The Void Between Stars: Book 4 Of The Orion Series

Crisis

Right before everything went to complete shit, I was starting to get used to their arguments. I was starting to become very jaded. My grades had improved, slightly, but they still weren't good enough. Nothing seemed good enough for my father.

I once was bold enough to ask my mother why she stayed with him. The only reason I even had worked up the balls to ask such a thing was because my dad was working late. He wasn't physically there, so there was no conceivable way for him to hear me. I had grown paranoid in my own house; anything I did or said somehow managed to make it back to him when he was around.

For a long time my mom didn't reply. She just sort of...Vanished, for awhile. Her tiny eyes got glassy, and even though she had been looking right at me, she wasn't looking at me at all. Finally she spoke, and when she did I jumped.

"I loved him," was the only soft reply I got.

When I realized that was the only answer I was going to get, I retreated to my sanctuary—my bedroom—silently cursing her and her stupid heart that had loved him.

"Orion!" my dad had screamed from downstairs shortly thereafter.

I sighed heavily, slipping a bookmark into the book I had been reading. Wishing I was a shadow, emulating them now by wearing black clothes, I quietly and swiftly made my way downstairs.

"Hi," I greeted him, forcing a chipper tone.

"Hi?" he growled at me.

I swallowed.

"How many times have I told you to not leave your fucking backpack on the floor?" he shouted. "I tripped on it and nearly killed myself!"

My eyes went wide. My backpack was, in fact, sprawled on the floor by the door. It was evident how it was laying that his foot had gotten caught up in the strap. Panicked, I darted forward.

"S-sorry."

"S-sorry?" he mocked, something I had grown used to. "What in the hell am I paying that damn tutor for? Your stupid stuttering hasn't gotten better!"

"It used to be worse," I replied without thinking, shouldering my backpack. "A lot worse."

He glared at me. Swallowing down another apology, I quickly turned around and rushed away back to my room. I had barely shut the door behind myself when I could hear him tearing into my mom now.

"Is it really so hard to have dinner heated for me when I get home after a long day?"

My mom replied something I didn't hear. However, I heard his response loud and clear.

"What the fuck do you even do all day, woman?"

I slipped in my earbuds, pulled out my phone, and turned on my music app. However, within minutes it was a proper row. As their voices escalated, so did my music. It was becoming legit painful with how loud the music blasted in my ears, so I did something else that had become a normal experience; I turned on my stereo. Turning the volume up until I could no longer hear them, I laid back down.

That, however, had been a grave mistake.

"ORION!"

"Oh for fucks sake!" I remember saying, which, at that point, was pretty unlike me.

I had it, though. For the first time I felt angry at my parents—really, really fucking angry. I bolted to my feet and angrily flipped off the stereo. Opening my door with a loud bang (to which my dad screamed "Hey!" at), I ran down the stairs, taking two at a time.

I had barely even made it into the living room before he laid into me.

"How many God damn times do I have to remind you to turn your music down?"

I balled my hands into fists. However, when I spoke it was with a calmness that surprised even myself. "Don't use the Lord's name in vain, father."

It was the first time I had spoken back. For a minute his red face looked stunned. Standing behind him, my meek mother was peeking out, gawking at me. The image of her diminutive body peering out from the looming man made something inside me snap.

"Isn't that why I go to Catholic school?" I screamed at him, another first for me. "Isn't that why you drag my ass out of bed every single Sunday?"

His mouth hung open, and his face was turning a nasty shade of purple.

"Why don't you fucking practice what you preach?"

My mother's face disappeared from my view, hiding behind the man I screamed at.

"You're such a fucking hypocrite!"

"Orion!" my mom shouted at me then.

"It's. O'Ryan!" I bellowed at her.

My father took a step forward, and for a second I thought he was going to hit me. When he didn't though, I stood up straighter.

"I wouldn't have to turn my music up so loud if you two would just shut the fuck up for once!"

Then suddenly everyone was screaming. I wasn't even sure everything they said, but I knew what I said. It was mean, and nasty. I told my father he was a bully, and my mom was a wimp who should have the courage to leave him. I told them how miserable they were making me. And as my father ranted about how he would return me if he could, I grabbed a lamp and threw it across the room.

"Orion!" my mom screamed, looking scared.

For a second the room froze. It went from absolute chaos into a frightening silence. My father and I were glaring at one another. I couldn't look at my mother; I felt guilty for scaring her.

"Trust me," I told my dad in a quiet, flat voice. "I wish you never would have adopted me."

My dad took a step forward, arms outstretched to grab me. "You stupid, ungrateful, little—"

But then he stopped. I didn't understand why. He stopped, and suddenly his purple face turned a milky white. Sweat immediately started to drip out of his face, and his shirt quickly became soaked. He gave a sort of gasp, clutched his chest, and then fell forward. I thought he was going to topple right on top of me, so I leaped back as he fell on his face.

"Bill?" my mom whispered.

None of us moved. Alarms were going off in my head. He wasn't moving.

"D-dad?"

He still didn't move.

My mom had started shrieking like a woman in some horror film. She backed away, fingers clutching at her scalp, until her back hit the wall. She then collapsed into a heap on the ground, wailing as she stared at her husband's unmoving figure.

"Dad!" I shouted, lunging forward on my knees.

He wasn't responding to me shaking him. He wasn't responding to me screaming directly in his ear. My adrenaline gave me strength enough to, after a couple of tries, flip him onto his back. My mom crawled forward, touching his leg, bawling. I had sense enough to see if he was breathing.

He wasn't.

"Mom!" I screamed, scrambling to my feet. As I ran to my room for my cell, I was still talking. "He's not breathing! Give him CPR or something!"

Before I knew it I was back downstairs, calling 911. My mom was giving him CPR like I had told her. I was a little surprised she even knew how to do that. As I watched, terrified, my mom squealing and sobbing in between her efforts, I began to freak out and cry.

"M-my dad's not breathing!" I shouted into the phone as soon as I heard the dispatcher pick up, talking over her. "W-we were t-t-talking, and then—and then he fell over, and—" I clamped my hand over my mouth. "M-m-my mom's giving him CPR b-but I think he might d-d-d-die!"

I knelt next to the unconscious man, doubled over. "H-hurry. H-he c-can't die! Please!"

Oh, how I would come to wish he would have died on that day.