Learning to Cope

Ch2 Page 13

TW: Mentions of Self-harm and Assault

August:

That rancid bitch. She'd rather pretend I'm dead than admit that she kicked me out because my panic attacks were too much for her to handle. Like she had to deal with them anyway.

I walk down the shoveled path and down to the driveway. I don't want to be near them. They kicked me out and forced me to live the way I do. The only reason I have any money at all is because I get monthly hush money from the government so I don't report what he did to me to the press.

I was too harsh with Andrew, I didn't mean to be so cold. If I had expressed any emotion there, it would have been rage. Angry is not a good look for me.

This is the worst Christmas ever, it's worse than the ones I spent by myself. My hands are cold, I've been out here for 15 minutes I think.

"Henry." Bitch. What does she want? "I'm sorry? I thought he died?" I say sarcastically, I won't turn around, she doesn't deserve the respect of eye contact. "Pull yourself together, this is pathetic. You're ruining Christmas for everyone." She scoffs. "Because you're making it any better?" If I was a lesser man I'd hit her. She doesn't deserve the energy.

"Everyone is waiting on you and Patricia is pacing the dining room." S-she's worried about me? Patricia isn't even my mom, why is she worried? "Why are you out here? Are you here to give me the comfort I've been begging for my whole life?" I put on an exaggerated voice. "I needed to get something from the car and I saw you throwing a tantrum like a small child." She sighs and walks past me to the fancy blue car in front of me. She opens the door and grabs her purse from the door pocket. "I hope you're happy. You ruined Christmas for your little boy toy." she whispers as she walks away

"Excuse me?" I turn and face her. My blood is boiling. "Don't talk about him that way, you don't even know him." I'm trying not to shout, I don't want anyone coming outside right now. "I need to get back inside." She turns away from me again. "So you can pretend I'm dead? Does that get you some sort of sick pity? Does it look good for you to have two dead kids?!" She snaps her head to look at me, finally, she's angry.

"How dare you! You've always been a spoiled brat! Is this a way for you to get what you want? Are you throwing a tantrum?!" she yells. "I AM YOUR SON! All I have ever asked for is any kind of compassion from you! Once James died you acted like I didn't even exist! Now you run around telling everyone I'm dead instead of admitting that you KICKED ME OUT!" I yell

"I lost my youngest son, I was GRIEVING!"

"I LOST MY BROTHER! You had a responsibility to help me process the new emotions I was feeling. YOU left me alone, YOU locked me in my room to keep my from crying, YOU called me a liar and a faker when I tried to kill myself! YOU DON'T GET TO PLAY THE VICTIM!" My hands are shaking and I'm seconds from crying. I look past my mother, Everyone is on the porch, watching us. Shit.

"You've ALWAYS been a liar! Pretending to have panic attacks to get out of events, Acting like you had PTSD when you had only been deployed for two weeks, Treating your only family like we're monsters! You've always been a worthless child. I wish it was YOU instead of James!"

...That hurt. I knew it was the truth but she'd never said it before. I'm crying at this point. "You're a fucking monster" I whisper.