The Girl With the Half Beating Heart

“‘I love you, you mean everything to me, I’ll never leave you.’ BULL FUCKING SHIT!” A voice screams, followed by a huge crash. ‘Great, she’s throwing things now.’ Alex thinks to himself, rolling his eyes. Its Christmas Day, and his mother is going crazy. He spent Christmas Eve locked in his room, praying that she wouldn’t blow off. And she didn’t. But today, today was something else. Ever since noon, she’s been drinking, crying, and screaming at the top of her lungs to herself. And now, throwing things. He grabs a pen and one of his journals, and starts to doodle. He’s been drawing blanks all day as far as actual writing goes, so he figured he could doodle some useless things until something came to mind. While drawing a picture of a stick figure with its head stuck in the clouds, his phone rings. He smiles to himself, thinking its Acacia. Her family must be really annoying if she’s calling him on Christmas Day, the first Christmas she’s been home since she was 12. But its not. Its a number he doesn’t recognize. He hesitates, but eventually picks it up.
“Hello…?” He mumbles, wondering who’s on the other line.
“Hi, Alex.” A voice replies cheerfully, a voice he knows all too well. Its his father.
“No. No, no, no. Bye.” He says firmly with a laugh, about to hang up. He hasn’t spoken to him in four years. How did he even get his number?
“Alex wait, please hear me out.” He begs. Alex scoffs.
“Hear you out? When I haven’t heard from you in four years? Four fucking years?! I had to hear about your new fucking family from someone else! You didn’t even have the balls to tell us your fucking self!” He yells. His jaw is clenched, and his veins are about to pop. He’s furious. “No. Fuck you.” He whispers, a tear sliding down his face.
“Alex please!” His father pleads. “If you hang up, I’m going to keep calling until you talk to me.”
“I’ll get a new number.”
“And I’ll find it the same way I found this one.”
Alex groans, leaning back onto his bed.
“You literally have four minutes. I’m not kidding. I’m hanging up this fucking phone in four minutes.”
Alex’s father sighs. “Alex, you have to know that none of this was your fault. Okay? None of it. It was all between your mother and I. I tried to talk to you for years, but your mother wouldn't let me. And I still love you. With all my heart.” He whispers, and Alex scoffs, again.
“Sure you did. Get to the point.” He grumbles, his breathing still heavy.
“I don’t know if you knew this, but I moved to upstate New York.” He says.
“I do. I heard.”
“Okay, well, I’m, I’m in town. I wanted to visit some old friends this Christmas.” He explains, and Alex laughs.
“Don’t tell me you wanna come see us.” He says firmly.
“I’d enjoy that, actually. But I wanted to call first, to make sure its okay.” He replies weakly, with a cough.
“You’re kidding, right?” Alex says with a laugh, getting off his bed. “You’ve gotta be fucking joking. This is all one big joke, and you’re just fucking with me.”
“I’m, I’m serious, Alex.” Alex breathes out sharply, as his father awaits his response.
“So, you think you can just leave, just leave and make a new family. Leave, and leave us in the fucking dark for four fucking years, then just call four Christmases later, and say ‘Hey! I’d love you to come see you guys!’? No, you can’t. You know what your leaving did to mom?" He gulps. You know what your leaving did tome?” He growls out, gritting his teeth together. “You want proof? You wanna see what you did to her, you selfish fuck? Hold on.” He says softly. He opens his room door, and looks to make sure his mom is downstairs. When he realizes that she is, he steps out of his room. He sticks his phone over the banister of the stairs.
“Fuck you! Because of you, this Holiday will never be the fucking same, you inconsiderate prick!” His mother screams, followed by another crash. ‘What fuck is she throwing?’ Alex thinks to himself, before putting the phone back to his ear, and walking into his room.
“You see? You see what you fucking did?” He hisses.
“Alex, I,” His father began, only to be cut off of by him.
“No, I don’t wanna hear it. Save the bullshit, dad. The day you see me again, will be the day I’m in a fucking casket. You’ll see them lower me six feet into the fucking ground. That’ll be the day I’ll finally get away from all the mess you fucking made.” He spits, seething with anger. “Actually, no. Scratch that. You won’t be invited to my funeral.” He adds. He takes the phone from his ear, looks at it, and places it back. “Its been six minutes, get the fuck off my phone.” He snarls, but his dad speaks up.
“Alex?”
“What.”
“Uh, Merry Christmas. And happy belated birthday.” He mumbles.
“Yeah, thanks. Merry Christmas bitch, kiss my ass.” He hangs up the phone, and sits on the bed with a sigh. How dare he? He throws his phone across the room, and lays on his bed. Even though that was the last person he wanted to talk to, he’s really glad that his father called him instead of his mom. That, that would’ve been a royal catastrophe.
He resumes his useless doodles, while listening to his mom lose her mind. He gets his headphones, and plugs them into his iPod. He presses shuffle, and the most ironic song starts to play Yule Shoot Your Eye Out by Fall Out Boy. He sings along as he draws.
"And all I want this year, is for you to dedicate your last breath to me, before you bury yourself alive." He begins quietly, a small smile starting to appear on his face as he draws. "Don't come home for Christmas, you're the last thing I wanna see, underneath the tree." He sings out, his voice ringing in the room as he hits the note on 'tree'. "Merry Christmas, I could care less."
He hums the rest of the song to himself, now doodling a planet surrounded by stars. In the middle of his peaceful humming and doodling session, he's interrupted by the one and only, his mother.
"Alex!" She screams, throwing his room door open. He jumps up, startled, and rips his headphones out of his ears.
"Yes?" He replies, annoyed. He should be terrified. She's going to have a lot to say, due to the fact that she never confronted him about their fight, and it's, well it's Christmas. But he's not. After that conversation he had that conversation
"Did you not hear me calling your name? I was screaming for you forever!" She yells, and Alex drops his pen and journal in irritation.
"Sorry, I had my headphones in." He mumbles, leaning back onto the headboard of his bed.
"You always have those goddamn headphones in. I swear, its like you're trying to transport yourself into some makeshift universe or something." She mutters. 'I am, actually.' He thinks to himself, but he doesn't say a word. "We have to talk." She slurs, walking closer to his bed. He sighs.
"Is this about what happened at the hospital? Because," He begins, but she cuts him off.
"I don't want to hear your half ass apology, Alex. Just listen." She states, shutting her eyes.
"I'm not going to apologize. I don't feel the need to." He replies blankly, and she looks up at him, her face twisted in shock.
"What?" She hisses, narrowing her eyes at Alex.
"I said I don't feel the need to. I'm not apologizing for anything." He says, staring dead at her.
"Are you serious right now?" She says firmly, walking even closer to his bed. Even though Alex should be covering in fear right now, he's not. He's just staring at her, his blank face practically screaming 'I'm annoyed, please go away.' "You've gotta be fucking kidding me right now." She laughs, and Alex shakes his head.
"I'm not kidding, mom. I'm not going to give you an apology that I feel isn't sincere. That's not fair to either of us." He replies with a shrug. His mother exhales deeply.
"Alexander Gaskarth, first off, how dare you?" She asks, looking up at him. He does nothing. "You're getting really fucking bold, kid."
"Sure, maybe I am. But all I did was tell you the truth. Isn't that how you raised me? To tell you the truth?" He asks sarcastically, making his mom scoff.
"One, you disrespected me. And we both know I don't tolerate that." She begins. "Also, that's not the truth, and you know it."
"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry mom, I shouldn't have disrespected you like that. I truly mean that." He responds calmly. "But, that was the truth. To me anyway. How do you expect me to believe anything different when you act like you do?" He questions, resting his hands in his lap. Even though it might seem like it, he's not trying to pick a fight. He's just trying to tell her how he feels. But it'll probably end in a fight anyway.
"Alex, you need to stop right now before you get into some deep shit." She says quietly, shutting her eyes again. Finally up to the brim with annoyance, he stands up. He's had enough of his parents today.
"Mom, I'm not going to 'stop.' I've spent way too many years cowering in fear from speaking my mind. Way too many years dealing with your abuse. No more." He whispers, feeling his eyes get watery. He blinks away his tears. Now is not the time.
"Abuse? Really Alex?" She laughs out. "I have done the best I can to-" She starts, but Alex cuts her off.
"Mom give it a rest! Yes, I said abuse. Because that's what you do. You may not hit me so much, but emotional abuse is still abuse. And it hurts twice as much than a slap to the face." He whispers. "Because eventually, the sting of a slap will fade. My face will no longer be red. Scars fade away over time, mom. But words? Words always fucking stay with you. No matter what."
She stands before him, dumbfounded. He pushes past her, grabs his phone, and rushes down the stairs, tears flooding his vision.
"Where do you think you're going?" She bellows from atop the staircase. He looks up at her, tears streaming down his face.
"Out." He replies, strutting to the door.
"Alexander!" She calls, and he turns around. Before she can say anything, he cuts her off.
"You know, dad called me today." He says, looking up at her.
"He, he what? What did he say? How the fuck did he even get your number?" She questions, beyond confused.
"That's beside the point." He replies. There's one thing he has to ask, one thing that's been burning inside of him since he got off the phone. "You know whats funny?" He says, shaking his head down to the floor. "He said that he tried to call me. For years. But you wouldn't let him." He laughs pathetically, and looks back up to his mother at the top of the stairs. "Is that true, mom?" He nearly whispers, his eyes burning with tears. She doesn't answer. "Is it?!" He yells, feeling himself choke on the lump in his throat. Another tear escapes him.
"Y-yes." She says weakly, and Alex scoffs with a laugh. "But it was only in my best interest! I was trying to protect you!" She yells pleadingly.
"No, don't pull that card." He replies quietly, but loud enough for her to hear. "You weren't trying to protect me, you were trying to protect yourself." He spits out. "You made me think he didn't fucking care, when we both know he did. Maybe he didn't care about you, but he cared about me. He never stopped, did he?" He questions, sniffling. His mother doesn't reply. He laughs again. "You're sick. You weren't trying to protect me. You were protecting yourself, because you thought that I'd end up liking him more than you. You didn't want me to leave you." He looks to the floor. More tears are spilling out of his eyes.
"What was I supposed to do, Alex?! My son died, my husband left me, you were the only thing I had left! I needed you! I still need you!" She screams.
"You sure treat me well for someone you need." He says sharply.
"Alex please." She whimpers.
"No. I'm leaving you, just like everyone else left you. And you know what's funny?" He asks, giving her a fake smile. "The thing you feared more than me leaving you, was me liking him more than I like you. And I think I do."
And with that, he's out the door.