Mr. Halloway's Pet

Chapter Seventeen

I avoid dad's questioning stare as we exit the school. He didn't say one word to me on our journey to the office but I know I wouldn't get off that lucky.

"Mr. Halloway, was it?" He begins, much to my displeasure. I squeeze my lips together and continue walking.

"Mhm." I hum shortly, silently begging for him not to continue.

"And he was your...English teacher?" He continues questioning.

"Yep." I say as we reach the car. Hoping to avoid further confrontation on the matter, I try to swing the door open but it's locked.

"Is there anything else you have to tell me before we head home?" He asks, propping an eyebrow up. God, I hate when he does this. A trait I'd forgotten, but it urks me to my core.

I hate feeling like I'm interrogated and that's exactly what he's doing.

"No, dad, can you unlock the car?" I ask, annoyance lacing my tone. I realize he's still looking at me expectantly. "Please? I'm cold."

With a defeated sigh, his tensed shoulders drop and the car doors click, "Of course, sorry, sweetheart."

Me: 1
Dad: 0

I hide my small victory smile as I duck into the cabin of his dark-colored Kia. I'm not sure if it's a dark dark blue or just black, but my eyes won't be figuring it out today. His interior, however, is similar to Mr. Halloways. Black cushioned leather, some masculine scent blowing through the air freshness on the vents, but also a tiny little cross hanging from the rear view mirror. That small detail does confuse me. Dad's never been religious, quite against it, actually.

His belief that religion was created to divide us and that it is foolish to be so sure that one is correct out of the hundreds is something I was never interested in, but I've adopted it as my own belief.

Though Christianity had never made sense to me, mom is a Christian and would preach the craziest shit to the both of us, which had only driven us further away from the entire aspect of religion.

One day, I'll find passion in discovering the truth behind the world, but for now I'm too busy trying not to let life knock me on my ass. Maybe if some god had actually wanted to be known, they wouldn't make life so damn confusing. How should we make time for them when they obviously don't make the time to build a personal connection with their creation?

That I will never understand. Until I'm directly shown some sort of proof—or anything for that matter—I will continue living my life without being a slave to a God I don't even know exists.

I mean, look at where that got mom.

(A/N: these are not my personal beliefs, just part of my characters story. If you are offended, please tell me and I can change this section of the chapter. I promise my intention is not to offend. <3)

"How's mom doing?" My sudden question catches the both of us off guard. I may not want to be involved in her situation, but my concern gets the best of me.

By the way his face drops, I feel my heart sink right along with it.

Whatever that look signifies, it is most definitely not good.

"I was going to tell you sooner, but I know you weren't wanting to be updated." He clears his throat. I can hear the emotion coating his words, "Your mother is...'stuck'...in a manic episode. They said that she does not respond to her name and they fear the attempt had sent her so far over the edge that she..."

Him trailing off plunges my mind into a dark corner of assuming the worst. Will she die? I don't have much knowledge on manic episodes, or understanding with her illness in general.