Lost In The Fray

Fifty

Milo

The tears start the moment I'm through the front door as if the safe confines of home allow me not to have to stay strong anymore.

I fought them the whole way home, gripping the steering wheel until my hands cramped. But bit by bit, the anger seeped away until I was left raw and vulnerable, weak against the emotions Nia's choice has exposed.

I thought I'd felt sadness and frustration before, but I realise now that wasn't real. Not like this is. I feel like someone has ripped my heart out with their bare hands.

I should've said more to her. I should've fought her. I should've done everything I could to make her see she's wrong.

I should've told her I love her.

I wipe vigorously at the moisture on my cheeks, not remembering the last time I cried.

I've always been angry at someone or something to overpower the pain. I've always had to stay strong for Katy or Mum. Never stopped to think about how I'm feeling, but this is unavoidable.

I don't have that anger as a tool anymore, and I'm unable to hold back the pain or the tears. I haven't been angry since having Nia in my life. Not like I used to be.

And I can't be angry at her. I understand her choices. I knew this was how she felt months ago. I was stupid enough to think that might have changed.

"Baby?"

I don't have time to look up at Mum before her arms pull my face into her neck. I cling to her, needing her. A sob ripples through me, and I sniffle back my tears.

"It's okay, baby. Crying is healing." Mum runs a hand up and down my spine, soothing me. She pulls me into the living room, and I sink onto the sofa beside her. She tucks me into her chest, and I cling to her like a child.

It seems like my entire body is full of tears, having built up over years, and there's nothing I can do to stop them from emptying out.

Mum whispers soft words to me, telling me she's got me, that I'm going to be okay. Her fingers run through my hair in a soothing way she used to do when I was young. Jasmine still clings to her.

But none of these things is helping like I would expect them to.

"Milo." I lift my face as Katy steps into the room. I straighten as, without a word, she climbs into my lap, resting her knees on either side of my thighs. She presses Larry to my chest, and I instinctively lift a hand to hold him there. Katy pulls the sleeves of her pyjamas over her hands to wipe at my cheeks.

"It's okay, princess," she tells me before kissing my nose.

"I'm a princess, am I?" I cough into my shoulder to clear my throat.

Katy gives me a single, over dramatically proud nod. "And I am your prince. I'm going to save you."

My mum giggles beside me, and I narrow my eyes at Katy's wording.

"I didn't raise you with these stereotypical gender roles."

Mum stops giggling. Being the one who taught me the importance of gender equality, her reaction is probably because I've reminded her I was the one to raise Katy. But I don't turn to find out. I don't have anything left in me to help her tonight.

"Princesses aren't always the ones who need saving," I tell Katy. However, I'm unsure whether to praise her for assigning roles to opposite genders. While I'm still contemplating this, she points in my face.

"Fine. You be a narwhal, and I'll be a butterfly."

Accepting my fate, I don't question this logic. "How are you going to save me?"