dinner || tronnor

20

Dedicated to Maddie, Diamond and Miggy.

connor's pov

I'm really scared. And I hate to admit that, but the feeling is consuming me. Every positive thought I can come up with is ruined.

At least he cares enough to do something about it? My mind tries to convince me.

But his feelings won't last forever. Once he finally realizes how fucked up you are everything will change. And what will you do then?

I feel like screaming to drown out my thoughts but I decide against it because I am in public, after all.

The walk to my apartment seems to be too quick, not enough time to analyze all my ideas and fears. I know that whatever may happen tonight with my father will only make things worse. It will fail and he will blame me and my mother. She's already fallen to pieces as it is.

I know what will be awaiting me when I get home. The police will probably already be there and my father will be chasing them away. My mom will be hiding, crying in the bathroom wishing that she had never met my dad or regretting that she didn't get away. I think know exactly what I'll see when I walk up our apartment.

But none of it is there. I walk up the stairs with the thought that it will take longer to get there than it would if I took the elevator, but soon I find that to be irrelevant. The door is closed, looking calm as ever and it for some reason it fills me with anger. Why does it get to be so perfectly at ease? Can't we trade places?

I stare at the door for an unreasonable amount of time. Then, I finally take my keys out of my pocket and insert them into the hole, hoping not to make too much noise while I push the door open. I peek my head in and check for anyone. When no one is there I slip inside and speed walk to my door-less bedroom, grab my phone charger and a bottle of water and lock myself in the bathroom. I don't want to be around when it happens.

I decide to wait in there for a long time, maybe an hour, before I hear the door open and my fathers heavy feet on the wooden floors.

"Connor!" he yells, "Make me some dinner!" And the sound of his voice unravels all of my previous bravery. I unlock the door and slip my phone into my pocket then walk to the kitchen on shaky legs.

"Yes sir," I replied, keeping my eyes down as I peer into the dishwasher to get a pan. As I reach down I feel the harsh whipping of a dish towel thrashed against my back and curse to myself. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him...

He leaves the kitchen then and I straighten up, putting the pan on the stove and turning on the flame. My cullinary skills really helped with keeping my father happy over the years. I always found that a man is less likely to strangle your throat if you feed him well.

Just as I ease myself into the food, putting all my anger into this chicken breast, I hear a calm and firm knock on the door. Shit, I think to myself. My hands start to shake as I walk to the door and lift up my heels to look out the peep hole.

Troye and two police officers stand outside my door. One looked calm and the other seemed annoyed as if he was trying to get Troye to back off or wait downstairs.

I take a deep breath, hold it, and let it out along with my nerves. Maybe this time will be different.

I open the door and make eye contact with Troye immediately. He looked scared yet hopefull and gave me a determined nod as if saying you can do this. Yeah right.

"Is your father home, son?" The calmer officer asked me. All the sudden I feel heavy steps coming towards my direction and knew I wouldn't have to answer.

"Who the fuck is at the door?" And then he was behind me and I felt his increasingly heavy breath on my neck.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" My father asks with a sickeningly crooked grin.

"We have been informed by CPS that there has been some unusual behavior in your residence. Can you tell me anything about that?"

"No, sir. We are the happiest family on the block!"

At this point my body is in lockdown shaking and trembling with every word he says. I stare at the wall and bite my lip until I taste blood.

The elevator opens then, revealing my mother carrying shopping bags in each hand. Her face pales immediately when she looks up at the sittuation before her. My dad beckons her over with a smile.

As soon as she makes her way into the doorway my father snaps her arm back, making her drop all the groceries, and holds her against his body while he pulls a gun out of his pants and holds it to her jaw. She gasps and tears run out her eyes and I am frozen.

I've always felt frozen but this is nothing like I've ever felt before. He could end her life right now, his drunken state taking away everything she's every worked for and all she's ever done for herself. My heart beats a million times per minute. Troye lets out an awful gasp and yells at the officer to do something as he aims his gun at my father.

"Leave my fucking family alone!" He screams, my ears cringing and his saliva flying everywhere. "Leave here or I'll shoot her!"

My feet wobble and I think I'm about to fall down when suddenly I catch myself over a trip and run to the kitchen looking for anything that could help me in this sittuation. It feels like slow motion and my head is screaming at me. My dad is yelling something but I don't hear it.

I look over to the stove seeing the blue flames and the pan on top. I grab it.

My mother lets out an awful screech as my dad pushes the barrel deeper into her skin. I sneak up behind him and see neighbors watching cautiously out of their doors. Don't watch, I tell them with my mind. Please.

My father yells one last thing before I swing my arms up and let them take away his consciousness with a frying pan.

"I'm the only one that will ever love these two!" He screams out and my rage blazes higher.

"You never loved me!" I scream and crash the hot pan into his skull and watch him sink to the floor, my mother falling to the side, being caught by one of the police officers. My vision is blurred and I back away lightly. I feel the need to sit down and pass out immediately.

I hear my mothers cries, Troye saying my name and the police officer calling me son as if he was my father.

The last thing I think of before the world goes black is what my life would be like if he was.

A. N.

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