Promises We Keep

13

A/N *suicide trigger warning* it's not much but proceed with caution

KEN POV

"Just help me to understand, Kenti," My mom says pinching the top of her nose, my college list crumbled in the center of the table.

"What is there not to get?" I know I was pushing it, but I really didn't want to have this conversation. I'm not fully sober yet and I want nothing more than to wash off the remainder of Alice's scent. But, no, here I am, sitting at our kitchen table with my mom close to tears in front of me.

"There are no in-state schools on your list, Kenti. Not even University of Chicago! That is a prestigious school."

"I don't want to go there," I say simply.

"But it doesn't hurt to apply and keep your options open. You should at least apply to some closer schools."

Of course.

"Is it my school choice or the location that's bothering you so much?" I say, my tone daring. I'm not trying to be a smart ass but the events of this day have left me totally numb and I could care less right now.

My mother sighs, rubbing at her temples. "Can you just please apply to some closer schools. I don't want you to go too f-"

"No. Not happening. I want to be as far away from here as possible," I interrupt, an edge to my voice.

Her eyes shoot up in shock at this. "What! Why?"

Why!? Is she seriously asking me that!

"What do you mean why, mom? Why the hell would I want to stay here? It's....it's suffocating!" I shout standing up from the table. I take a deep breath trying to push down the surging emotions trying to come up. It's been getting harder to keep them at bay for some reason and I find myself actually praying for the numb feeling to stay firmly in place.

My mom's face crinkles in confusion and her oblivion just pisses me off more. "I don't understand, Ken."

I drag my hands through my hair in an attempt to calm me down but my gaze drifts towards the living room. The room I hate to even stand in let alone look at. The room that in a split second turned from being one of the greatest places in the house to a space that I wanted to burn to the ground. My mom follows my eyes and her breath hitches. She stands up too, walking towards me.

"Kenti, sweetie. I understand how-"

"Understand?!" I lose it. "No you don't fucking understand, Mom! If you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation. If you did, I wouldn't be so nervous about showing you my list of schools in the first place. If you understood," I say my voice cracking, "then you would know, that the fact that my father hung himself on that ceiling fan in that living room right across this kitchen is smothering me! That every time I look at it, I feel as though the walls are closing in on me!" I shout at her, the memories of it running through my head. 

The curdling scream from my mom still echoes in my mind. The image of my fathers feet dangling above the ground before my mom shoved me away. The realization that my dad, the guy who always made me laugh, the guy I could talk to about anything, the guy who told me he loved me five times a day, was never coming back.

"Then I'll get rid of the fan. I'll change up the room," she sobs, pulling me out of a spiraling mind.

"Why didn't you change the house!" I scream unable to control the emotions flowing through me anymore. How could she be so goddamn stupid?