Page 63 of Filtration Play
“You keep this up, both you and Mom are heading for an early grave,” Fin said, their chest heavy, as if a rock sat squarely on it.
“That a threat?” he rasped out and slowly got to his feet, his legs wobbling.
Disgust flooded them. At how afraid they’d been of this man, who was older and feeble, only capable of hurting those weaker than him. “Nah,” Fin said, starting to inch away. “Just a premonition.”
Their dad spat at them, but they were too far for the spittle to reach them. He backed toward his car, those eyes narrowed and hateful. Fucking good. Fin’s chest cracked open, a mess of emotions pouring out. Yet they also continued to back away, their hands balled into fists, their shoulders tensed.
No more Mom.
They should’ve been relieved. They’d been saying they needed to cut the cord for years, needed to pull themself away from the toxic situation.
However, choosing and getting the choice taken from you were two different things.
The grief clawed at their chest as the reality settled in. As their father got in the car and drove away. He exited the parking lot, and Fin knew deep in their marrow the next time they’d see him was his funeral.
They wouldn’t see their parents anymore. The knowledge stole the breath from them. Fin made it to their car and sagged into the seat. For a few moments, they sat there, blankly staring at the steering wheel.
Fuck.
Their cheek throbbed, and they rested their palm over it, the ache intense, the pain zinging through them. It mirrored their insides, mangled and ruined. Their stomach roiled, their whole body tensedas if they awaited another blow. Their eyes ached as if the tears wanted to emerge, but they refused to come. Their chest kept spasming to the point they wondered if they’d ignored the warning signs of a heart attack.
They needed to get away from this hellhole diner. Away from their former life.
Fin shot off a text to Meg and Micah. There was no way they’d make it into work today.
Currently vomiting my guts out. Caught a stomach bug.
Not like they’d tell them what went down either. Not while the situation burned raw like this. But if they showed up, Meg would clock what was guaranteed to be a spectacular shiner in minutes. And then she’d come at them with their Care Bear concern. They couldn’t handle that.
The drive home was a blur.
They weren’t sure how they’d made it, but one second, they stood in the parking lot of Eagle Diner, and the next, they slid into a spot by their apartment. The out-of-body feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to them, but it was one they hadn’t dealt with in a long, long while. Not since they lived under their father’s roof and he’d gone on his rampages.
Except this time when he hit them, they’d put him on the ground.
Fin held on to that with all their might. As if that flimsy truth would stave off the shakes that threatened to overtake them. The agony of knowing they’d lost their parents piece by piece over the years until they were gone. Mom had chosen her fate, and they couldn’t do anything about it. They’d tried and tried, even to their own detriment, but the time of wishing, hoping they could save her had come to an end.
They slogged up the steps to their place, and when they opened the door, they didn’t bother turning on the lights. They floatedtoward their room and collapsed onto their bed. Fin’s phone buzzed. They should check that, but they couldn’t. Fuck, they should get ice for their cheek, but all they could manage was lying on top of their comforter, trying to soak up the slightest bit of softness.
As if they weren’t all broken glass and shattered edges.
Gone. Both of their parents were gone from their lives. Whether Mom had confessed or got found out, they had no idea. Either way, that ship had sailed.
As long as she stayed with their father, there was nothing they could do to help.
Not any longer.
Fin curled in on themself, pressing their balled hands against their chest as if that might relieve the ache there.
They didn’t know how long they’d stayed that way, but they must’ve drifted off. When they woke, their whole body ached. A glance at the neon numbers on their clock told them hours had passed. It was the afternoon.
Fin extricated themself from the bed, stretching their arms and legs, which had locked up. They needed to address their face. Their cheek ached something fierce, and they hadn’t even looked in a mirror yet to assess the damage.
Slowly they trudged out to their kitchen.
A knock sounded at the door.
Their shoulders locked up again.
