Special - Ryden

Chapter Seven

TW//

Death of a parent, funeral, panic attack, implied abuse.

I stare at the picture. It was of a younger me and my mom. I go to the next one in the stack.

Her funeral.

I remember the flowers and photos set up by the memorial we made her. My dad came, but he sat for most of it. I knew how much my mom's death hurt him, so I never made him look at it.

I did though.

That was the moment I knew it was real. She wasn't even here, her own funeral. She wasn't coming back. I'd never see her again.

The next photo.

It was an image of my grandma (my mom's mom) speaking at the funeral. She had lost her husband only a year and a half before her daughter.

It was sad. Depressing.

I wonder what my mom would do if she could see me now. Would she care if she knew about... my powers? Using "powers" feels so weird. What would she do about my dad? Whenever he did dumb things she would lecture him, but I have a feeling that this deserves more than just a lecture.

Next photo.

This one was of me again. At the cemetery, they have places for people who weren't buried. They put the ashes there if they were cremated. It was pretty much a wall of headstones. I stared at her name. The dates. The message at the bottom.

My dad was the one who took the picture.

In the photo is was the winter after she had died. We never get to see her anymore. I don't have a way to get to her memorial. I feel bad. Guilty. I should see her more. It makes it seem like I don't care. And it's slightly my own selfishness. I don't want to have a breakdown.

That's when I realize I kind of am having one right now. I laugh at myself. I realize I'm crying and I think I'm having a panic attack. My breathing is fast and I have "that" feeling in my chest, arms, and legs.

I try to breathe deeply. It sort of works.

I hear the twist of a doorknob down the hall and immediately hold my breath.

My dad doesn't like it when I cry.

I hear another doorknob turn and a door open and close slight closer and a second later. It was the bathroom.

I'm finally able to take deep breaths.

I want to talk to someone. My dad would never get me a therapist and I can't pay for one or get to one myself. I could talk to my friends but... I don't know how to. I don't know if I want them to know, or if they would even care. I can't talk to my dad for obvious reasons, I don't know what to do.

And this is why I write music.

I turn to the almost-finished song, Camisado.

And I finish it.

And I actually like it.

Awsten opens an unlocked window that looks like it goes to Dallon's living room. He pulls himself up and gets inside before grabbing my hand and helping me up.

"Dallon's room is upstairs." Awsten says in a whisper.

We walk gently to the stairs across the wood floor. Wood floors are the hardest to get across without people hearing. Luckily the stairs are carpet, so we make less noise as we walk up them with the same amount of caution.