ROSES AND RUIN

Chapter Four:

~If there's no place like home, and home is where the heart is... If your home goes missing, does your heart do so as well?~

April, 2015. 6 years ago.

~Willow~

Reuben didn’t come home that night or on the next day, or the next day, or the next.

Days stretched endlessly, bleeding into one another. Two days became three, then four, and still… nothing. No word from him, or of him. Not even a call.

Just radio silence.

I didn't know where to begin. Who could I ask? Who would even care? There was no one to reach out to, and the thought of being in this alone was terrifying to me.

At this point, I wasn't just confused anymore; I felt hurt and thoroughly lost like I'd been abandoned in the middle of a raging storm without a compass or a map. I missed my dad. None of this would've happened if he were still here.

What was I supposed to do now? What was expected of me in dire situations like these?

There was also my mother, I guess… but she was a mess and couldn't care less. Fucking useless to me in every sense. I just knew she wasn't going to be of any help with the constant state of mental disarray she was in. She was still drowning in her pain, fighting her own demons. And frankly, far too unstable to aid any of us.

At first, I was prepared to wait for Reuben. He was the adult, he'd know what to do when he returned. He'd fix things, and make everything okay again. Or as okay as it could be, given the circumstances. But by the fourth day, doubt had crept in, shadowing my every thought.

Worry. Guilt. Fear. The pressure of these emotions was too much for me to bear, but what choice did I have? It no longer mattered that I was only a child when I was all my mother and sister had.

Where the hell was Reuben?

Was he alright? Would he come home soon? If so, when?

My heart ached at the possibility that he just might not. That couldn't happen.  He wasn't just a part of my life, he was a part of me. The one piece of my heart that wasn’t already broken by my father’s death and everything that'd followed.

And now, that piece felt like it was being ripped away too. Slowly. Painfully.

Had something bad happened to him? If he’d really gone after those men… I shudder to think about what could've happened.

His absence forced me to take on responsibilities I wasn't ready for. It was like my brain had undergone a factory reset with all the shit now weighing heavily on my shoulders. Grown-up stuff, I often thought. But even as I tried to take action, I still couldn’t believe I’d been left to deal with all of this alone. Left to my own devices in the wake of all the raging misfortune.

That night, four days after everything had gone straight to hell, I sat on the cold floor with the phone I'd borrowed from the grumpy old neighbor weighing heavily in my hand. I hadn't told her what had happened or what I needed it for. In truth, she hadn't even asked. She didn't care. And besides, I was paying to use it, after all.

Nothing came for free.

People minded their own business in this neighborhood—even if you were getting mugged in broad daylight. That was one more thing that terrified the shit out of me about living here.

It'd been the same four nights ago.

“Five minutes,” the neighbor had spat, her shrewd eyes drilling into mine. She didn't care that I was leaving her sight with the phone or that I could try to make away with it; not that I would. If I didn't return it in time, she knew exactly where to find me. Her goon-like children could track me down. Easily and efficiently.