wish that she was dead.

It felt like he didn't love her any longer. If Henry didn't love her, what was the point of living?

Emma cries and cries until she's at the risk of being dehydrated. She listens for any sounds from her son's room, but all she hears is silence. She takes the cups of hot chocolate, which were meant as a method of comfort and dumps them down the sink. She leans on the counter and just stares downwards as if the answer to her dilemma will suddenly materialize in the sink.

…

Henry lays on his bed, curled up into a ball as well. He too has been crying, but he's also angry. His mom drops this bomb on him, after all that had happened to them, she wants to leave? He just wanted everything to be back to normal, with no boyfriend, no abduction, no search, no baby, no therapy and no moving. He hadn't felt this awful since the night his dad left town. He felt abandoned then and felt abandoned now. No one seemed to understand what he was feeling and if he is honest with himself, neither does he… His body is a hurricane of emotions and there seems to be no eye of calm in sight.

He buries his face in the pillow. His mind fills with the happy memories that had taken place in this home. He remembers spending hours in the living room making pillow forts with his dad or playing with his toys on the bedroom floor. He remembers when he used to jump into his parent's bed in the mornings to wake them up so they could watch cartoons together and snuggle up with them at night to read his favourite stories. He remembers his mother drawing bubble baths for him, putting the suds on his head and making different styles with his wet hair to make him laugh. All his birthdays had been celebrated here, all the Christmases, Easters, Fourth of Julys and so on. There were too many memories here to just leave them all behind. Most were very happy and meant the world to him.

Then he thinks about the bad ones, most of them were recent. The times when he was afraid of the dark as a child, the time he broke his arm while jumping on the bed, the many nights spent tossing and turning, thinking about, and praying that his dad would come home. The last four months, he can barely recall sleeping at all from all the activity going on around him. The phone call that was his mother's plea for help and the few times when he was alone in a big empty apartment. He felt like he was in the belly of some hollow beast that had taken his mother from him. And for the past few weeks, waking up in the night from his mother's tortured screams, sounding like she was in pain. He always pretended to be asleep when she came to check on him, but his stomach twisted, wondering what horrors she must be reliving.

While the happy far outweighed the bad, he still couldn't understand why she wanted to move. Why couldn't the baby sleep in his Mom's room? It wasn't that big. Killian was already living here, which wasn't much to his liking either, but at least the docks man tried to be friends with him and did not try to replace his father.

It was still too much for him to cope. He was just expected to be okay with moving, which he wasn't.

He rolls over and picks up his phone from his nightstand. He scrolls to his dad's number and opens a text.

…

Killian comes home after a few hours to see Emma laying on the couch. He can still see the stains of tears on her face. Immediately, he drops every and rushes to her side.

"What's wrong, Love?" he asks, kneeling down in front of her.

"I talked to Henry about moving."

"And he hated it?"

"How could you guess?" she mutters sarcastically.

"What did the Lad say?"

"That he wanted to go live with his father."

Killian offers his arms to Emma, but she doesn't move from her position. Not sure if this was because of her emotional state of the trauma, he gently cups his hand on the side of her face. She seems to wince and leans into it, wanting the comfort. He watches as fresh tears forming in her eyes.

"He doesn't mean it, Love,"

"He sounded pretty sincere to me,"

"When people fight, things are said that are later regretted. I can't tell you how many times I told Liam I wanted to run away or that I hated him. It was in the heat of the moment and I never meant any of it."

"It's just so hard when you hear your son say he doesn't want to live with you anymore."

"I can't imagine how it feels."

"I just wish there was a way to fix it," she mutters, rolling onto her side to gaze into her boyfriend's eyes.

"Perhaps time is what he needs… to process everything."

Emma swallows a large lump in her throat. "Either that or make it worse."

…

Henry: Hey Dad

It's a few minutes before there is a reply. His phone vibrates with a text.

Neal: Hey buddy. What's up?

Henry: Mom wants to move.

Again, there is a pause.

Neal: Where?

Henry: Don't know and don't really care.

Neal: Why?

Henry: Because it's stupid.

Neal: Not really, it makes sense with a new baby on the way.

Henry: I still hate it. I can't take it anymore. I want to come live with you.

This time there is a really long gap of time. Henry's thumb taps impatiently, waiting for a response.

Eventually, the three dots appear on the corner of the screen, indicating he's typing.

Neal: Why do you want to do that?

Henry: Because I don't want to move anywhere.

Neal: You realize that I can't afford to keep the apartment, right?

The teen's heart sinks at this response.

Henry: Why not?

Neal: Not enough money. What's wrong with living with Emma? What has she done that has hurt you?

It's Henry's turn to pause and think about it. She sprung this move thing out of nowhere and just after everything was getting back to normal, plus her boyfriend had moved in without real explanation.

Henry: She just put this on me out of the blue and she wants Killian to come live with us too.

Neal: That makes sense, he is the father after all.

Henry: But not mine

Neal: It pains me to admit, but I think Killian will be a better father than I was.

This message shocks Henry. He father is saying that he was a bad parent and the dark-haired stranger living in this apartment now is better at it than he was.

Henry: No, he isn't!

Neal: Yes, he is.

Henry: HOW?!

Neal: Has he ever hurt you in any way?

Henry: No

Neal: Has he ever tried to control you and your life?

Henry: No

Neal: Has he ever come home drunk and fought with your mom?

Henry: He has become drunk before.

Neal: But in front of you?

Henry: No

Neal: Did he ever leave you when you needed him most?

Henry: No

Neal: Did he ever cheat on Emma?

Henry swallows heavily. He had suspected in the months before his dad took off that something wasn't right. The late nights out were becoming suspicious and even though he was too young to understand it, he'd seen his father wipe off lipstick from his face multiple times and seen him come home in the morning while the kid was up watching cartoons. His eyes fill with tears and he squeezes his phone tightly. Neal was basically confronting the teenager with the notion that his father was not perfect and had various flaws.

Henry: No.

Neal: Did he ever give up on either of you?

Henry: No

Neal: Then he's better than me in pretty much every. He loves your mom with his heart and soul. He'd remain loyal and fight to his very last breath for her. I let her slip through my fingers, thinking of myself and not you two. He'd never do that.

Henry: He almost killed himself by drinking and driving.

Neal: Nobody is perfect, I especially, but no matter what I do to try and fix things, I still left you two, gave up and ran away.

Henry: Why are you telling me this?

Neal: Because I don't want you to throw away what you have. I threw most of my life away because everything was too hard and out of my control. I didn't stay to handle it or make a change. I made a choice to run. Sometimes it paid off, I met your mom that way, but most of the time it left me lonely and without love. You'll also spend the rest of your life wondering what might've been and live with the pain that you abandoned those who loved you. I don't want you to live with that pain, especially at only fifteen. You have your whole life ahead of you, filled with promise. I don't have any of that anymore. Didn't then and not now. I don't want you to regret your decisions.

Henry: I won't. I'd rather live with you…

Neal: In a cramped apartment, not having your own room, living by yourself because your father works late hours, having to buy, and cook for yourself, and get a job to pay rent. Be away from your friends, having to start all over, be away from Violet. Not likely having the chance to go to college, being stuck in a dead-end job… Never getting to see your mother, watching your new sibling grow up and teaching them everything… Sound like fun?

Henry: That's not true.

Neal: I'm sorry buddy but it is. My life is far from perfect, in fact, it's worse compared to what you have.

There's a pause in messages, both Cassidy men at a loss for words.

Neal: I'm sorry that I have to do this buddy, but your mother and I agreed that the day you were born that we would do our best to give you your best chance. And sometimes having to do this means doing something hard. I won't let you live with me. Even if you try to run to my place, I'll just send you back. Your best chance is with the family you have, not with the family you lost.

Henry lets his phone drops from his hand and onto a pile of clothes. Tears form in his eyes again and his body shakes with anger, but mostly sadness. His own father won't take him in, give him the life he wants (or at least thinks he wants). He squeezes his pillow so tightly, it looks like it might be popped in half. He then hurtles it across the room and sulks some more. His head is spinning and he has no idea what to do. He can't live here and his father won't take him in.

He looks over to where his pillow has landed, next to his open closet. He stops for a moment and looks at the dark green duffle bag laying on the floor of his closet.

A thought crosses his mind.

What do you think that might be?