"Crestfallen" (Cameron Dallas Fanfiction)

Prologue

The water was oddly calm by the lake tonight. The sun shone upon the small crests perfectly causing the water to look almost transparent. I pick up a quite large stone and grasp my hand around it, putting my thumb on the edge. I slowly retract my arm and let the stone fly out of my hand, skipping for a few feet and sinking back into the water. I sigh and take off my hoodie. It was warm outside to say the least. One day it was snowing and the other it was sweltering.

I stretch my arms up and then throw my hoodie on the grass and crawl over to the shoreline. The sand was hot as my knees crept upon it. I reached the water and looked down to find myself staring at my reflection. I peer at myself oddly and place my hand on my face. My eyes were still drenched from crying, which caused my mascara to completely run down my face and my hair that was previously in a side braid created a few, fairly pretty beach waves. Suddenly, the sun hid behind the clouds and a rush of cold air whispered throughout my back. I splashed the water in front of me, causing my reflection to dissapear. I get up slowly and wipe my face. I stumble down the sand, which burns my feet as I take a step. I look behind me at the water once more and grab my hoodie. I wasn't going to let this happen, not again.

After swimming for a bit, I headed back to the house. The walk wasn't dreadfully far, but today it felt extra long. I hated returning back home after another fight from my parents. They were still married, unfortunately, but everyday I wished and prayed that they would just leave each other. I'm sure the neighbors agreed. They always ended up in a fight even if it was the stupidest thing. I knew it wasn't always like this. It was different before my sister died, two years ago. They used to come home and kiss each other "hello" and "goodbye" and we used to sit together at the table and they used to sleep right beside each other. I remember, that on stormy nights which were quite often for living in Washington, I would crawl right beside them and they wouldn't mind me. My mom would hold my hand and my dad would continue to snore. It was my happy place, so peaceful and calm. I would do anything to get that back.

I swing open the front door, which always makes an obnoxiously loud creaking sound and find my mother with her hands on her temples sitting at the table in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hey." I say quietly and place my bag on the railing of our wooden stairs.

Her eyes follow mine as I make my way to the kitchen pantry and fill a glass up with water. I glance out the small, kitchen window and see Peter, my best friend and basically "savior", outside playing basketball with Michael James, a sophomore douche bag. I had advised Peter not to hang out with him, but he never listened. Personally, I just think Michael hung out with him because Peter was the only junior guy in our neighborhood and according to him, "upperclassmen were always better and more 'experienced'."

"Why is your hair wet?" My mom says sternly. I turn my head back to the table where she continues to read the piece of white paper in front of her. I used to wonder what the little white piece of paper consisted of, but I gave up. She always hid it from me. Sticking it under her thigh, in her purse and even in our safe. She never let it out of her sight.

"I went for a swim for a bit." I say looking back at Peter and Michael. Michael obnoxiously dunks on the hoop and Peter high-fives him, laughing.

"I told you to be home by five, Scarlet. It's six o'clock, nearly."

I glance at the clock and read it. 5:45. Dammit, I had let time go again.

"Sorry." I mumble and walk over to the couch. I fold my hands in my lap and pinch my thumb. I look back at her and take a deep breath. "Where's dad?"

She sighs heavily. I knew better not to ask that question, but I always did. I always wondered if the day actually came and he left us. I wondered if I would walk up to his room and all of his stuff would be gone. My eyes are still locked to my mom and I can hear her sigh again.

"I don't know, Scar. I just don't know." This was always her response. She usually, on a normal night, after responding to that question, rushed upstairs, pulled out a few cigarettes, lit them, smoked them, chugged a few glasses of wine and then simply passed out. Always leaving a puke stain on the bathroom carpet. Today, she didn't move though. Instead, I hear a few weeps and see her hand wipe across her face. I was confused. My mom cried, I knew that, but not once in front of me. I had never seen her cry face to face. It was only when I pressed my ear against her bedroom door. She turned her head slowly and revealed her face. Her eyes were bloodshot red and her hair was all over the place.

"He's gone, Scarlet. He's finally gone."

And, that's what started it all. That's when my parents finally let go from each other. That's when all hell broke loose.