A+

Difference of perspective

Tracy harshly grabbed her son's arm, and pulled him out of the school.

"Nathan.." she looked down at him in disbelief, and he looked up at her. The same blank expression, emotionless eyes, no happiness but no sadness.

"It's okay, honey.. The gunshots, did they scare you?" she asked, her gaze softening as she caressed his cheek.
As expected he didn't respond, instead, he smacked her hand away and walked to the car.

She stared at him for a few moments, before walking to the car as well and then driving away from the school.

-

They arrived home, and as Nathan was about to step out, she grabbed his arm.

"Honey.." she looked down, "Honey, it's okay."

He looked at her hand in disgust, before pulling his arm away and stepping out of the car. She stared at the steering wheel for a few seconds, what had she done?
She felt tears flood her eyes again as she sat, aimless and hopeless. She knew the right thing, but it wasn't the right thing for her. She sighed deeply, before finally unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car.

She glanced over to the passenger seat, to the gun which she knew would be gone, but maybe part of her wished it wasn't the truth that she had to face.

-

Adam stared up at his wall with a blank expression on his face. He forced himself to think about Nathan to avoid thinking about his mother.
The puddle of blood that had been visible under her, her lifeless eyes that were still wide open. If he could've he would've closed them himself, but if he couldn't bare to look at her, or even think about her now, how would he have touched her? And here he was, thinking about her now, the blue eyed cutie didn't occupy his thoughts.

Had it really been suicide? Why did she do it? Maybe Adam didn't know as much as he thought he did.. But why?
The thought wasn't leaving his mind. She'd seemed happy, she had a job, and what Adam figured was a loving husband. Her and Adam didn't interacted less and less the older he got, but when they did interact she'd always seemed fine, happy even.

The gun was in her hand when she was found, the bullet hole was at the very front of her head, of course she'd killed herself.
Adam put his hands on his face, he didn't want to cry, that wasn't what a real man did as his father would say.
How was his father anyway? They hadn't communicated at all since she died, he'd seen his father though. Adam would only leave his room if he was so hungry he felt he'd starve to death, which weren't many times, but then he'd run into his father making himself a sandwich or mac and cheese, but they hadn't spoken.

They didn't need to speak for Adam to notice the hopeless expression that occupied his father's face. Adam wanted to hug him, tell him it was okay to grieve over his wife, to take a break from everything, but he'd never gathered the courage to actually do it. How would his father even react? Talk about how girlish emotions were? Tell Adam to man up? Or possibly, open up to his son?

Maybe in another reality.. Adam had comforted his father, but not in this one, no. In this one the invisible barrier would still stand between them.

Adam sat up, putting his face in his hands again. He sat there for a while, could've been seconds, or minutes, or hours. How did his brain feel so empty yet so crowded? Full of thoughts, while he wasn't consciously trying to think?