Metanoia

eight.

hehe, so tyler's pov :) a lil bit of insight to him .

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eight.

Tyler's POV

"Help!" The whimpering scream of my own voice radiated in my ears, waking me up.

I jolted so suddenly I almost sprained my ankles when I realised I was lying on my bed. My shirt was drenched in sweat, and I was still shivering, as I attempted frantically to recover.

It was the same nightmare all over again, only this time, Alyssa was with the large crowd of people who were laughing and smiling as the executioner shot me. And the worst thing was, I was paralyzed. I couldn't do anything. Because I had deserved all of it.

I played with people, treated them like crap, and then broke their hearts. I beat people up, broke limbs. I pushed people around, ruined their lives. I was the reason my brother is in a coma right now. And now I'm manipulating this innocent girl for cash.

Great, my own conscience was guilt tripping me.

I walked to my mother's room, kissing her cheek.

"B-br-brad? Is that you?" She mumbled, locking her long frail fingers in mine.

I have seen firsthandedly what love does to people, it consumes you, it controls you, it numbs you.

My mother - Brad's abandoment caused her to be emotionally and almost mentally unstable. Her EBD didn't help either.

Which is why I haven't told mum about what Brad had done to Johnny

First the love of her life abandons her, and now he comes back and kills their own son? She'll go batshit crazy, and I can't afford to lose another family member again.

As far as she knows, my brother was overseas studying physics. I dread the day she finds out.

"No, it's me Tyler." I said soothingly to her, locking my fingers with her long frail ones.

"I'm just going to get the textbook I had left at school, yeah? I'll be back in a while." Lying was too easy.

She regained her awareness. It was as if she had broken out of her trance.

"Okay honey, bye." She nodded, her eyes reassuring me she was fine and telling me to go ahead.

I looked into her eyes, before grabbing the car keys to my old worn down truck.

I arrived at the hospital, getting off my car, my legs grazing the synthetic material of the car seats.

I rested on one of the many chairs in the reception waiting for my turn.

"918!"

I walked up to the counter silently. "Hi, I'm here to visit my brother Johnny Spencer."

The nurse tapped the keyboard a couple of times, before handing me a visitor pass.

"Room 267." She said, and I begin my walk to the familiar room I had went into every week in the past few months.

I opened the door, walking to where my little brother's pale lifelessfigure lay. I sat on the edge of the bed, softly stroking his soft cheeks.

His breathing was stabilised by the billions of tubes connected to his mouth and nose.

This is why I needed the cash.

A large part of me was still hoping, while the other minority was telling me there was no hope.

A small teardrop fell from my eyes.

'Real men don't cry', my father's rough voice chanted, haunting in my mind.

It was all my fault Johnny was here. My mother had been in Finland attending a funeral, and my father had come back to our house drunk, after his abandonment of us. Apparently, even the tiniest of things can make you rage when you're drunk and he slapped me leaving a bright red mark across my face.

I had been angered and left the house.

When I had come back Johnny was on the floor, barely breathing. Brad was nowhere ro be seen. Now that I look back, and have pieced the pieces together, I figured that Johnny probably stood up for me.

The 17 year old me had been terrified, not knowing what to do.

I started getting nightmares everyday. Mother hadn't been notified, as she was at her sister's funeral. From what I've heard, they have been close.

When she came back, I just knew I couldn't tell her. I didn't have the heart. I was pretty much a coward. Mind you, she didn't exactly know about Brad's violent tendencies, so I wasn't worried about her finding out. I told her Johnny was studying physics overseas. She was already unstable at that time, so she believed me.

What I still wonder about, to this day, was why Brad wa never violent drunk, when mum was around. It seemed as if he did love my mother, and care for her at some point.

As I zoned out of my thoughts, I once glanced at my brother's thin body.

I never felt so alone.

I got into my truck, driving to an ongoing party I had been invited to.

And when I arrived there I began to do one of the two things I had always done to forget.

Drink.

And then I started to drink the same substance, that caused my father's life to go downhill.

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