Unwanteds High (AU)

Chapter 45

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains content of parental emotional and physical abuse. It also contains parental alcohol usage, mandatory reporting, and law enforcement.  Also a few heavy curse words. 

This chapter is a heavy one. Everything with Samheed's home life gets very intense. I just wanted to give you all a warning since, I will admit, I cried while writing this chapter. Please take care of yourselves. I appreciate every single one of you. 

Thank you for being so patient with me with barely uploading any chapters in the last couple of years. I made this chapter longer to hopefully make up for the lack of content. Your continued support means so much. I hope you enjoy this chapter. 

((Samheed's POV))

What the hell did I just have to deal with?

I had let Alex sleep against my chest for about thirty minutes before I woke him back up. There was nothing left to say. Alex seemed to not be present, staring straight ahead like he was staring into a void. He thanked me softly before getting out of my truck and going inside his house.

He didn't love Sky. He hasn't this entire time and was pretending to, all based on some preconceived notion of her. His idolized version of her. Yet it seemed to make perfect sense as I was driving back to my place. Alex was a dreamer. A boy who over exaggerates, has a dramatic streak, and constantly has a pencil and paper on him. It makes sense that he would draw up an idealized version of a type of girl he dreamed about.

How were we going to fix this? If they broke up, the group would be split again. It was rough with Lani and me. It was going to be even more difficult with a second couple broken up. As I pulled into my driveway, I knew their breakup was going to be inevitable. If Al did the right thing, he would end their relationship as soon as possible in a private, calm manner.

When I turned off my car, the headlights turning off, I saw there were no lights in the house other than the top bathroom light. My father's car wasn't in its normal spot. My mom's car was there, but I had a feeling brewing in my stomach. Something wasn't right.

Time to go see what disaster my dad probably left behind.

I locked the door behind me when I went in the house. Turning on the foyer light, I tried to listen for any type of noise. At first I didn't hear a single sound, but then five seconds in I heard distant sobs. There was a reason the bathroom light was on.

Climbing up the stairs and walking past my bedroom door, I went to the bathroom door. Clearly my mother was crying inside. Gently I knocked on the wooden door.

"Mom, I'm coming in, okay?"

No response other than tears. Whatever I walked in on, I know I've seen this scene plenty of times before. I've seen the worst already.

I opened the door gently until it was all the way open. This was exactly what I knew I was going to walk into. My mother, sitting in the empty bathtub in her lace pajamas, crying with mascara dripping down her face. She had an almost empty bottle of Pinot Noir cradled in her arms.

"Oh Sammy," she cried, her bottom ruby lip quivering. "I'm so sorry."

This is how it always went. She always apologized profusely. Saying she was sorry I had to see her like this. That she should be strong for her baby boy. That she wasn't going to do this ever again and was going to be better.

Yet she never stopped and never got better. Her apologizes were empty lies.

"Mom, what's going on?" I asked, trying not to sound frustrated. "Why are you crying in the bathtub with wine?"