chapter 2

Chapter 2

The same couch had become his sanctuary as the week dragged on like his regret; neither the warm blanket nor the hot attempt of pancakes his father had tried to provide brought him what he wanted.

Their small conversation consisted of a narrow dive into his head and then a note of how he'd explain it, which he lacked as he spoke fast and repetitively. The room almost seemed to dim as spoke

He was only able to appreciate his father's apparent interest in his problems, the problems he knew he would never get across to his father; somehow he was afraid, and his heart ran at the topic of labeling him in blame.

Ronin's mouth held open before he began to speak, "I just, it's, so loud a-and I can't stop hearing it, and then I'll talk back, b-but it doesn't listen, or it just repeats, and I can't.

I can't stop it"

He finished as he licked his lips began to drip his salivation, as if it were the words he'd just said, he looked up seeking his fathers words, just an attempt would help.

Ronin's eyes grew desolate as he was met with the empty room; not a soul lay around; what he had thought was morning had somehow fled, for it was black outside.

He looked back down at the couch he lay on; his breathing had gotten heavy with the weight that grew on his shoulders, and his eyes flew across the room.

Ronin stood up abruptly, only falling deeper into the voices that taunted him or maybe the illusions, nothing was clear anymore nor could he clean the vision that became tainted with the lies, the questions, the confusion, it all grew too loud, with a short stumble ronin hit his head wincing as if he were unaware he had hit himself, Ronin squinted as he fled the living room escaping to the kitchen his body grew tense.

"What did you do that night"

"Why"

"What were you thinking"

"Your fucking crazy Ronin"

His eyebrows scrunched in a pain he couldn't describe, maybe an anger, he couldn't decide, everything began to overload, they repeated, louder each time.

Ronin urged for some way to let it out, and with a swift movement, he threw the cup that lay upon the counter, watching as it broke against the wall, shattering into a million pieces like the demons that hid in his head.

Each piece reflected him differently, yet in every way he had known, talked to, lived with,

Died with."

Ronin stumbled back clutching to the counter as the sound of its shatter was the only thing left to ring in his worn head, his eyes shifted across the room as his father's fast footsteps rumbled down the stairs, his gun held tightly by his side, upon looking at the scene he turned to Ronin with a stern expression, "what the hell are you doing" his voice matched perfectly with his expression, for that was one thing Ronin could do.

His eyes grew wide as his father entered the kitchen staring at the pieces that covered the floor, his scolding got louder with his distance from Ronin each step seemed to hold a demeanor so high it could only look down at him, grabbing Ronin's loose shirt he dragged him out of the kitchen with a jerk and cuss under his breath, looking back at Ronin whose eyes filled with a pathetic fear, he watched as it slowly flower over, now falling across his flushed cheeks.

"Woah, woah, Ronin what's wrong"

His father's voice grew slower, softer.

He could only see Ronin's lip quiver before he pulled him into an almost forced side hug, now holding the weight that attached to him weakly.

The dark had been abrupted as he sat on his father's bed, the moonlight lit the room in a dim hue, yet it was brighter than any other room in the house; it was warmer in a way.

"I'm sorry," Ronin stated blankly, glancing back at his father,r, who sat up at his voice, "I know," he said with a strange look, a confused yet curious nature.

Ronin slid into the bed covering his legs in the warm blanket that complemented the rest of the bed, "you know Ronin, you kinda freak me out sometimes" his father's voice was rough like his messy eyebrows that scrunched above his expression, "I know" Ronin responded loudly, as if his tone hit a flat.

Pretending not to hear it, his father shuffled in the bed, adjusting his pillow. He lay with a short sigh.

To which Ronin followed, craving the sleep he abandoned, for maybe tomorrow would come better than today.

.