You're Safe from the Weight of the World

Alex POV:

I walked with my father to his car, awkwardness trailing us. I wanted us to have flowing conversations, for us to talk for hours and hours without avail. Instead we couldn't keep up a 10 minute conversation without the horrible silences. I hated it. I kept trying to make conversation, asking him about his life, doing everything to fight the quiet that seemed to yell at me that I can't talk to my father, that nothing but blood connects us.

Eventually after the 4th failed attempt, he gave me a look, his eyes reflecting anger. "Do you mind being quiet for three goddamn seconds?" He said in a commanding precise voice, so much like the voice I'd grown to fear.

I nodded quickly, quietly shrinking. The fact that he could be that person again, my worst nightmare terrified me more than words could say.

The silence was awful. It was so drawn out and empty. It seemed to scream "He doesn't want to talk to you. Shut up. He hates you. Why else would be hurt you? No wonder he hated you. You're an awful person."

I stared out of the window, trying to ignore it. We would be ok. The awkwardness would pass. I was sure of it. Finally we reached home. I felt like I was with a stranger and I hated that I felt like that.

I walked into the house, looking around. Nothing had changed since leaving for tour. The couches were positioned the same way. As always there were three. One for my dad, one for my mom and one empty one for Tom.

From old habits, I started walking down to the basement where my room is. My dad suddenly grabbed my shoulders. His touch was firm and strong. It terrified me. What was he doing?

I whirled around, pushing his hand off, and immediately taking a few steps back, leaning against the basement door, readying myself just in case. What would he do?

I looked up and tried to read his expression. He understood what I thought he was going to do, that his touch reminded me things that were better forgotten, years of his touch being my greatest fear. He looked hurt, looking down for a second, frowning. He immediately took his hand back. There was a glint of anger in his eyes, as if he wanted to start screaming at me or run away.

"I-" I started, not knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry." I finally said, deciding he couldn't possibly get angry at that.

He looked surprised at my apology before saying "No I'm sorry."

I let those words cover me, let myself soak into them. The silences didn't matter. He was trying, trying just as hard as I was. How could I get angry at that?

"I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to have an early dinner with us. We're eating soon." He asked, a hopeful look taking place on his face.

I smiled widely, feeling so happy. I was right. He was trying. Everything would be ok. "I'd love that!" He smiled back at me, everything forgotten.

I walked over to the dinner table feeling tense. My mom was there. I didn't even know she was home and I guess she didn't care that I was home. She looked at me and gave me a nod, just acknowledging my existence, no more no less. I gave her a small smile in return, trying to make things better.

In reality we both knew what was going on. I could never forgive her for ignoring everything that happened. She never tried to stop my father, never stood up for me. I wanted for everything between us to be ok but I could only hope.

My mom set the table quickly. She took a seat as did my father. I still stood trying to figure out where I was supposed to sit. There were three chairs but I knew well enough never ever to touch the third chair. I just stood there awkwardly trying to figure out what to do.

"Just take a chair from the storage, Alexander." My mom said slowly and precisely.

"It's Alex not Alexander." I said as I walked over to the back of the kitchen, where among all sorts of odds and ends, was another chair.

"I named you, I can call you whatever I want." My mother said.

I wanted to argue against that horrid claim. How dare she even try to think she has a right on my life? So many years of her ignoring me and suddenly she gets the right to name me, or decide about my life.

I tried to hold my temper. Fighting would do no good. I didn't move here to argue. I held my tongue as I sat down.

Silence soon appeared. As we sat there, me feeling way too anxious to eat, I realized this was the first family meal I've been part of for at least a few years. Even when I moved here last year, somehow with band practices, being with Jack and my mom's work schedule, we never had the chance to eat together. Before my moving with Jack, of course I wasn't allowed to eat with my parents.

It hit me that this was the first meal with my parents since Tom's death. This is what we were doing. Eating together in silence, a few strangers with nothing but blood that connected them.

I tried to remember meals with my family, before it all started. I remembered how much we laughed and talked. I couldn't remember any silences. Tom always used to start the conversation.

I looked at the empty chair, the one my family saved for him, refusing to use or remove. I imagined how he'd be if he was here, what he'd say. I could almost picture him, the way he looked when he laughed.

But he wasn't here.

He never will be. He left us.

I suddenly felt so angry, so furious. I looked around, seeing a broken family. I felt so angry. I didn't even know why. Or I did but I didn't want to admit it, not to myself or anyone else.

I was furious at Tom. He's gone forever, leaving all of us here to pick up the pieces. I couldn't stay there. I couldn't look at my family, at that empty seat.

I stood up and started to run. I pushed open the front door and continued running. I didn't want to stop, didn't want to think. I didn't want to remember Tom, to remember memories. He left us. I never got a goodbye.

How could that be right? How could any of this be right? Didn't he think about what he was doing? Did he realize what his actions caused? Was he aware of it? Did he still kill himself despite it?

I wanted to talk to him, to yell some sense into him. For the millionth time I wished I had tried to stop him when I found him cutting. Maybe if I had, he'd still be alive.

I left it all behind, pushing myself. I couldn't stop running, wouldn't stop running. My lungs burned but I wouldn't stop. I couldn't. Stopping would mean accepting. I didn't want to think, to run through everything that happened now and in the last 5 years. Running away was better.

I suddenly noticed everything in a way I never had. The city at night was so foggy. It felt empty, like I was the only one there. I felt like I could do anything I wanted and nothing would happen. Nothing felt real.

And yet I didn't stop running. I kept changing directions, turning and crossing streets without being aware. Nothing existed. I didn't want to exist either. My feet started to give away. I stopped.

The world seemed to freeze.

I sat down; ignoring the fact it was by the side of some building on the floor. I didn't notice or care. I felt so alone, so empty and cold.

I checked my pockets and found I had my phone there. Not knowing what to do and feeling completely helpless, I decided to call Jack.

"Hey Lex! What's up?" His cheerful voice inquired.

I didn't know what to answer, how to answer. I tried to find the words to explain what was happening.

"Alex are you ok? Alex?" He asked, sounding a bit scared.

"I'm ok." I said. My voice sounded hoarse. In no way did I sound ok.

"Are you sure? You don't sound so good." Jack asked.

"I'm fine." I said. The lie was evident in my voice, clear to everyone, especially Jack who knew me for 3 years.

"Ok." He said simply. "I'm here for you if you want to talk or just I don't know, make out?" He said a smile in his voice. I tried laughing, but it was so pitiful I stopped.

"Can I come over?" I asked finally. I couldn't be alone anymore.

"Sure!" He said.

I closed the phone and stood up. Looking around, I realized I was pretty close to Jack's home, luckily. I started walking towards it, knowing it was 5 minutes away.

The second I didn't have Jack's voice in my head, my own thoughts started. So I left my family and now I'm going to Jacks. I felt even more horrible. Still, after all that, I was angry at Tom. And I hated myself for it.

What would it be like if he hadn't committed? Maybe we'd be having a family meal together, happy like everything used to be. Our family was so torn. It was more than just awkward silences. All because of Tom and I.

How could I try and blame anyone else? Why did he have to die? Why did he have to do it? All the anger came up again and I had the urge to start running again. I ignored it, noticing I reached Jacks house.

I knocked on the door reluctantly. He opened it with a wide smile that was replaced with a worried look. I tried smiling at him. I didn't want him to be worried.

"Alex what happened?" He asked immediately.

I tried to explain. How could I?

"I don't" I started to say, trying to word that I didn't know. I couldn't explain with a few words. I didn't want to think about everything, my running away, that awful dinner, Tom, nothing.

I started again, saying "I er- I just-" Jacks confused expression grew.

"He-" I said again, trying to explain about Tom, about the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts I was feeling.

Finally I gave up and said "never mind." I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to discuss it.

Jack raised his eyebrows, scrunching them together in a confused glance. "Did your father do something?" He asked, sounding panicked and a bit angry.

I immediately shook my head. My father didn't have anything to do with the mess of my life. It was all me this time.

"Come on, we need to get you some warm clothes." He said.

I looked down feeling confused. In my plight, I hadn't even noticed that it was raining. I suddenly felt so aware of the cold; it was a huge surprise from the numbness I felt earlier.

I walked next to Jack quietly, feeling empty sad and angry. My mind started to drift again, thinking about my father's actions. I kept returning to the same questions try to find answers with no avail.

How could a father hurt his own son? How could Tom kill himself? Didn't he realize what his actions caused? Did he care? I missed him so so much. It felt like a piece of me died that day with him.

Suddenly I felt an arm on my shoulders. I jumped, immediately thinking of earlier with my father.

Then I looked to see it was Jack. A hurt expression was on his face. Guilt covered me, giving me its evil smile again.

"I'm sorry!" I said immediately.

"It's okay, I understand." Jack answered, giving me a smile. He took off his arm, still looking hurt.

"Could you leave it there?" I asked quietly.

With a smile he nodded and continued hugging my shoulder. I leaned a bit on him, feeling how warm he was. He felt like no one else.

We reached his room. The sight of it made me smile. It reminded me of so many great memories. He gave me a t-shirt and sweat pants. I thanked him, still lost in my head.

I felt like my mind was constantly looping back to exactly what I didn't want to think about. I hated it. I didn't want to think about what my father would do when I came back. I didn't want to imagine about it, didn't want to picture millions and millions of scenarios.

Jack started to turn around. I felt scared, suddenly terrified at the thought of being alone. I couldn't stand imagining, thinking about it all.

"Don't go! Please!" I blurted out.

He nodded a silent agreement not to leave. It was enough for me.

We sat down on Jacks bed, cuddling together under his furry blanket. It felt nice, just the quiet with Jacks warm form next to me. Jack started tracing shapes on my thighs. I gave him a smile. I felt so lucky that he was my boyfriend and best friend, that we were this close, that I could trust him so much.

Then it hit me again. I can't stay with Jack forever. I'll have to go home sometime. Maybe not today but I won't leach of Jack's life. I'd have to go back to my life, to my parents' house with all the memories, with Tom's ghost everywhere.

The vision I had earlier, of my family if he hadn't done it mocked me again. We could have been so happy. This could have been our happy ending, my family's happiness. Instead we were broken, torn to pieces. I slowly drifted to sleep, still feeling so wrong.

I remember dreaming. Of that I'm positive. I saw Tom. That’s all I could remember.

And when I woke up with a jolt, I felt more unsettled than ever.