Parents.. with different treatment

Gone...

The sun rose lazily that morning, casting a soft, golden light into Xander's bedroom. The air was filled with a strange stillness, a quiet anticipation that seemed to envelop him. Xander lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling a heaviness in his chest. He had grown accustomed to the weight of disappointment, but today felt different.

In the days since Colby had broken him with his harsh words and anger, Xander had begun to retreat deeper into himself. He went through the motions of life—eating breakfast, playing with his siblings, and even helping Valerie around the house—but the spark that once ignited his joy had dimmed significantly. He felt like a ghost, wandering through a world where he was no longer truly present.

At breakfast, the atmosphere was tense. Valerie tried to engage the kids in cheerful conversation, but Xander remained silent, his gaze fixed on the table. Colby was there, but he seemed absorbed in his phone, only occasionally glancing up to respond to Xavier's enthusiastic chatter about school. Xander felt invisible, a mere shadow in the room.

"Xander, are you okay?" Valerie asked gently, her voice tinged with concern. "You've been so quiet lately."

"I'm fine," Xander replied automatically, but the words felt hollow, empty. He wasn't fine; he was simply tired of trying. Tired of hoping for approval, tired of longing for affection that would never come. He realized that the more he expressed himself, the more vulnerable he felt—and the more he was met with coldness.

As the day unfolded, Xander's mind buzzed with thoughts. He wanted to turn off the feelings that had begun to consume him. They were painful and overwhelming, like an ever-present ache that never truly went away. He wanted to stop crying at night, stop wishing for love that was out of reach.

After breakfast, he retreated to his room, where the familiar clutter of toys and books lay scattered about. He sat on his bed, legs crossed, and took a deep breath. "I can't feel this way anymore," he whispered to himself. "It hurts too much."

In that moment, something shifted within him. Xander closed his eyes tightly, concentrating on the warmth of the sunlight pouring through the window. He thought of everything that had hurt him—Colby's harsh words, the feeling of being neglected, the longing for a father's love that always seemed just out of reach. With each breath, he imagined pulling those feelings deep inside, locking them away in a small, dark box within his mind.

"I won't feel this," he whispered again, this time more firmly. "I won't let it hurt me." It was a promise to himself, a decision to retreat into a shell where he could no longer be broken.

From that day forward, Xander became a master at turning off his emotions. He practiced it whenever he felt the familiar sting of sadness or disappointment creeping in. When Colby ignored him, he'd simply nod and walk away. When Xavier received praise while he remained overlooked, he'd smile and clap along, even as his heart sank. He learned to stifle his laughter, to keep his joy in check, and to hide any tears before they had the chance to fall.

Valerie noticed the change but felt powerless to address it. She tried to connect with Xander, asking him to share his thoughts and feelings, but he had become an expert at deflection. "I'm good, Mom," he would say, a rehearsed smile on his face, though his eyes remained distant and guarded.

One afternoon, while playing outside with Xavier and Victoria, Xander felt a small spark of joy when they raced around the yard, the laughter echoing in the air. For a brief moment, he forgot his sadness. But then he saw Colby standing on the porch, arms crossed, watching them with a critical eye.

Xander's heart sank, and just like that, the laughter faded. He felt that familiar weight return, as if Colby's presence had sucked the joy from the air. He forced himself to turn off the happy thoughts, locking them away again, the box within his mind becoming heavier.

Later that evening, after dinner, Xander sat in the living room, the television flickering in front of him as his siblings played. Colby was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, barely paying attention to anything happening around him. Valerie sat nearby, trying to keep the atmosphere light, but there was a tension hanging in the air.

Xavier suddenly turned to Xander, his eyes bright. "Hey, Xander! Want to play a game with us?"

Xander's heart raced at the offer, the desire to join in battling with the instinct to withdraw. But then he glanced at Colby, who had suddenly shot them a sharp look, and it crushed his spirits. "No, I'm okay," he replied flatly, his voice devoid of enthusiasm.

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Xavier urged, his excitement contagious.

Xander shook his head, forcing a smile that felt forced. "Really, I'm good."

Disappointment flickered across Xavier's face, but he quickly shrugged it off and returned to playing with Victoria. Xander felt a pang of guilt, but he suppressed it. He had learned to turn off that feeling too.

As the evening wore on, Xander felt the familiar numbness settle over him like a heavy blanket. He was safe in this cocoon of emotional detachment, where nothing could hurt him, but he also realized he had begun to lose pieces of himself. The vibrant, imaginative child who loved to draw and dream felt increasingly distant, as if he were watching from the outside instead of participating in his own life.

That night, as he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Xander felt a mixture of relief and loneliness. He had successfully shut out the pain, but in doing so, he also closed the door on joy, love, and connection. The thought was unsettling, but it was a small price to pay for safety.

"I'm okay," he whispered to himself, the mantra echoing softly in the quiet room. "I can handle this."

And as he drifted off to sleep, Xander found comfort in the numbness, believing it was the only way to survive in a world that felt so painfully unwelcoming. Little did he know, this was only the beginning of a journey where he would have to confront the very emotions he sought to suppress, and learn how to navigate a world that felt far more complicated than he could ever have imagined.