The Support Group ✖ BajanCanadian [COMPLETED]

six : decision makers

Chapter Six - "Decision Makers"

Tyler left once he heard my dad slam the front door shut. Well, he nearly jumped out my window in pure fear. He didn't know my father personally, therefore Dad would probably beat him into the ground. I picked up the pillows Tyler used to sleep on, adjusting them neatly back on my bed. I heard a soft knock come from my doorway. I turned around to face Dad.

"Oh...hey." I smiled weakly.

"Hey, I'm, uh, sorry I bailed like that...I know you probably needed somebody." I had Tyler, but it wasn't quite the same. He's the group's weak link. Not as weak as me emotionally, psychically yes.

"It's fine." I lied.

I hid my pills in the top cabinet, where he never checks twice. He's probably glanced at it more than one time and figured it was an old anti-depressant of mine.

I remember the day he told me Mom was gone. I never knew how she died until depression caught up with me. He sat me down in the living room, tears billowing in his eyes, and he told me. He told me he found Mom sprawled across the bathroom floor while I was at school one day, her wrists sliced open, blood everywhere. He always thought depression ran in the family, but for some strange reason I think I always knew there was something wrong with her.

Her very own fatal attraction; herself.

She was a beautiful woman, I knew that much. Her dark brown hair fell in waves down to her elbows, her blue eyes so chilling yet stunning. But genetics thought otherwise for my fate, leaving me with brown eyes like my dad.

Everyone compares me to her. Everyone that's at least taken a glimpse at her, then me, would smile widely.

They didn't even know we had more in common than what met the eye.

"I'm okay, Dad. You don't need to worry about me." I repeated, faking a smile.

He's played this game before though, he can see right through me. Which is surprising, since I've been vulnerable for three years now. I guess the mourning fogs up common senses. I'm proud of him still. He's finally getting back on his feet, when I'm far from recovery.

"Just know I'm always here." He assured me.

"Yeah, I know." I nodded. "...Aye, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Um...do you think I should move out?"

"Isn't that for you to decide?"

I looked down at my hands. "I just wanted someone else's input."

"Then, maybe."

"Maybe?" I frowned.