SHATTERED DREAMS

CHAPTER 1: The Breakdown

Prinz's POV

My name is Prinz Tumbleton. I'm a loner, not by choice but rather as a result of the many events that have occurred in my lifetime.

When I was eight, my grandparents died in a car accident. I was really close to them. They would come over every weekend and have dinner with my parents and me. We'd usually hang out and tell stories by the fireplace. Mine were always very expressive stories about animals. Everyone would laugh when I placed myself in the middle of the room and acted them out. I always went into great detail when talking about penguins. For some odd reason had an unhealthy obsession with them at the time. I still find them extremely cute to this day, though.

Would make sure to steal my grandma or grandpa's lap whenever I could. I loved the feeling of their hugs and their sweet smell. It always made me feel so cheerful. I was a total sucker for hugs; I think I still am.

Every Christmas, I would run down the stairs and eagerly await my grandparents' arrival. I was more excited about them than my presents, which is unusual for kids. Guess I'm just a leech for any type of affection. My mom and dad would always laugh at how clingy he was. I'd even stick to them. Whenever my grandparents were gone would migrate toward my parents like a magnate.

We've had so many great moments that whenever we think back can't help but smile.

One night in October, my grandparents were coming over for dinner. I remember I glued to the front door glass like some kind of plunger. Watched as the thick snowflakes drifted from the gloomy sky and hit the pavement. Before I knew it, it was already seven-thirty, and my grandparents still hadn't shown. They were warned by my parents that the roads were slippery, so I assumed they were just being cautious until about nine that night. We got a call reporting a crash. My father rushed out the door, looking distressed like any I'd seen. My mind couldn't process what was happening then, so I stood still, clueless. My mom took me by the hand into the living room so we could watch TV. She tried to comfort me, but now that I look back on it, she was more frightened than I was. I fell asleep on the couch, still confused about what was happening.

I woke up about an hour later to hear the door pop open and chatter coming from the same direction. Crept over to the noise and poked my head out the corner. My father looked horrified as he forcefully pressed the heavy words from his lips. What had come out of his mouth shook our worlds. He confirmed the death of Mrs. Darline and Mr. Feral Canterberry, my grandparents. My mother fell to her knees, breaking out into tears. I soon followed behind, startling my unsuspecting parents. My mom crawled over and wrapped me tightly as I bawled my eyes.

After that night, everything started going downhill. My father grew into a deep depression that eventually led to a drinking problem. I could never fall asleep at night without crying my eyes out for half an hour unless! Had my mom by my side. She held it together better than all of us.

With every passing day, things only got harder. My dad eventually got fired from his job. He had a lot of trouble finding another, and when he finally did, we had to move across the country. We bought an apartment and moved in some of the stuff from our previous house. Our new home was nothing like the other. It was cheap since my father was trying to save money.

As I entered the dimly lit apartment, a musky foul smell swept past my nose. I am not used to being in this kind of situation. I grew up in a clean, beautiful home for the previous nine years of my life. This one had mold, and the neighbors were noisiest. My room had a much better layout this time, so it was alright. Even so, I couldn't sleep the first couple of nights properly and felt uneasy sleeping in an unfamiliar space.

When I couldn't sleep one night, I listened in on what I thought was the neighbors arguing, as they usually do. It was then that I realized it wasn't them but my parents. It was unusual for them to fight, so I became concerned and curled up under my blankets, hoping to fall asleep. The noise didn't stop until there was a shatter and a yelp. Alarmed, I jumped out of bed. After a brief moment of silence, I heard my mother crying at the doorway to their room. I waddled out of bed and down the corridor to console her. I asked her what had happened, but she kept telling me everything was fine and that I shouldn't worry. Even then, I could tell she was lying. My question was answered a few days later when my father decided to beat her in front of me. I tried to stop him by yelling, "Dad, stop! You're hurting her!" This earned me a backhand into the table, of course. My mother rushed to my side to check on me. Later, she told me not to approach him when they were fighting, or she wasn't present.