Love's Sins (Sequel to Silent Cries)

Chapter Eight - Loss.

One Month Later..
Bryan's POV

Jory wipes his eyes with the tissue I offered him a moment ago, his face already growing swollen and puffy from crying. I can understand why, I mean talking about a man that ran out on you right after you were born must be hell. I would know since Edwin kicked mom and I to the curve when I was all too young. I guess there really isn't an age appropriate enough to lose someone.

"Jory, just take all the time you need to calm your nerves. I'm aware and understand completely how difficult this must be for you." I say, my tone laced with empathy. He keeps his head down and hiccups, trying to calm down regain control of his breathing. "H-How could you understand?.." He sniffles, looking up at me with hateful eyes.

I don't even cringe at this sort of thing from clients, most people are opposed to any help from an outsider and hate being given sympathy. But what they don't understand is that most social workers and personnel in the mental health field do have similar issues to them. It's not always just raw sympathy.

"I lost my father when I was very young. He wasn't the best man but it still hurt a lot." I say warmly, earning a look of shock from his innocently pain stricken face. The boy is only ten so of course he doesn't get when not to gawk over something so common. "Oh, sorry.." He mumbles meekly, the blood licking up his neck and joining at his dark brown hair from embarrassment. I can't help but chuckle, getting up from my chair with him following and pat him on the shoulder. "It's okay. Now let's go and discuss your next appointment with your mother, shall we?" I smile, pulling open the door and laughing once he takes off down the hall.

xxxx

Jory and Ms. Ross walk out of the building, Jory running ahead with his mother following with a waddled walk in his wake. Nothing slows down that kid. Shaking my head, I slip his papers back into the files and head back to my office. It's already nine so counseling hours are over and the center is closing. The only people that linger are the janitor and my coworkers, probably just finishing off an appointment themselves.

Pulling out my desk chair, I sit down and am greeted with the chair's squeal of opposition against my weight. I face my computer and sigh, pressing my palms over my eyes and relaxing my tense frame. It feels like I'm stuffed into a skin that's much too tight for me. I've been back in work for a solid week now and I'll admit I'm several ways it's helped me to get past the daily grief periods, in others it just makes me tense and I am filled with the selfish lack of compassion and care for others I'm supposed to be helping with all that I have.

I fondle for the box of tissues on the desk top, closing my fingers around one and bringing it up to dab my eyes. I feel like such a nervous wreck, all of my movements forced like a puppet master is tugging at me much like they would to operate a marionette. I have no choice but to remain strong for those around me and for the life I've built up around me. I've been attending group sessions for grief counseling from the day Joan ditched me off at the community center, not holding onto her promise of us going to get a cup of coffee. She still knows me all too well and knows that I've got too much pride to request for help. I think it's funny, the counselor BEING counseled.

Finally my nerves begin to settle and each breath I take is a little easier. Sometimes people just need moments of tranquility in order to recompose themselves along with their sanity. That's what most of my clients do. I hate calling them that because they are for more than just a measly paycheck or some other payment method; they are each their own person much like me. I rise with my heavy thoughts, still heavy as lead in my mind and weighing me down. I just need to get home now, this is only the beginning of the quiet before the storm.

The car ride is even more tedious with my desperate hankering to get home to my bed so I can finally fall apart. I even get testy and honk at a woman on her phone who refuses to drive at a green light. I'm finally home after what seems like years of driving down the same route, shuffling up the steps to my house and letting myself in within minutes of parking and shutting off the car.

I collapse onto my bed in a heap, pressing my face into my pillow and grimacing. Today was filled with back to back cases of people going through similar events that I have. One woman losing an ex husband, a young boy with an abusive mother and aunt, and Jory with his father running out on him before he was even born. In some ways I almost envy Jory, I wish my father had left us sooner but my mother was too battered to get up and leave and he wasn't yet ready to end his reign of terror over us. We haven't heard from him since he walked out the door.

The darkness and silence begins to close in around me, making me feel even smaller than I already felt. I can see why Rory was always so terrified of the dark and deadest silences. I remember all of the times that he'd wake up wailing and thrashing with only my embrace to comfort him until the terrors were over. His parents fucked him up beyond repair. These memories of us only drive me deeper and I scramble in the bed, desperately wanting and needing a new way to breathe.

His eyes still haunt me, the feel of his lips still a seemingly fresh memory. Those are just a couple of the things in my mind that torment me. His vicious final assault with taking his life will always serve as a final knife in my back. Rory's assault will never end and I'll always be stuck with the fact that he didn't even love me or anyone enough to stay alive.

Author's Note.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I wanted to write it as a way of seeing deeper into Bryan's mind and reveal just how damaged he's begun to feel after Rory's suicide. Everyone deals with grief in their own ways and Bryan is having it harder due to his previous issues with abandonment.

What did you guys think? I'm beginning to contemplate a Novella for Bryan's mother's story. I haven't yet decided on a name or cover, but I'm hoping to start it after this book is through. Please do leave a vote or comment if you feel that this chapter deserved it. I love any interaction with you guys.

Until next time.. Stay Strong.