Addicting

Broken

Bob's note: Don't tell Gabe, but I might have a crush on him..
***********************************

Asher's POV

"Hello? Dad?"

There's a pause. The line on the other side crackles a bit.

"Dad? Hello? Say something." My voice shakes a bit. What is taking him so long to reply?

"Honey.."

Something's wrong. I can feel it. His voice sounds not just tired, but upset in a way.

"What is it, Dad?" I ask, getting more desperate with each word.

I turn the TV off, trying in vain to listen so I don't miss anything. My chest tightens at the thoughts going through my head. I have to force myself to breathe.

I can hear someone talking to my dad, but it's too muffled to understand anything. I'm curious but frightened at the same time.

"Asher?"

"I'm still here Dad. What's wrong?"

"We...we got in a car crash.."

My stomach turns over and I suddenly feel sick. Oh no. Fuck no. Fuck.

Wait, Dad's alive. I feel relief wash over me. But why does he sound so upset? Surely if he's fine.. but..wait what about..

"Where's Mom?"

There's another pause, but this time it's longer. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears as I try (and fail) to wait patiently for the answer. I feel like screaming. What is taking him so long?

"Dad..? Dad??" I'm nearly crying now. I know he's still on the line because I can hear him take a shuddering breath.

No. It can't be, please no.

"Dad.." I hold my breathe, waiting for him to answer, as tears start streaming down my face. I slowly realize what he's going to say.

"She..she didn't make it, honey.."

No. Fuck no.

"What do you mean?? Where's Mom?" I nearly scream into the phone, even though I know damn well where she is at this point.

I can't stop the tears from streaming freely down my cheeks. Fuck, no this can't be happening. No please no. Please I can't live without her. I love her. Please, no. It can't be her.

"What happened Dad?"

"...she didn't make it.."

FLASHBACK

Finally, dinner time. My stomach grumbles in protest. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast.

I settle down in my usual place, waiting for Mom and Dad to join the table so we could finally eat. As soon as my parents sit down, I take my time eating, knowing I'll have to wash the dishes later.

I hate washing dishes.

By the time Mom is finished eating, I'm still half way done. She glares at me. I know she hates it when I eat slow. Finally growing impatient, I see Mom get up and check the fridge at the corner of my eye, probably looking for expired shit.