His Scars

35. No Take-backs. No Refunds.

Where was she? Hiding in a corner feeling uninspired, that's where. Also, I realised there's some stuff that I want to change in the book. This played a part in keeping me from writing any more. But I will get to it. This is, in a way, a very rough, first draft. 

Also, this song I feel, reflects how Kane sees Sage and I love the MGK version of it.

Anyway, do let me know what you think. Unedited.

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KANE 

I was sat on a very familiar-looking swing. Familiar, but not one I spent much time on. I looked around at the playground I was in. The slide in front of me was familiarly rusted. The trees rustled in the wind. A few toys lay abandoned. I was sitting in my childhood swing-set behind our sprawling house. A little playground my father had put together just for me because my mother didn't appreciate me running over her beautifully manicured lawn. 

"I should have spent more time with you here. I should have just let you go crazy on the lawn when you could. I never dreamed it would all be lost."

My heart stilled at the sound of the voice; musical and sweet to my ears. I turned to see her sitting on the swing next to me. Something in my chest constricted at the sight. She was beautiful. Not the woman I had in the forefront of my dreams, but the one who had been fading away.

"Mom." I breathed.

Her  glossy, soft brown hair whipped across her face. Her eyes, were clear and bright as they gazed back at me. I swallowed hard.

"It's been a long time sweetheart." She said. An endearment she had not used since my father passed.

I didn't know what was happening, but I didn't want to question it.

"Too long." I said instead.

"I've been watching you. I'm so proud at how you've turned out. Strong, wise, kind. My handsome boy."

Anger welled inside me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her.

She smiled and looked around. "I'm not sure. Maybe I'm trying to bring you some peace?"

I snorted. "Peace? I don't think I would recognize it even if you hurled it at my face."

Her smile fell a little.

"It's my fault."

"Why Mom? I keep running it over in my head. But I can't figure it out. Why was I never enough? Why could you never pull yourself together for me? I needed you. I know you loved Dad, but what about me? Was I not reason enough to try?"

Her eyes teared up but she didn't say anything.

"I keep making excuses for you as though I understand, but I don't. I've tried to understand but I keep failing." My voice cracked, making me ashamed at the emotion I was showing when she had never spared me any.

"It's not your duty to make excuses and try to understand me." She said, and I looked at her. These eyes, I remembered. These sad ones.

"I never gave you a reason to make excuses. You were a kid. I should have been there. All those vile things I did, I can't offer an explanation. So how could you? When I lost your father, I thought I had lost everything, my best friend, my soul, my heart, my very reason for existing. But I was wrong. My reason had been there in front of me the whole time. For seven years he was there, begging me to see him, begging me to acknowledge him. But I shut him out like a coward.