Complicated Love

Prologue - An unforgettable departure

Naomi pressed her ears against the door, feeling the pulse of the unfolding drama in the vibrations beneath her palms. Sweaty hands lay flat on the stiff wood, her small fingers tracing the grain as she struggled to control her breathing. The thudding of her heart echoed in her ears, a rapid cadence matching the chaos below. At the tender age of nine, she couldn't grasp the intricacies of the situation, but her insatiable curiosity drew her closer to the tumult downstairs.

Chris, the source of the commotion, stood defiantly, his veins pulsating with anger. His suitcase, filled with all his belongings, hovered at the threshold of a life-altering decision. His mother, Mary, pleaded tearfully, desperation etched on her face. Yet, Chris remained resolute, unmoved by the emotional tides around him.

"You control every aspect of my life, and I'm tired of it. I'm a grown man, and I have every right to live my own life and make my own decisions," Chris barked, the strain in his voice revealing the weight of his decision.

Mary, tear-streaked but steadfast, tried to reason with him. "Chris, do you know how much we love you? We 'control' your life because we love you. We want what's best for you."

Her words collided with the arrogance of Joesph, Chris's father, who dismissed the situation with a wave of his coffee-clasped hand. "Let him do what he wants. We'll all be here waiting for him to come crawling back."

Joesph's bravado masked an undercurrent of anxiety, his trembling hands betraying the dominance he attempted to project. He groaned in irritation as he sipped the cup of coffee that lied in his grasp,his arrogance getting the best of him as he placed his feet on the coffee table. Only keen eyes would see the way his hands shook in anxiety and fear. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead but he wiped it away casually. 'men don't cry' He reminded himself.

Chris threw a disdainful look to his father. He turning to his mother, whose eyes had turned the colour of blood. A pang of guilt momentarily flickered in his heart, but the burning desire for a life beyond the confines of his current existence prevailed.

He desired to live not just exist.

With deliberate steps, he approached Mary, a mixture of affection and regret in his touch. Cupping her face, he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, a silent farewell that stirred Mary's emotions, unlocking a torrent of tears. The weight of their shared history, both joyous and painful, lingered in that tender moment. Slowly, hesitantly he took a step back and lifted his suitcase with unwavering determination.

The front door closed behind him, sealing his departure.

The echoes of Chris's departure reached Naomi's ears as she stepped away from the door. She sensed her brother's absence, the heavy silence leaving an indelible mark on her young heart. She made her way to her bed, laying herself on it with a deep sigh.

She anticipated the impending storm of punishment when he returned, her heart sinking at the thought of her brother enduring their father's wrath. Everytime the leather of her father's belt landed on Chris' behind she felt a stinging pain on her own as if the wrath of her father was being released on her and not Chris. As his cries of pain filled the room, bouncing off the wooden walls she felt the walls of her sanity crack gradually.

She always wondered why he ran away from home it had become a consistent reaccurence, everytime he returned she would be the first to engulf him in a tight hug, wishing him a joyful welcome back just something to let her mind wander away from the punishment he'll be facing from their beast of a father.

Whenever she questioned him on his rebelliousness he would always gaze at her. Eyes filled with self-pity and guilt and the words that would leave his mouth would always leave her baffled. He would look out into the distance his eyes glazed over and he would say "The grass is greener on the other side" then he'll turn to her "Or maybe I'm just grasping straws." With a sheepish smile he would place a lingering kiss on her forehead. "You'll understand when you're older but for now, you can enjoy yourself as the little moppet that you are"

She never understood his words and she never bothered trying to. Being in his embrace was enough satisfaction. He would come back, she reassured herself, and when he did she would be right here waiting for him just like always.

Little did Rachel know, the comforting embrace she longed for would remain an unfulfilled wish. Chris's departure this time carried the weight of finality, an unknowing farewell.

Mary, overcome with grief, crumpled to the floor, grappled with the void left by her son. Her cries echoed through the house, a mournful soundtrack to the shattered dreams of a mother who had seen her family crumble.

Joseph, wrestling with the silence, ascended the stairs. His futile attempt at prayer revealed a father's heartache. Tears, unbidden, traced the contours of his face as he faced the bitter truth-his son, the carrier of the Johnson name, was lost to the unforgiving world outside.

The Johnsons, eyes wide open, dared not surrender to sleep, clinging to the fragile hope that Chris would defy the odds and return home.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the Johnson family grappled with the haunting silence, punctuated only by the crickets' melody.

The night bore witness to the regrets of a father, the silent tears of a grieving sister, and the anguished sobs of a heartbroken mother.

The regrets, unspoken and heavy, hung in the air, a poignant reminder of a family broken and a son lost to the relentless journey of no return.

In the darkness, the hope for Chris's return flickered like a distant star, fading as reality settled in-their family forever altered by a departure without a homecoming.