All Tables Turned

Chapter 5: Lies, Lies, and More Lies

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After that unbearable car ride with my mother, my brain has practically decomposed into a disorganized clutter of emotional turmoil and confusion. What exactly is one supposed to do when they have to protect somebody they love from their loved ones?

The very question makes my body heavy as I collapse onto my bed in defeat. My head sinks deep into the warm solace of the fabric, drawing me closer and closer to unconsiousness. As my vision is veiled by my descending eyelids, an image begins to creep into my sight from the back of my skull.

It's a vivid snapshot of Xavier and I as kids. We're both sitting in front of our old, tattered house, with Xavier wrapping his arm around my shoulder as I playfully try to push him away. We both have this exhilarating gleam in our eyes, as if being in each others' warm company was enough to light both our worlds aflame. As my eyesight becomes completely capped by my eyelids, I begin to lose track of all my senses as I slowly fall asleep.

But of course, the comfort couldn't last.

At that moment, I was viciously ripped out of my slumber by the startling sound of my father's yelling. As if on cue, my body pulls away from the gentle luxury of my bed and hastily bolts through my bedroom door. My feet scrambled down the stairs as the howling grew incessantly louder. When I finally made it to the living room, I was struck by a staggering scene.

My father is mercilessly holding Xavier by the collar of his shirt, as Xavier stares at my father with a vexatious grin plastered on his face. Watching anxiously from the peanut gallery was my mother, who's disastrous hair was even more twisted than it was when we were in the car.

"What the hell do you have to say for yourself, kid?!" exclaimed my father. His grip became so tight, I could hear the fabric of Xavier's shirt begin to tear. Neither of them seemed to mind.

In a swift moment of panic, my body runs towards them and desperately pushes them both away from each other. My dad keeps a firm grip on Xavier's shirt as the spit from his temper tantrum begins to invade my face.

I can only assume that, much like Mom, Dad figured out that Xavier was the one who broke my arm the other day. If that's the case, then there's only one way I can end this.

Lies, lies, and more lies.

"Dad, it wasn't him!" I exclaimed. He turned and glared at me with unbridled rage, his pupils pulsating even faster than my heartbeat.

"What did you say?"

"It wasn -- "

"Of course it was him! We heard it straight from his mouth!"

My dad's exclamation left me utterly speechless. After days of trying to cover for Xavier, I can't believe he would expose himself so candidly. Was all my effort for nothing? Does he really not care about what Dad does to him?

I don't believe him. I can't. I won't. But, what reason would Dad have to lie?

I slowly look back at Xavier for confirmation. As our eyes meet, my entire body shivers with both panic and vexation. With a massive, enervating grin on his face, he gave me a condescending wink with his left eye.

He really did do it. 

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