Untraceable

(Day 161: Saturday Evening)

"We got your grades," Ben hears his father say, and he freezes, faced to the fridge as he grips tightly onto the soda in his hands. "I told you this would happen." His voice is so angry. Does he look angry? Ben slowly turns around and lets out a relieved breath. There is no sign of illness in his expression or posture. His face looks quiet even, actually. Ben's frown deepens. Does that make this better or worse? "Minuses across the board," he fumes, before his eyebrows raise, "And a B in English?"

Ben stares blankly at him, "I did the best I could."

"Don't you dare blame this on your injury," his voice raises. "You can pull that crap with your mother, but you will not get this past me."

He's quiet for a moment, "I know."

"So," his father emphasizes. "How could you allow this?"

"I tried," Ben cracks a smile.

"Clearly not enough," he says in a softer, almost disappointed voice.

"You're the reason my mind turned to shit," Ben's mouth gapes. "And now you have the nerve to tell me I didn't even try?"

"Because you didn't," he asserts. "I know you were accommodated. There's no reason why you shouldn't have done just as well as before."

Ben gulps, as he feels the tears intrude his eyes, "I already wasn't eating or sleeping. What else was I supposed to do?"

His father offers him the same expression he had had when he apologized for assuming he could handle being king, "That's why you didn't do as good. To do good work you need a life-work balance."

Ben narrows his eyes at him, "Fuck you." before he shakes his head and marches past him; however, then he feels his arm get grabbed.

He turns around and sees his father lean in, "If you think you're going to get away with that, you'd be mistaken."

Still no real anger in his features. Ben pulls his arm out of the grip, before he meets his father's piercing blue eyes, knowing he had willingly let him go, and turns around to walk back into the dining room.

Adam slowly walks behind him and watches Ben scurries over to the hallway, as Belle calls out, "Where are you going?"

When she gives Adam a look he quietly explains, "We just spoke about his grades. He didn't handle my input very well."

"Well, what did you say?" she inquires.

He slowly speaks, "Just that I felt he could have done better and that a better work-life balance could have helped with that." before he goes to sit down next to her.

"He does get rather obsessed with work," Belle worries, before she attempts a smile. "I will get him to do a puzzle later, so we can debate it calmly."

Adam merely nods, before Mal's eyes shift, "Maybe I should check on him."

"No," Belle slightly shakes her head. "He thinks too much. Right now, he just needs some time to settle down and sort things out."

"To not think," Evie understands.

Belle smiles more, "Exactly."

"Ben?" Belle knocks on the door. "Ben?" Her smile slips, before she opens the door and notices the empty room. She walks over to the bathroom but can't find him there either. She turns back to the door, glancing around the room, before she notices the cellphone on the bedside table set over his ID. She stares at it, before she recalls something from the previous year.

"I got us a security box at the bank," he had let her know.

"Why?" she'd questioned.

"You know how father can get when he isn't well," he seriously states. "We need to prepare in case—"

"He loves us."

Ben takes a moment, before he changes course, "If there's a fire all of our things would still be here, but if something does happen we're going to need clothes, money… a way to contact each other."

"You know I don't get a lot of money," she softly said.

"All I need you to do," Ben had widened his eyes, "is to get a small suitcase and put some clothes and necessities into it. I'll take care of the rest."

"Ben," she had placed a hand to her head.

"It's just a precaution."

It took a long minute for her to nod in thought, "Okay. I'll get some things together."

After the blond woman unlocks the metal storage Belle notices the black luggage is gone, before she takes the beige case out and sets in on the table, "Give me a minute. Please."

When she leaves Belle opens the case and sees the cellphone in the plastic pocket, before she pulls it out and holds it in her hands. It still needs to be set up. She sees the folded, white paper, taking it out to read and follow the directions.

Some time passes before she can make the call, and when she brings the phone to her ear there's no answer. There's a voicemail. He has it set up. "Ben," she urges. "It's your mother. Please, call me." She ends the call and sets the phone down, staring at it. It's untraceable. So is Ben's. She will have no way to find him.

Immediately, she picks up the phone again. She has to get ahold of him. She lets out a pain-stricken breath and her eyes water, as she reaches the voicemail again. "Ben." Her voice raises in pitch, "Whatever happened, you can tell me. Please. I want to talk to you."