Don't Hold Your Breath

I sat and watched helplessly as his bloody hands grabbed a hold of his hair, yanking him to the ground. He screamed in pain. That man, my father, pulled out a knife, as the boy I loved lay cowering beneath him. He brought the knife down, drawing a huge deep gash across his back and down his side. I ran as fast I could, but I couldn't reach him. I screamed his name, but he didn't hear me. I continued to scream his name as the knife was brought down to his throat. And with one quick motion, the knife was covered in fresh blood, and his heartbeat stopped......

I woke up gasping in a cold sweat. It took me a minute to gather my surroundings. I was curled up in the passenger seat of the van. It was dark outside, and we were somewhere near the desert. 

"Ryan? Ryan what's wrong?!" It was Brendon who spoke thankfully. His voice was what I needed to hear. I tried to speak, but I hadn't realized I was sobbing. I felt the van pull over and I heard Brendon jump out of the drivers seat and make his way over to the passenger side. When the door opened, he unbuckled my seat belt and pulled me into his arms.

"Ryan, it's okay. It was just a dream right?" luckily everyone was asleep so there was no other questioning. I didn't answer, I just wrapped my arms around his neck and tried to stop crying. "Come on." he pulled me out of the van, and at me down, on the ground the side of the van opposite the road. He sat next to me and pulled me onto his lap. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" I kind of wanted to, just to get it out of my system, but at the same time, I was afraid I might break down even harder if I did speak of it. 

"I- In my dream, you and my dad were fighting...... Then he pulled out a knife, then he...... And you..... There was blood everywhere...." I held back another sob. I just couldn't finish the sentence. I looked up at Brendon and he bit down on his bottom lip. I'm sure he didn't know what to think of the dream either. I don't think he's ever even met my father. "I shouldn't have told you. Now you're freaked out." I mumbled.

"No, it's okay. I'm glad you did." he mumbled halfheartedly. I didn't believe him. I knew he was freaked out. "Look, in a few months, we'll be out of high school and we'll be off to college. Then you won't have to worry about your father anymore." he tried to comfort me. 

"But what about summer? I don't turn eighteen until august. I can't move out before then, and besides......" I paused. I can't believe I'm about to say this. I'm not sure he'll believe it either. 

"Besides..... What?" he prompted. 

"even though he's an abusive alcoholic ass hole, he's still my father..... And as much as I hate him, I still kind of love him. There was a time when he was a nice, and caring. But then something happened. He just came home one night and started yelling at me. He told me my mom left, and was never coming back. Then he told me it was my fault. A poor defenseless 8 year old boy, who barely even understood what he meant by she "left". For all I knew, she could have 'left' to go to the store because I drake all the chocolate milk." I mumbled. There was a bit of a pause before he responded. He just rubbed my back up and down, resting his cheek on the top of my head. 

"I'm sorry." was all he said. He probably didn't know what to say. Which was okay. I didn't need him to say anything. I just needed him to listen. I kissed him on the cheek, then stood up slowly. He stood up with me. I wasn't crying anymore, but my cheeks were still stained with tears. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked once more. I nodded. Not tearing my eyes away from his. This boy, was the only one in the world to know every aspect about me.  He was the first and only to know about my abusive parent, the first to help me realize I was gay, and the first and only to know how I truly feel about my father. And he's still here. He still loves me the same. He still cares about me. Of course I'm okay. He gave me one more hug and peck on the lips before he climbed back into the drivers seat. I climbed back into the drivers seat, ignoring the gruesome feeling in the pit of my stomach, that had been there ever since our little encounter with Brendons father. 

~*~

"Shit.... What the...?" I hadn't been paying attention to our surroundings so I didn't notice that we were on our street. I looked up at Brendon who had a confused look of shock on his face. I followed his gaze to the several police cars surrounding my house. 

"Hey Brendon, why are we stopped in the middle of the-" She stopped when she saw what we saw. "Shit. Ryan, what's going on?" She asked me. Hell. Like I knew. I jumped out of the car and ran over to Mrs. Urie who was talking to a police officer. She saw me and sighed with relief. 

"Thank god you boys are home. W-Wheres Brendon?" She looked scared shitless. What the hell is going on? 

"He's parking the car. W-Whats going on?" We were soon joined by Brendon who hugged him mom, then wrapped his arms around me. 

"Mom..." He questioned when he didn't answer. 

"Excuse me, are you Ryan Ross?" A police officer approached me. 

"Y-Yes." I stuttered. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?" 

"Yes son, I'm going to need you to follow me." He motioned for me to follow. I turned to Brendon. 

"Ill, um, be over in a little bit once I find out what's happening." I whispered in his ear. He pulled away and looked me in the eyes, kissing me on the lips, before nodding and reluctantly walking away. 

I followed the police officer into my house. He walked over to a side table and picked up an old picture of my mother. 

"Son is this your mother?" the man asked. I nodded. "I see. Can you tell me where she is?" he questioned. 

"No. She left when I was little." I answered simply. Then something occurred to me. "Where's my dad?" I asked. The man sighed and put the picture down. 

"Why don't you have a seat. This is going to take some explaining." I did as instructed, my heart pounding in my chest. What could all this possibly have to do with my mother? I haven't seen her in nearly ten years. 

"Well in May of 1993, a missing persons report was sent out for a Miss Sarah Ross. We investigated this for years, but nothing came up. We even questioned your father, who said she just up and left one day. Leaving him with you. Just recently we received an anonymous report. This person talked about how your mother came to her one night needing help. She said that her husband, your father, had been abusing her, and she was thinking of leaving him and taking you, her son, to live elsewhere. This was the last that was heard from Ms. Ross before the missing persons report." I was stunned. She wanted me? She wanted to take me with her? Why didn't she! Why did she leave me with my god damn father!

There was a pause before he continued.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but we found her remains. Son, your
Mother is dead." I stopped breathing. My mother.... Was dead? And she really did love me. But she was fucking dead! How could this have happened? My mother....... Mom...... 

I held back tears. "How?". I asked emotionlessly. 

"Son, Ryan, we have evidence that your father was involved in her murder."

"Murder?" I asked in disbelief. So it wasn't some stupid car accident, or a robbery, or something cliche and possibly easier to deal with. It had to be my fucking father. Fucking drunk no doubt. Taking away the one family member who ever showed that they loved me.

"I'm sorry. But she's gone. And your father........."

"Where is he?" I interrupted. 

"Well he's in jail. And he will be for a while....." with this I exploded. 

"How do you know he did it huh?! Tell me exactly how it happened! There has to be more proof! He didn't do it!" I began sobbing. 

"I'm sorry son. But, I can't tell you. It's confidential." he said softly. "And there's one more thing." Great. More. Because that's what I needed. More bad news. What could possibly happen? Things couldn't get any worse. "As you know, you are under age. You can't stay here by yourself. You need to be in the care of a legal guardian. We spoke to your aunt in Alabama. Amy Ross? She agreed to take you in until your eighteenth birthday." I froze. Once again, not breathing. Shit. Mother fucking shit. Brendons face flashed through my mind. 

"No." I muttered. "No!" I exclaimed a little louder. "You can't! You can't take me away from here! Please....." I pleaded.

"I'm sorry, but it's already been decided." he paused and looked at me, breaking down. "Were not totally heartless you know." I didn't look at his face. I just looked at my hands. "Your aunt isn't expecting you until tomorrow. Your plane leaves tomorrow at noon. You can have tonight and tomorrow morning to say goodbye to loved ones. Do you have someone you can stay with....?"

"Yes." I cut him off abruptly.

Just then I felt my pocket vibrate. I pulled it out and read a number I didn't recognize. I reluctantly flipped in open and held it to my ear. 

"H-Hello?" I stuttered.

"Ryan." it was a familiar voice. One that sent me into a state of shock after the news I just received. I didn't know if I should feel scared, or angry. So I went with angry. 

"What do you want?" I asked bitterly. 

"I, um, assume you heard the news-" 

"How could you?" I cut him off. "She was my mother! How could you!" I screamed into the phone.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." he cried on the other line. Which surprised me. The father I knew never cried in public. And he especially wouldn't cry in front of a bunch of men in jail. "I didn't mean to...... I was drunk and-"

"Story of your life."

"She tried to leave. She tried to take you with her. But I just loved her so much. I had a gun. I didn't mean to shoot her, it just went off..... I didn't want her to leave. I loved you and her so much. "

I paused. He loved me? Then why were the last ten years of my life filled with bruises and blood?

"Then why did you....why, dad, why?" He knew what I was talking about. 

"I'm sorry George, I'm so sorry. I- I love you. I'm sorry." After all that I almost believed that he really did love me. I couldn't say anything. So I just hung up the phone. Speechless. I didn't know what to think. I couldn't. So I just pushed that to the back of my mind and focused on a different issue. 

Brendon

How could i tell him? How could I do it? I couldn't leave. I can't! I sped out of the room and across the street. Ignoring the protests of the people I ran into. I made my way to the Urie household and pounded on the door like my life depended on it.