𝙇𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙔𝙤𝙪

2. 𝘿𝙖𝙙

𝙍.𝙄.𝙋. 2 𝙢𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝- 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙙 "𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙖𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩, 𝙉𝙤𝙬 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨"

Kaden Parker
Parker House, Monday 6pm

The drive back from Mason's school meeting weighed heavy on my mind. The principal had laid it out bluntly—Mason wasn't just falling behind in class; he was acting out, skipping lessons, and getting into fights. The kid was only fourteen, and I knew it wasn't entirely his fault. How could anyone focus on school when our home felt like a warzone?

I walked into the kitchen, tossing my backpack onto the counter. I should've been at practice—first one of the year—but here I was, dealing with a meeting that any parent would've attended. Not that our dad would even know what day it was, let alone that Mason was one step away from being expelled.

I grabbed what little we had from the fridge and started chopping vegetables. We didn't have much, but I made it work. I worked weekends at the corner store and nights at the auto shop, scraping together enough to keep the lights on, food on the table, and a little bit set aside for Mason's college fund. New shoes, new clothes—I didn't need those things. They did.

The knife hit the cutting board harder than I meant. I was mad—at dad, at Mason, at myself. Mason didn't deserve this life, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't protect him from it.

I tossed some frozen veggies into the pan and watched Mason shuffle in and sit on the stool in front of the kitchen table. "Are you mad?"

"Yeah, I am" I turned my back to him keeping an eye on the stove. "Skipping class, fighting come on Mace give me something to work with here."

He slumped further into the chair looking me square in the face. His eyes mirroring the same shade as mine but he looked sadder. More defeated.

This wasn't my kid.

He shrugged; his eyes downcast. "Does it matter? Nothing's gonna change."

His words stung more than I let on. He was fourteen, but those bruises made him look older, worn out. Like he was already beaten down by life. He shouldn't have to feel like that—not yet. The purple didn't stop at the bags under his eyes, it continued to bruises on his jaw and cuts on his knuckles.

"Look, I get it." I paused, flipping the veggies in the pan, trying to keep my voice steady. "But you can't just stop trying. Not with school, not with anything."

Mason's jaw tightened, his fists clenching on the table. "You don't get it, Kade. You're always cleaning up after dad, taking care of everyone. But what about you? You don't fight back. You don't do anything."

His words cut deep because they were true. I didn't fight back. I took it all, hoping one day things would get better, even though I knew they wouldn't. I took it all so they wouldn't have to.

"You think fighting's gonna fix this?" I asked quietly. "It won't, Mase. All it's gonna do is make you feel more like him."

Blood for blood doesn't do anything but make you feel like an even shitty person. I want to hold him, shake him, tell him if he tries it will be better, but I know I can't lie to him. I know if he stops fighting at school, actually tries with tests it wouldn't change a damn thing at home.

His face twisted in frustration, like I just didn't understand. "Yeah, well, pretending everything's fine isn't working either."

I sighed, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in my chest. "I'm not pretending. But you getting into trouble at school isn't gonna fix things at home."