Breaking The Bad Boy (Completed)

Chapter 4: Not A Badass, Just An Ass

I spent about two hours talking to my father about Tyler, ranting about how much of a jerk he was to everyone and how I was sure that Mom wouldn't be able to hold herself together today.

My prediction was pretty accurate.

I let myself into my house just after darkness had fallen. The night sky still carried traces of peach and pink that had been left behind by the gruelling day that I experienced. I was mentally drained and exhausted from my two encounters with Tyler and was desperately seeking comfort food and a good Disney movie.

A gut-wrenching feeling choked me when my ears grew accustomed to the distant wailing. I could hear her. I slotted my key into the lock and twisted the door open, exhaling sharply at the ominous feeling that settled inside me. Fear yawned open inside my stomach like a black hole and it took everything within me not to double over and cry because she had done it again.

The sharp stench of alcohol stang my nostrils making me wrinkle my nose with displeasure and I pursed my full lips into a straight line.

"Mom?" My voice broke as another wail rang through the house.

She looked immaculate this morning. She was doing so well. What went wrong?

I stepped into the hallway and kicked off my chucks, trying to buy myself a minute of sanity before I entered the living room. I don't know why I felt disappointed, I mean it's just the way she deals with it every year but I just couldn't help but feel let down. It was like she was escaping the reality of the tragedy, leaving me to deal with it all alone.

A choking sob resonated through the house before it dissolved into a series of helpless whimpers.

"Jeremy, why d-did you leave me?"

It came out in big slur as if the words were stumbling over each other trying to get out in one big rush. I squinted and trudged into the living room. Groping the wall for the light switch, I acknowledged the two empty wine bottles strewn at the foot of the couch. All the lights were switched off but I could still make out the slumped figure shaking on the carpet.

"Jem, I miss you so m-much it's k-killing me! It's b-been eight years and I c-can't move on..."

My finger found the switch and light flooded the room when I paused by the doorway. My breath hitched and my chest caved in as if the air was being forcefully sucked out of my lung.

Just like every year, the bottles were discarded beside my mother whilst she lay on the floor in a crumpled heap as if she was kneeling at an altar, praying for a miracle - an unheard miracle to bring the dead back.

"We were supposed to g-grow old together...We made plans when we were twelve to visit London, Paris, Sydney, Beijing...What am I supposed to do with those empty plans now?"

My heart hammered painfully in my chest, clenching with sadness. She spent the entire year holding everything in, flashing me smiles that concealed her inner grief but every year on my birthday she would crack open a bottle and just cry her worries away. She rarely drank except on this occasion and I couldn't exactly yell at her for missing my father when I missed him just as much.

"You weren't just my h-husband, you were my childhood b-best friend and soulmate..." Mom trailed off before letting loose a humourless laugh. "You made my life a living hell sometimes, but that was what made us u-us–"

When she broke down I couldn't take it anymore, I stepped into the room and picked up the two bottles. Mom glanced up and met my eyes with shame. Her pale blue eyes welled up and her face crumpled like paper and I immediately enveloped her into a bear hug.