The Illusion of Us

Chapter 1

"Help me?" He furrowed his brows, a small ingenuine smile dancing across his lips, now tensely pursed together into a fine line. "Is that what you call whatever the hell it is you've been doing?"

"Making sure you have a roof over your head and a hot meal every day?" Brigit exclaimed. The softness that usually characterized her voice was slowly fading away with each word that fell from her lips, instead replaced by a fiery anger that Khalil found himself unfamiliar with.

"Making sure that you aren't dead on the streets? Yeah, I would call that helping."

Brigit finished with a final humph, the whites of her knuckles shining under the fluorescent street lights they rhythmically rolled under. However, as soon as those last foreign words had escaped her lips, charging the air with dangerous voltage, a shadow of guilt drifted over her features and her voice immediately returned to the soft tone it always took.

"I-I'm sorry." she stuttered out apologetically.

"I-I just want to make sure that you're okay." Though her voice was quiet again, it still held an air of authority. After a few beats of passing silence in which only the sound of the engine of the car and their intermingled breaths could be heard, Khalil finally spoke once more.

"I'm fine Bri!" He lied easily.

"I'm fine" he concluded once more, this time turning in his seat to look at her, hoping the obvious anger still plaguing his features would drive her to silence.

"I don't need you to 'therapize me,' I don't need you to pity me."

Brigit opened her mouth to rebuttal, and seeing her apprehension Khalil pushed on.

"And I certainly don't need you to take care of me! I'm fine!" He practically yelled the last part, his voice rising exponentially, echoing through the small car.

Silence rang through the carter again, but only for a moment this time before Brigit gathered the courage to speak again, Khalil's outburst having no effect on her. She was used to his mood swings, and his resentful demeanor towards anyone who tried to show him any kind of affection. Yet, she was still determined to attempt to guide him, even if everything she said went in one ear and out the other.

"If you were fine-" She paused, taking an audible breath and Khalil could practically see the tension building inside her body, inside her hands on the steering wheel, which seemed to grow even tighter if possible.

"I wouldn't have found you on the streets away from your family."

"Those people weren't my family." Khalil replied matter-of-factly, all within one single breath without missing a beat.

"They could have been." Brigit offered and, for the first time, his smile fell at the weight of Brigit's words. He wanted to believe her, to believe that her words held an inkling of truth, but he had never been an idealist and it seemed far too late to attempt to adopt those ideals now.

"They could have been your way out, but instead you ran. Again."

"You and I both know that I have no way out." Khalil's hands had become fists in his lap, and his once shallow breathing had become erratic, his chest rising and falling chaotically. He was tired of having the same conversation over and over again, and he was tired of everyone holding onto false hope that didn't exist. His future had already been written for him and, spoiler alert, it wasn't comprised of a happy ending.

"Nobody wants a teenager, and as soon as I turn 18 in a couple of months I'll be back on the streets like I was before. You can't save me. No one can." Khalil muttered this last part under his breath, but if Brigit had heard him she had done a good job pretending she hadn't.