Don't Leave Me Here Alone

Chapter Six

Two years earlier

"Do you understand me, Adam? Do you see how little you appreciated her?" Robert sucked in a long drag and puffed out with clear intention. The sound clawed over the crackling line and down Adam's spine. "You don't know how to love, son. That's always been your problem. Ever since you were a kid."

Adam took a shuddering breath and stared around his dorm. His roommate's bed was unmade, clothes strewn on the floor around it. Books rested on every available surface; the desks, floor, shelves, windowsill. They were a mix of his engineering, biology, chemistry, and fine arts courses. The space was small and cramped, messy and warm. It was one of his favourite places on campus. But even the dorm couldn't possibly make this better.

The silence on the phone stretched on. He could hear his father smoking. He could hear the TV in the background of the trailer. The cheers of students out on campus. It was hard to process it all at once with only one working ear, and it all merged together into a senseless cacophony of static.

He swallowed away the ache in his throat. Tears never felt very far away, anymore. It was as though his father had stripped him clear of any armour he'd built up over the years. It had been since long months of abuse since the first phone call. At first it had just been words, cutting in to his subconscious and eating away at his soul. Then, after a couple months, his father had somehow persuaded him to take time to visit whenever he went back to Staunton for Zachariah.

Robert Parrish was a despicable man. Adam knew that. But it didn't change anything. It didn't change his sick compliance when his father put hands on him in ways a parent never should. It didn't change how easily he fell back into the cycle of Robert's anger. The hits and worse came over and over again, and Adam had lost his will to fight. Hiding the bruises from his classmates had been easy. He was good at that. But the guilt of lying to Zachariah was slowly killing him. He'd dipped into horrible habits he hadn't even thought himself capable of just for an attempt at coping.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment Robert had slipped back in under his skin, but the claws were well and truly embedded. All too easily, his father had regained possession of him.

"I know it's hard to hear, son, but it's the truth. You've got no love in you. You're not capable of it."

Adam did know how to love. He was almost certain of it. At least, he had been, before six months of weekly phone calls and the unspeakable things that accompanied them. Nothing seemed clear, anymore. Words were very far from the reach of his tongue.

"Why do you think our family never worked? Because there was something wrong with you from the minute your mom squeezed you out. You were a mistake, boy," Robert chuckled down the phone. "Anyway. I've got to go. Doing an extra shift to cover some bills."

"You got the money I sent you?"

Adam hated how much his voice trembled. Sending money had started a few months before. It made Adam's stomach ache to do it. He kept trying to break the hold, kept trying to remind himself he would be safe and free if he just stopped answering the phone. But it didn't feel that way. His father seemed to haunt his every footstep. He was so, so tired.

"The pittance? Sure, son, I got that." He could hear how Robert's eyes rolled. "It's funny to me, you know? You think you love that boy. But I know you, Adam. I've known you your whole life. And you can't love him. You're just not built that way." The laugh was cruel this time. "Be good, son. I'll call you next week."

The dial tone shocked Adam out of his stupor. He took the phone from his ear. But when he went to hang up, he realised the call had already lapsed. He was just left staring at his home screen, instead. Zachariah smiled up at him. He'd taken the picture the last time Zachariah had come to visit him. He was lying in Adam's dorm room bed, topless. His face was smushed into the pillow and he was staring into the camera with one open eye. His eyes, normally ink black, had shone the colour of chocolate under the direct morning sunlight. The smile written across his lips was easy and small, soft and made only for Adam.