Credence

I stare at my parents’ caskets, closed, so we all would remember them the way they were.

And the tears start falling down my cheeks, now after days.

I hate them.

I hate them, and I’ve wasted too much time hating them.

This isn’t where I want to be.

You loved each other. I wipe my tears, looking over at them and the words I couldn’t muster before finally coming. You were luckier than most.

At least they had each other.

You were capable of so much when it came to love. I drop my eyes, staring at my lap, my fists clenching around my coat. And you considered what it would be like to live without love, because you decided not to live without each other. Did you consider what it was like for me—all these years—living without you?

Tears fall silently, and everything is blurry. I close my eyes, all the years of anger rising up as I grit my teeth.

I hate your house, I tell them in my head. I hate the stench of your perfume and your candles and your hairspray. I hate the feel of your clothes and the white walls, the white carpets, and the white furniture. I try to calm my breathing. The library full of books that have never been opened and how nothing was ever warm.

I hated you.

I can’t catch my breath. The air just feels too thick. I’m cold.

I hate how I never told you any of this. How I never fought or said anything or called you out. How I never walked out to look in the world for what I needed. How I let you win.

How I never let you know that you devastated me.

That’s where I wanted to be when they died. Standing.

That’s all I want.

But I was too much of a coward to talk to you, I mouth to myself, my tears now gone as I draw in a deep breath. Cowards always live to regret, because it’s only too late that they realize the journey is filled with people who are afraid.

They didn’t have to walk alone.

Noah

The chainsaw whirs outside, and I sit up in bed, swinging my legs over the side. I run a hand through my hair. Will he fight me if I don’t want to leave this fucking room today?

Kaleb ditched us and went hunting again yesterday, and Dad’s barely said three words to me in the last forty-eight hours. Fun, fun. It’s like old times again.

I shake my head and stand up, throwing on some jeans before leaving the room. I’m getting out of this house. Out of this town. In the middle of the night like a coward, because I can’t handle confrontation, but I’m leaving. Maybe he’ll realize how fantastic I was once he doesn’t have me to push around anymore. Because he certainly won’t get in Kaleb’s face.

And maybe Kaleb will finally utter a word when I’m not here to do all his talking for him.

I can’t do another winter with them. I’ll go crazy.

Heading downstairs, I walk into the kitchen and go straight for the coffee machine, seeing my dad step in from the shop. I grab a mug and then the pot, seeing it’s empty just as he stops to refill his, too.

I sigh, my headache swelling more.

“Just…” He shoves his cup and stalks away. “Make another pot.”

I cock an eyebrow but do as I’m told. How long has he been up?

He throws a loaf of bread, some bacon he fried up, and a couple boxes of cereal on the table with the milk and butter, and I dump out the used coffee filter, replacing it with a clean one.

Once the coffee grounds are loaded, I fill up the water container and start brewing, grabbing an Oreo from the package sitting on the counter.