Between The Lines

Chapter 121: Confronting The Void

Lane's POV:

The rain hadn't stopped. It drummed incessantly against the roof of Lane's car as he sat parked outside the school the next morning. He hadn't meant to come in so early—had barely slept after returning from the park—but sitting in the silence of his house was unbearable. The memories were suffocating, and so he found himself here, hours before he was required, watching the rain streak down the windshield.

He was exhausted, both mentally and physically. His eyes were bloodshot, his head pounding from the lack of sleep and the flood of emotions he had been battling. His mother was gone. Rebecca was out of reach. His life felt like it was unraveling at an alarming speed, and he had no way to stop it.

He leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to center himself before the day started. The rain had soaked him to the core yesterday, but the coldness hadn't left him, not even in the warmth of the car. His clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin, reminding him of the heaviness he couldn't shake.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the window jolted him back to reality. His eyes snapped open, and he glanced out to see Matt standing there, his expression hard to read. Lane unlocked the door with a sigh, feeling a mix of irritation and exhaustion. He wasn't ready for this conversation—whatever it was—but he knew he couldn't avoid it forever.

Matt slid into the passenger seat, his body stiff, his eyes scanning Lane's tired face. There was a long, uncomfortable silence as the rain continued to fall, neither of them knowing how to begin.

"Have you even slept?" Matt finally asked, his voice laced with concern.

Lane just shook his head, staring ahead at the rain-soaked school building. "Does it matter?" he muttered, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.

Matt sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "Lane, you can't keep doing this. You need to process—"

"I'm fine," Lane interrupted sharply, though the lie was painfully obvious. He wasn't fine. Nothing was fine.

"No, you're not," Matt shot back, his tone firm but not unkind. "Mom's gone, and you're acting like you can just ignore that. We all have to deal with this, Lane. You can't keep bottling it up."

Lane clenched his fists in his lap, his jaw tightening as he fought against the surge of emotions. He didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to think about it. But the guilt gnawed at him all the same, clawing at his insides.

"I don't know how to deal with this," Lane admitted quietly, his voice barely audible over the rain. His chest felt tight, the words catching in his throat. "I don't know how to feel anything anymore."

Matt sighed again, this time softer. "No one does, Lane. There's no right way to handle this. But shutting everyone out—shutting yourself off from everything—it's only going to make it worse."

Lane swallowed hard, his throat dry. He had been shutting everyone out. Not just Matt, not just his father, but Rebecca too. He had pushed her away, made everything more complicated, and now she wasn't there to help him through this. His mind flashed to the bruise on her stomach, to the way she had tried to hide it, to how distant she had become, and it made his chest ache even more.

"I just... I don't know what to do anymore," Lane admitted, his voice cracking as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. He felt broken in a way he had never felt before, as if everything he had built his life on was crumbling beneath him.

Matt placed a hand on his shoulder, a rare display of affection from his brother. "You don't have to do it alone," he said quietly. "None of us do."

Lane's breath hitched as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stay at bay. He had to keep it together, had to find some way to function in all this chaos. But the grief was so overwhelming, it was all-consuming.