Threat

“What do you mean ‘you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving’?”

My heart sank from the familiar voice coming through Tyler’s phone – his mother.

“I-I’m sorry, Mom…Marcia doesn’t have enough time off work to travel to Georgia. Plus, she wanted to spend this one just with me …”

Why am I not fucking surprised?

However, I could only feel guilty at the moment, since I was packing up to go down there myself and spend Thanksgiving with my own mom.

“Alright, love you too. Bye.”

He hung up before putting the phone in his pocket.

“You know you should visit her, Tyler.”
“I know, Micah…but—”

“‘You can’t leave Marcia to be by herself for too long’. I know the drill.”
I shut the suitcase before taking it off the bed.

“It’s not that…it’s just…”
He sat down on the bed, running his hand through his hair.

I sat down next to him, placing a hand onto his shoulder.

“For some reason, she’s afraid of my mom. You know my mom is a sweetheart. I can’t imagine her doing anything to harm Marcia. So why?”

Because Marcia is afraid that your mother will quickly notice what a bat-shit crazy, abusive bitch she is.

Because she’s hiding you from your family and friends and keeping you chained down so it will be harder for you to leave!

Why can’t you fucking understand that?!

Of course I didn’t say that out loud – I can tell that Tyler already feels horrible for rejecting his mom.
I don’t need to make him feel worse this time.

Instead, I pulled him into a hug and lied.

“Marcia will come to like her, Tyler. You just have to get them together.”
“I know…”

He started tugging and playing with the end of my shirt.
I smiled slightly at the gesture.

Somehow, he’s still the same, shy, goofy, adorable fucktard from middle school.

He glanced at the clock and quickly pulled away from me.

“I-I have to go. I’ll see you when you come back? Oh, and tell your mom that I said ‘Hi’?”
“Yeah…”

A kiss on the cheek before he dashed towards the door.

“Tyler, wait!”
He stopped and turned to look at me.

“Be careful, okay? I really worry about you sometimes.”

No, I worry about him all the fucking time.

“I know…”

He flashed a smile – a fake one – before walking out.

I sighed before leaving my room, checking to see if I had everything packed up.
I walked into the bathroom and turned the light on.

Deodorant. Toothbrush and toothpaste. Shampoo.
Everything is packed up.

“…What the fuck…?”
I glanced in the mirror, quickly noticing a light brown smudge on my black shirt.

Didn’t eat with the shirt on.
Didn’t clean the house in this.

I scratched at it with my finger.

Powder.

…

Complexion powder.

…

Tyler.

…

He was hiding his fucking injuries again!

But it was too late to confront him.
He was gone. And I have a plane to catch.

“Fuck.”

| x | x | x |

Tired.
Too many thoughts in my head.

I want to be home already. Asleep in my old bed.

I hope Ms. Carter isn’t going to be alone on Thanksgiving.

Marcia is becoming more abusive and manipulative.

Just a few more blocks.

Tyler is an idiot.

Gullible Fucktard.
Helpless Motherfucker.

Please let him be okay. At least until I’m close enough to be there for him.

I’ve already lost him to Marcia.
I refuse to lose him completely.

Because I—

“Michael!”

A pair of arms pulling me into an embrace; I hugged back instantly, knowing who it was.

“Hi, Mom.”
“It’s good to see you, sweetie. Now come inside. It’s chilly out here!”

I nodded in agreement and followed her inside.

“Hey, Michael. It’s been a while.”
I quickly looked towards the source of the familiar voice, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Ms. Carter…?”

She walked over and pulled me into a hug before moving away and ruffling my hair afterwards.

“Oh, I invited Sharon to spend Thanksgiving with us, if you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all.”

Hell, anything is better than her being alone.

“Well, I’m sure you had a long day and want to go to bed.”
“I mean…I would love to stay up and chat, but—”

Mom smacked my stomach and playfully glared at me before I could finish sarcastic response.

“Okay, okay! I’m going! Night!”

“Night.”
“Night, sweetie.”

I still had a little bit of effort left to take off my pants, but I plopped onto the bed and I knew I wasn’t getting up until the morning.

But of-fucking-course, my phone had to vibrate on the nightstand.
Three attempts until I finally got a hold of it.

A message.

Fucktard <3: “Hey. Hope you made it home safe. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Micah. <3”

I let out a small laugh and typed on the keyboard before placing my phone back to its original place and pulled the covers over my head.

Me: “Night, Fucktard. <3”