Cracks

Just for a minute- Dylan's POV

Dylan's POV-

The scene before me was too picturesque. My brother was happily smiling while sitting in between my mother and father on the couch. They were watching It's A Wonderful Life and pretending that we had a wonderful life.

I know that was what I had wanted. It's basically what I had told my father that he needed to come and do. Still, it didn't mean that I had to like it. I was happy that Scotty was happy, but I was so pissed at both of my parents.

I couldn't believe that my father had just waltzed into our house, and my mother just let him. They both were just pretending that everything was completely fine. It was total bullshit!

"I'm going to bed," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"It's barely eight," my father said, sounding bitter and annoyed.

"Well, Scotty will be up early to open gifts," I replied with a glare. Presents that Presley and I picked out and wrapped then gave the credit to them for Scotty's sake.

"Come on, honey, we're spending quality time as a family," my mom almost whined.

"Mother..." I said in a hard voice. "We're not going to get into this tonight on Christmas eve," I told her harshly. "Good night, Scotty," I said in a soft voice.

"Night Dilly," Scotty said with a grin and I stalked off to my room.

I was happy that he was happy. I was glad that my parents were finally acting like parents. However, that didn't stop the bitter taste that was left in my mouth from their previous actions. It didn't stop the anger that I felt for them both practically abandoning us.

"Hey Dyl," her voice said through the phone, sounding tired and strained.

"Pres," I breathed. I hadn't even realized I called her until I heard her voice. "What's wrong?"

She sighed. She had been off and preoccupied ever since we left her dad's house earlier that week. I hadn't really even seen much of her over the few days that had went by since that day. I certainly didn't blame her; it was a lot to take in. Plus, she had been busy getting everything back in order after the whole Brad ordeal. She had been busy.

"Presley, what's up?" I questioned after she stayed quiet for too long.

"My mom..." she sighed again.

"What happened?" I asked, feeling panic rise in my chest. Her mother was a whole different subject all together. How Presley had been coping by herself all of her life was beyond me. She was absolutely the strongest person that I knew for being able to take care of her mom like she did.

"Nothing," Presley breathed out.

"Don't lie to me, Pres. What's going on?"

"She's gone," Presley finally relented with a gasp. "She just fucking left me on Christmas eve."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "What do you mean gone?"

"It's what she does," Presley answered easily. "She goes out to get over her depression. She has to find something or someone to bring her happiness, even if it's temporary."

"B-but it's Christmas eve," I stuttered.

"It's part of why she left. Christmas always goes one of two ways here... When she is up and in a good place, we spend the holiday with each other while eating and opening presents like a real family does. Or, when she is depressed and in a screwed up state of mind, she goes out drinking until almost New Years," Presley explained with little emotion lacing her voice.