FireFly

Chapter One

Going to the orchard was a bad idea.

It was rundown, the few other families that were there didn't look as happy as they were supposed to be, rotten apples were just strewn across yellow grass where groundskeepers hadn't bothered to pick them up, even the swing set which Connor and Zoe used to play on had turned orange with rust from age, and Connor doubted that it'd even be able to hold a child's weight anymore.

The Murphy family were having a picnic at the orchard.

"I think we could all do with some reminisce of the glory days." Cynthia had said when the family argued on what a terrible idea that was.

Connor had attempted suicide, nearly successfully too. That was why they were participating in this sad state of affairs, "family time." He'd had it planned for months, the suicide, but finally worked up the bollocks to go through with it a couple of weeks ago. He took pills out of Larry's medicine cabinet and fucked off to the park after a big fight about his hair.

His hair. Connor nearly killed himself because his dad disapproved of his hair. The one thing he felt like he had control over and it nearly made him loose everything.

Obviously it wasn't just his hair that made Connor not want to live anymore, but it was what pushed him over the edge that day.

Now, however, saw Cynthia sitting on an old, threadbare, checkered picnic blanket on the rough ground. Larry was next to her, resting on his knees and a pitiful spread of food was laid out before them.

Zoe was laying down, Connor couldn't tell if she was cloud watching or asleep.

And Connor? He was just sitting with his long legs stretched out, covered by the heavy fabric of his jeans even on such a hot day.

The silence was near unbearable. The only sound was that of the family on the other side of the field. Two parents and two young toddlers, a girl and a boy. Like the Murphy family had once been, hopeful and young and full of laughter.

There wasn't much hope anymore. Hell, there was fuck all laughter either. And Connor hadn't been young for a long time, his childhood was ripped from him by mental illness before he was done with it.

He hadn't been done dressing up for Halloween. He hadn't been done with getting excited over Christmas, waiting up till midnight with hot chocolate. He wasn't done with Easter Egg Hunting or having birthday parties.

Connor wasn't done with living, but by the time he realised this, he was too late and his brain had decided for him.

"Isn't this nice?" Cynthia asked in a falsely sweet voice, "That family over there reminds me of you two. My God, you were so young." She sighed and clutched at her heart, looking over at the family as if she could pretend her children were still babies and that her family was not falling apart at the seams.

"How is this nice?" Zoe asked quietly. Ah so she wasn't asleep, Connor thought.

"Zoe." Larry warned. Suddenly the whole mood shifted from a quiet, depressing silence to a heavy and tense atmosphere.

"So is this why you brought us here, Mum?" She asked, propping herself up on her elbows so she could really glare at her parents, "To relive the 'glory days' and pretend that your son didn't just try to off himself?"

Connor didn't dare steal a glance at Cynthia, he knew what her facial expression would be. Heartbreak and disappointment, the same damn expression she wore every day of this pitiful little life.

He could hear the tears welling up in his mother's brown eyes, so much like her daughters when she next spoke, "Zoe sweetheart, please don't bring up-"