Dirt

36

Princeton

That was the worst day of my life.

Far worse than the actual cause of it all. 

Stan made me tell him it all. Every little thing that has happened in the past year. No matter how much I would try to stop him or change the topic or downplay it. He made me tell him every single thing. By the end I was close to throwing up, he was practically sobbing, and everything was different. 

Everything was so different. 

I only saw the family when Roger got me a shirt to borrow so Stan could take me to the hospital. They all gave me those looks I knew would become the main look on everyone's face when it involved me. 

Mrs. Kelly and Tim told me they prayed I get better soon. Grace tried to avoid my eyes, whispering 'I hope it's all okay'. Roger patted my shoulder lightly and told me he didn't have any other options. I had let this go on too long. Then he told me Cedar was coming back that day and Rain and Basil wanted to see me when I was alright with it. Knox had the freckles on the bridge of his nose visible, a few drops of milk in his water. He had pulled me close, carefully whispering 'It'll all be okay. You don't have to be strong for everyone' then he kissed my cheek and stepped back so I could leave. 

I don't have to be strong for everyone because I'd already failed them all. I wasn't not even strong enough to save myself. 

Stan and I didn't talk the whole 45 minutes to the actual hospital. I let him chose the music, I wouldn't make eye contact either. Mainly because every other minute I was wincing and shifting at the pain the car was causing. Everything just so sore by the time we pulled into the parking lot. 

We sat side by side silently as I filled out the paperwork, silently panicking of how expensive this is going to be because I have no health insurance. I'll have to use all my savings to pay as much of it back as I can. 

We sat silently in the room, while I was getting x-rays, and while the nurses got more info. The doctor was nice, clearly not too focused on me as he put an ugly, hard plaster cast on my wrist. He checked my other wounds, taught me how to clean everything, gave me some pain killers. In the end, he asked if I needed him to fill out a police report. He knew something was up.

Just as I was about to tell him no, Stan spoke up for the first time by stating clearly, "Yes, please. We're going there next."

I whipped my head to him in lighting speed, gritting my teeth so hard they should have broke. We weren't going there next. There was no reason to go there next. But Stan just sat there patiently as the doctor filled out what he needed and gave it to him. 

I tried with everything in me to get Stan not to go to the police. It was a lot of screaming, a lot of crying, a whole lot of betrayal. Stan clearly didn't seem like him as our father. I'm not sure when it happened. It hurts. My family was dissolving before my very eyes. It hurt more having Stan drive us to the police station would most likely result in Dad's arrest than it did when Mom disappeared out of nowhere. It hurt more being there and not being able to stop it. 

By the time we pulled into the station, I didn't have a life left. I didn't have a fight, I didn't have words, I didn't have a reason. 

Everything was dead. And it stayed like that.

The police station was chaotic but everyone was nice. I know we looked like a pair, puffy, red eyes, and tension between us. I didn't want to talk when they asked questions. Stan tried to fill what he could, tried to explain the situation with a strain in his voice.