Simply Breathtaking

CHAPTER THREE

Her Sister Pamela, His Mother Sorcha

" It doesn't look that bad, does it?"

Lightly touching her cheek, Charles was busy examining a bruise. He noticed it when he came to class that morning. Tiffany had looked up from her notebook to greet him, obviously forgetting the festering blemish that stained her cheek. It caught him off guard. After lunch, he immediately grabbed Tiffany's hand and led her to their now usual spot: the old jungle gym.

He turned her head to the side to get a better look. " It's pretty bad, Tiffany." He added a small bit of pressure. The dark blue color of her injured skin deepened under his touch. Whatever happened probably happened right before school. " Your sister?" he asked. This was a recurring theme with his new friend. Almost every time they met up, there would be a new mark on her, and her sister was always the culprit. He tried to get her to talk about it many times, but she wouldn't budge. The most she revealed about her sister was that her name was Pamela.

She winced before nodding. He turned her head back to its original position. His eyes locked with hers. If her face wasn't being held in Charles's fingers, she'd shrink under his gaze. His stone, cold stare was nothing but intimidating.

" Tiffany, how long have we been friends?" He asked, his hands now in his lap.

Fidgeting with her hair, she stumbled over her words.

"...A-A few weeks I think. "

"Now, I'm not used to this kind of thing, but aren't friends supposed to tell each other when something's wrong. I mean...you can't keep meeting up with me with all these cuts and bruises and expect me to keep my mouth shut."

She didn't respond.

He felt bad for pushing her like this, but he was tired of seeing her hurt everyday and not getting an explanation. She was always so eager to aid him despite his protests. Always eager to be let in. And here he was trying to return the favor. Trying to get her to open the door, but she has a vice grip on the doorknob.

C'mon Tiffany." he begged.

Again, she didn't respond.

He let out a sigh and slouched against the metal bars.

'I have to get her to talk.' he thought to himself with his arms folded across his chest. ' I just gotta think of something.'

He gripped his knees, pushed himself from his spot, and sat next to her. Awkwardly wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close. Close enough for her to rest her head on his shoulder.

With his temple resting atop her head, he took a deep breath. " Listen..." He gave her a small squeeze. " You don't have to tell me everything."

" But I have to tell you something?" Tiffany finished.

He nodded. " So here's what we're gonna do."

Tiffany's deep brown eyes peeked from under her bangs.

" You can ask me anything you want..." He glanced down at her. " And I'll answer it. At any time. No matter the circumstances."

She sat up.

" Anything?"

" Anything. Call it a compromise."

Judging by that vibrant look in her eye, he got her. Hook, Line, and Sinker. If he could, he'd give himself a pat on the back.

Tiffany opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. " But!" He held up a finger then pressed it to her forehead, causing her to flinch. " You have to tell me about your sister. No take backs." He used a bit of force to push her head back. The ghost of a smirk came through as he saw his friend's jutting bottom lip.

" I guess that's fair." She said, rubbing her forehead. " And by anything, you mean ANYTHING?"

He let out a snort." Hehe yeah sure. Whatever you want." he replied, amused.

He grabbed her chin.

" Now tell me."

She shook her face from his grip. Her lips spread into a straight line as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "...okay."

" Pamela and me don't really have a good relationship. " She started. "She yells at me. Calls me names. She hits me." Her eyebrows scrunched together in what seemed to be annoyance as she ran a hand down her bruised cheek. " But...but I don't know why. She hates me for some reason, but she won't tell me why. I don't know. I-I must've done something. It can't be for no reason." Her speech sped up as her annoyance grew.

Charles scratched the back of his neck. He can understand what Tiffany was going through. Sure, he didn't have any siblings, but he did have a father who seemed to hate him as much as Pamela hated Tiffany. He would stay up at night, wondering to himself if his father had a legitimate reason for doing the things he did. He believed it. But Tiffany? What could Tiffany have done to deserve constant abuse from her sister's hand? This was something he questioned in his mind ever since the start of their friendship.

" You ever thought about telling your mom? "

" I can't talk to my mother." She replied almost frantic like. " I mean...I TRIED to tell her, but she didn't believe me. She said I was exaggerating and that fighting is just a normal sibling thing. 'Friends come and go, Sisters are forever.'" she answered , shaking her head.

" Well, what about your dad?" He asked.

He watched her fingers pick at the stray thread of her dress " I haven't seen or talked to my dad since my mom moved us here after my ninth birthday."

" And when was that?"

"...six months ago."

Charles's entire demeanor softened. His throat tightened.

"...Do you miss him?" Charles asked.

" A lot."

" I'm sorry 'bout your dad." Obviously, he couldn't relate. But knowing she had someone who cared for her forced out of her life made him feel bad.

" It's okay." She glumly responded. " I learned to live with it."

'But you shouldn't have to.' He nodded, deciding to keep the comment to himself. They sat together in silence. Shoulder to shoulder. Just looking forward, watching the other kids play from the safety of the jungle gym. If there was nothing to say to each other, there was only silence. The only thing that could be heard was their breathing, almost in synch, over the muffled sounds of their peers clowning around on the playground.

" I thought my sister liked him too...our dad." Tiffany faced Charles's profile, breaking the silence. " I used to think that us leaving him was the reason she was so mean to me. That she was taking it out on me to make herself feel better about it."

" But that's not it?" They were now facing each other.

" No."

" How?"

She turned back to the kids." Because she told me. She hated our dad just as much as she hates me. The reason why is what she won't tell me." She leaned forward, placed her elbow on her knee, and rested her cheek in her palm. " It's always like this. She always says WHAT she does, but never WHY she does it...and I HATE it. Like, what's the point?!"

" I mean what's wrong with me? What was wrong with him?" Her head dropped, she ran her hand through her hair. She turned away from him and rubbed her eyes. " I try my best to be a good sister, ya know? I try my best to not get on her bad side, but everything I do sets her off."

Little teardrops dripped from her eyes, leaving a splattered pattern on her skirt.

He reached out to her. " Ya know..." He place his index finger under her chin and turned her head to look at him. He raised her chin until they had complete eye contact. He passed her a somewhat empathizing smile. " Even though you're pushy, nosy, and your constant rambling and talking grates on my nerves something fierce... "

Tiffany glared in slight offense.

" Hold on I'm not done." He pressed a finger to her lips before she could say anything. " And despite all that, in my opinion, I think you're pretty alright. And remember, I hate people. So whenever your sister got something to say, just think in your head 'Hey at least the creepy kid at my school likes me.' And if that doesn't work...I don't know what else to fuckin' tell ya."

Tiffany laughed, shaking her head. " Charles Ray, you are something else."

He smiled and shrugged." I'll take that as a compliment."

Tiffany opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but was cut off by the shrill sound of the bell.

DRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

Without saying a word, he grabbed her hand, just like he always did, and led her to the cafeteria entrance where their peers huddled together. Once the doors opened, everyone went inside for their last subject of the day.

It was time for dismissal. The entire student body were outside waiting for the busses to arrive so they could go home. Charles's bus hadn't arrived yet so he just stood there rocking on the heels of his tennis shoes. He looked around, wondering to himself if Tiffany had already caught her bus. Craning his neck as he tried his best to see over the other kids, he finally caught a glimpse of Tiffany's mop of dark brown hair. She was standing near one of the pillars. Her arms were folded and her face was held in solace. The look on her face made him want to go over there to see if she was okay.

He took a step to her direction, but halted at the sight of someone taller than both Tiffany and himself. Judging by her resemblance to Tiffany, that had to be Pamela. Her dark brown, nearly black, eyes matched her sour expression. She slightly bent herself to Tiffany's level. He was too far away to hear anything being said, but by the look of Tiffany's expression getting grimmer by the second, Charles could tell that Pamela wasn't saying anything good.

Before he could do or say anything, Pamela roughly grabbed Tiffany by the arm and started to drag her away from the crowd. Curious and also concerned, he followed them.

Charles found himself near the back of the school. He took a few more steps.

" Okay, Tiffany."

He pressed his back to the wall and slowly peaked around the corner.

With her arms folded, Pamela was towering over Tiffany.

She unfolded her arms and stretched one out to her.

" Hand it over."

Tiffany looked up, confused. " Hand what over?"

Tiffany watched her older sister's face twist into a scowl. " My pink flower-child wide-dress headband. I know you took it!"

" But I didn't take it." She took a step back.

Pamela grabbed Tiffany's face with great force and pushed her into the wall. Charles jumped, forcing himself back. He wanted to help. He really did. But what could he do? Her sister was much bigger than him and possibly could be stronger too. If he tried to intervene, it would most likely end bad for both of them.

Once Tiffany's back hit the wall, Pamela grabbed her by the collar." Don't you fucking lie to me!"

" I didn't take it! Pammy, believe me!"

" THEN WHAT HAPPENED TO IT?!"

" I DON'T KNOW!" She sobbed.

" TIFFANY, TELL ME!"

" I SWEAR TO GOD I DIDN'T TAKE IT!"

Fed up, Pamela threw Tiffany to the ground.

" Whatever." she sneered, turning her back on her. She walked over to the bike rack, unlocked the chain, and hopped onto her own bike.

Tiffany sat up. " W...Where are you going?"

" Friend's house."

" Y-you're not gonna take me home?" She scrambled to her feet. " You're supposed to take me home!" She quickly made her way to Pamela who was already hiking up the kickstand.

" You can ride the bus."

" But mom said she doesn't want us riding the buses."

" Oh well. You got feet." She placed her foot on one of the peddles. " Walk."

" Bu-But you can't just leave me!" Tiffany shouted. She grabbed Pamela's shoulder. " Pammy!"

" Get your hand off me!" Her fingers crushed Tiffany's in a vice grip. Tiffany cried out. Charles watched her knees buckle in reaction to the ache. Her legs shook as she struggled to stay upright. Her eyes welled up with tears.

" But mom sa-"

" I DON'T CARE WHAT MOM SAID!" Pamela screeched, using all her strength in one hand to push Tiffany away. She fell back and landed on the hard concrete. Pamela, completely unfazed by her younger sister's crying and pain-stricken expression, began to ride away.

" Mom's going out with her new boyfriend so she's either coming home late or not at all. You got enough time to get there. Keys under the ficus." She paused. " And my headband better be on my dresser when I get home."

She turned her head just a bit. Tiffany could see the malice glow in her sister's dark eyes.

" Or else."

Then she was gone.

Tiffany let out a long sigh as she watched her sister leave. She tried her best to sit up but stopped herself once a streak of pain shot through her arm. She hissed, grabbing the injured limb. The fall gave her a long abrasion from the back of her hand to the beginning of her elbow. She cursed to herself as she examined it. Hearing footsteps, she glanced up from her wound.

Charles placed his hands in his pockets once he got close enough. " Wow...all that over a headband. " He grabbed her uninjured arm and helped her up. " And I thought YOU were dramatic."

" Shut up." Tiffany pouted. "...You saw all that?"

" Yeeup. Every second of it." He answered simply. Leaving it at that, Charles clasped their hands together and began pulling her away towards the front of the school. " Let's go. I'll take you home."

" How are you gonna do that?" she asked. Charles turned to her.

" You're gonna ride the bus with me to my house." He pointed a thumb in the direction of the buses. Then he pointed to her." I'm gonna patch you up." Then gestured to himself." Then I'm gonna take you home on my bike."

" But what about your parents?" She was worried and she had every right to be. She had asked about his parents when he came to school one day with a bandaged bruise under his eye, but he was adamant on keeping his mouth shut. Though she was annoyed he wouldn't say anything, she took his word(or lack of a word)for it.

" Don't worry." Charles reassured." My dad's never home on the weekends and my mom works night shifts. So the house'll be completely empty."

"hmmmm." Tiffany eyed the slowly arriving buses and hummed nervously. " B-but my mom said..."

" Tiffany." He grabbed her shoulders. " Would you rather walk all the way home by yourself which I would like to add is very fucking dangerous and will take a super long time with your tiny little legs or come with me, your best and only friend, and let me take you home? "

" I'm taller than you." She glowered, obviously insulted by the leg comment.

Charles let out a chuckle, " And my legs are still longer than yours. How tragic." He joked, pulling her towards the buses. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she rolled her eyes accompanied by a slowly growing smile, and followed him.

" Wait! Wait! Wait!" Charles shouted as he chased down the bus. Fortunately for him, the bus driver took pity on the tiny boy and stopped for him, making the bus come to a screeching halt.

Charles ran up to the entrance, panting. " Th...Thank you!" The bus driver gave him a nod.

" You're lucky I saw you, Ray. If I didn't, you'd be walking right now." She called from her seat.

" Yeah I know." He said, pulling Tiffany closer towards the bus steps. " Is it okay if my friend rides the bus?" He asked her. He gave her the most pleading gaze he could muster. Nonchalant, his bus driver gestured for them both to hop on.

" It won't take money from my paycheck. Get in." She smiled.

Grateful, the kids quickly entered the bus. Charles led Tiffany to his usual seat. As they shuffled their ways to it, he could see a few kids whisper to their seat-mates about this strange site. Charles Ray? With a friend? And that friend is a girl? They couldn't believe it. The boy tried his best to ignore it as he scooted into the raggedy seat with Tiffany scooting in alongside him.

Tiffany looked around. " So this's what a school bus is like."

Charles shifted his gaze from the changing scenery outside the window to her. " What, you've never been on a bus before?"

She shook her head. " Nope. My mom hates school buses. She thinks their dirty and I'll catch a disease."

Charles let out a snort. " I hate to say it, but your mom ain't wrong. I mean, lookit this thing!" He lifted his hand to gesture at their surroundings. He wasn't wrong. The bus was a heap of shit. It was old, rickety, and the paint job has been making a steady transition from a bright, sunny yellow to the remnants of a crusty mustard stain back since 1942.

Tiffany couldn't disagree. " Yeah, it is pretty grody." She said as she cringed at the sticky floor. The heel of her maryjane got stuck to some type of gunk that was there. She tried her best to pull her foot from the muck, but she just couldn't get it.

Noticing this, Charles leaned down to help her. Gripping her ankle with one hand and lightly but firmly lifting her heel with the other, he managed to get her foot free. " Grody is an understatement." he grinned. He leaned his head back, letting it hit the seat's leather hide. He lazily turned his head in her direction as he felt the bus stop to drop someone off. " Hey."

" Yeah?" Tiffany looked up from her lap.

" Where do you live, exactly? I can't bring you home if I don't know where to go." It wouldn't be wise for two fourth graders to get lost in Charles's neighborhood.

She popped up with an " Oh!" remembering he was taking her home. " I live on Cathedral Boulevard."

His eyes slightly widened. " You live on the good side?" His neighborhood was so big that the different parts of it seemed like they were their own separate neighborhoods. Cathedral Boulevard was in what he considered the "nice" side of the neighborhood hence why he called it the good side.

" The good side?" Tiffany tilted her head. " That's what you call it?" Feeling a laugh crawl up her throat, she tried her best to keep her mouth closed.

" Well...it's good if I compare it to everything else. The entire neighborhood is heaping mound of shit. It's like comparing a meth head to a crack head. One is worse than the other, but they're both bad all together."

Tiffany laughed harder, covering her mouth to muffle it when she noticed kids peering at her from their seats. Charles's serious yet also joking demeanor never failed to amuse her. Watching her try to control her laughter as he leaned against the window, he quietly laughed along with her.

The tiny pebbles crunched under the children's feet as they made their way up the gravel driveway to Charles's home. Tiffany eyed the quaint two story home in slight wonder. The way Charles used to describe it, she had the idea that it was a frumpy old shack in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't the best looking home, but she thought it was quite charming. With the giant oak tree sitting in the front and the junk pile on the other side, it was, in her opinion, pleasing to the eye.

" I like it." She said, following him up the porch. She waited behind him as he pulled his house key from his back pocket. He peeked at her from over his shoulder with a raised brow and cracked a questioning smile before unlocking the front door.

He signaled for Tiffany to follow him inside.

Just like Charles said, no one was home. The only indication that someone was recently there was the cold almost empty beer bottle that sat on the kitchen counter. " My dad just left I can tell." Charles said, pouring the leftover contents into the sink and throwing the bottle away. He started to walk up the stairs.

" Wait. Where are you going?" Tiffany asked. Even though this was her friend's home, she still was nervous about being left alone. Charles disappeared from the foyer.

" I'm just getting my first aid kit and some other stuff!" He called, already turning the corner. " Just make yourself comfy, I'll be back in a jiff!"

"...Okay!" she hollered back. She sauntered over to the sofa and sat down. She ran her fingertips down the white doilies that adorned the couch's arm.

Nice.

She took a look around. It wasn't that bad. It just looked like a normal house. Maybe it was because no one was home. Maybe the only time the house was the way Charles described was when everyone was in it. She let out a long hum before spotting a few framed pictures above the dinner table behind her. One that really caught her attention was the largest one. It was a big painted portrait of Charles and two other people that Tiffany assumed were his parents. She could tell that Charles got most of his looks from his father taking into account their similar icy orbs and sharp facial features, but at the same time still shared some resemblance to his mother with their identical shade of russet brown hair and round expressive eyes.

She took a closer look at Charles's mother. In each picture on the wall, she had a faraway look in her eye. It was even more evident in the larger portrait. Her face had a sullen look to it. Her lips were set in an almost permanent partial frown. It was the look of a feeling Tiffany knew she felt before but couldn't describe. A look also seen adorning Charles's face whilst deep in thought.

" Hey."

She turned around. Charles was back with the first aid kit stacked on top of what looked like a large envelope.

" I found it." He sat the kit down on the sofa, revealing the other item in his hands: a record sleeve.

On the cover were five well dressed men. " The Animals" written in bold, attractive lettering sat above them.

'Number one hit single 'The House of the Rising Sun'.' written under them.

" The Animals?" Tiffany questioned as she watched her friend walk to the large cupboard across the room. After rummaging through it, he pulled out a record player.

" Yeah." He grunted. The weight irritated his arms as he carried it to the coffee table. He carefully sat it down and plugged it into the outlet closest to it." They're one of my favorite bands. I listen to this song to help me relax sometimes. It's my dad's so I only use it when I know he isn't coming home." He carefully lifted the needle and unsheathed the record. He placed it on the turntable and lowered the needle onto it. The record rotated, the needle slightly scratched the vinyl surface, and music began to play throughout the home.

He took a seat next to Tiffany who was patiently waiting for him and rolled up his sleeves. " Lemme see what we got here." He gently grabbed her arm and turned it over. The skin had already started the healing process. Flecks of scabs were in random spots along her arm, but around the scabs were little bits of yellow. Early signs of infection.

He instructed her to keep her arm up as he opened the first aid kid and took out a bottle of peroxide, some cotton swabs and bandages. " This is gonna burn." He dipped a cotton swab into the peroxide and started to lightly dab it onto the wound, starting at the bottom and making his way to the top. Tiffany tried her best to not react to the pain, looking to other parts of the room to keep her mind off of the searing discomfort. In one of the corners of the room, she noticed something covered in a black tarp.

She looked at Charles who was now finishing wrapping up her arm, humming along to the music.

" What's that?" she asked him.

He stopped humming. " What's what?"

She used her free hand to point to the object in question. " That over there."

Without lifting his head, his gaze shifted from Tiffany's arm to what she was pointing at. " Under the tarp? That's a piano." He answered quickly. He lifted her arm and turned it over a few times, making sure the bandage was secure.

"...can I see it?" she asked, hoping that her friend would be willing to let her. His almost deadpan expression changed to a look of uncertainty. For some reason, a wave of nervousness washed over him. He didn't know why he felt it, but he did. What could go wrong with showing her the piano? " hmmmm..."

"...Sure." he sighed.

He got up and went over to the record player and lifted the needle, cutting the music off mid song, and slipped the record back into its cover.

Letting out a quiet ' yay', Tiffany followed him.

Cackling a bit at Tiffany's "excitement", he grabbed the edge of the tarp and pulled, revealing a large grande piano. The white and black of the keys reflected beautifully off the rich mahogany. The pedals glistened gold. It was gorgeous.

" Wow." she whispered, running a hand along the wood. " Who's it for?"

" Me." he answered simply. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

" So you know how to play?" Tiffany asked.

He gave her a nod.

She shuffled her feet whilst adorning a look of hesitancy. " Would you mind...playing something for me?" She held her hands behind her back. " I..if you don't want to, that's fine."

" Nah it's cool. It's my practice time anyway." He reassured, sitting down on the bench. " And we still got PLENTY of time to get you home."

He patted the spot next to him. The spot was immediately taken by Tiffany, who was very eager to see what her friend could do.

He sat there, contemplating on what to play. His fingers lightly resting on the keys. He wanted to do something good, but not something that he'd fuck up in the first few keys, forcing him to start all over. But nothing came to mind.

'Guess I'm gonna have to wing it.' Finally pressing down on the keys, he began to play the first note.

Then the next.

Then the next.

And soon the sound of the piano replaced the silence that sat between them moments ago. She watched in awe as his left and right hand worked together to create one coherent sound. The song was mostly slow paced but had parts where he had to play a little faster and then slow back down. She looked up from the keys to look at Charles. To her surprise, he was completely engulfed in the music. His eyes were closed and his face was the calmest she'd ever seen it.

Then all of a sudden.

he stopped.

His hands pressed down on the keys, holding them there, prolonging the chord until it died down. He was pressing so hard, the tips of his fingers were as white as the keys. His eyes slowly opened and he stared. He just stared. Tiffany waved an uneasy hand in front of him, but to no avail. His unfocused gaze stayed.

" ...Charles?" she placed a hand on top of his still one. " Are you okay?"

His hands trembled as he lowered them into his lap. He blinked a few times.

What the fuck was that? He turned to Tiffany. She looked worried. He didn't know what to do.

His eyes shifted from Tiffany to the piano numerous times as his already quivering hands shook even more resulting in him becoming a stuttering mess." Uh...Uh...I...I-I." He got up from the bench and scrambled away from her, picking up the record player and putting it back where it belonged. " I should really get you home."

He was moving around so fast, Tiffany didn't know how to keep up.

" Charles, what's the matt-?"

" I need to get you home!" He bellowed. His back was to her so he couldn't see her reaction. To be honest, there was no way for Charles to think about his friend's well being as he spewed every profanity he knew at himself from within his subconscious. He should've known better than to play that damn song. Out of all the fucking songs wandering aimlessly through his little head, he had to choose that fucking song! But he didn't mean to pick it. It just happened!

" I'm...I'm sorry." He muttered. " I just..." He trailed off, biting his lip. His hands balled into fists before collecting himself. He lifted a shaky hand and ran it through his hair. " C'mon." He walked passed her to get to the back door. He refrained from looking at Tiffany who was eyeing him cautiously.

" My bike's in the back."

It was quiet ride to Tiffany's house. Tiffany held onto Charles as he took a sharp turn on to her street. Numerous times, she had tried to talk to him about what happened back at his house. But her questions and concerns were only met with silence and Charles picking up speed.

Over the reeling of the bike wheels turning, Tiffany shouted a quick " There it is!" as she pointed to a large white house. Charles rode and parked his bike at the porch steps.

Tiffany immediately hopped off and scampered up the steps. While her back was turned, Charles somberly watched her lift the potted plant to retrieve her house key. Anxious, he picked at the patches of rubber glued to his handlebars.

" I...I'll see you Monday, yeah?"

Without saying a word, Tiffany kept her back turned. Her house key an inch away from the door lock.

Crestfallen at his friend's lack of a response, he looked down at his feet.

" Yeah, okay."

He began to pull out of her driveway.

"Charles, wait."

he stopped.

Tiffany turned around, key still firmly in her grip. Her eyebrows were scrunched together and her lips were in a fine line. She looked troubled.

" Back at school, in the jungle gym, you said if I told you about my sister, I could ask you anything I wanted."

"..."

" And now's a good time, I think, for you to uphold your end of the deal." She stepped down from her porch and took a seat on the second to last step. She rested one hand in her lap and patted the spot next to her with the other.

He was hesitant. The hole in his bike's handlebars grew to an excessive size due to his picking. He sighed, laid his bike in the grass, made his way over to Tiffany, and sat down.

Without even glancing at his friend, Charles asked. " What do you wanna know?"

Tiffany closed her eyes then opened them again. "...What happened to you? Ya know, back at your house? What was that?"

"..."

He ran a hand through his hair then looked out at the tree leaves swaying in the breeze. He didn't expect any of this to happen. That he'd be sitting on the porch with someone he considered a friend, getting ready to explain to her things he'd rather not talk about. But he had to at this point. He got her to tell him so much about herself. It's only fair.

'God, I hate fairness sometimes.' He grumbled to himself.

Trying to muster up the courage to speak, he intertwined his fingers in a vice grip, placed his head on top of his clasped hands, and took a deep breath.

"...that song I was playing…" He started. "...was a lullaby my mom used to sing to me when I was younger. I didn't really know what I was playing until the last minute. And when I did, it brought back a bunch of things I felt about her that I didn't want to think about."

" ...how do you feel about your mom?"

Charles lifted his head to look at Tiffany, but then returned his gaze to his intertwined fingers.

"...I don't know." He answered. " I don't know how I feel about her. I can't choose. I can't love her and I can't hate her so I'm stuck in the middle. And I know she feels the same."

This brought Tiffany back to the portrait that featured Charles and his parents. She remembered his mother's face and how uncomfortable and far-gone she looked with her hands hovering mere inches from her son's shoulders. Like she wouldn't dare to touch him.

" But why?" she asked.

Charles felt his throat tighten as he answered her question. " ...Because I look like my dad." He choked out. His jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed. " I remember one night when I was five, I asked my mom to sing me to sleep like she always did. I remember her staring at me with this weird look on her face before smiling and tucking me in. When she sang to me, it wasn't like before. She kept stopping and looking down at me before singing again." Charles started picking at the skin around his nails.

Tiffany, without warning, grabbed Charles's hands and held them together. He faltered, passing a sideways glance to her, and mumbled a quick apology before taking them back and placing them in his lap. He kept them together to keep him from picking.

" Hehe." he laughed nervously. " One of my habits." He said as he pulled the cuffs of his sleeves to cover his hands. " That's better."

Tiffany just...well...watched.

It was honestly all she could really do in this moment. What he was telling her was so big. Bigger than anything he's ever told her before. Other days, he would only give her information on his home life in short bursts.

But now…

This was different.

So many thoughts were going through Charles's head. He really shouldn't be doing this. Why was he telling her all this anyway? It's not like she could do anything about it. Maybe he should stop. Yeah. He should stop now before he digs himself into a deeper hole than the one he already dug himself into. Before he's stuck in a bottomless pit of emotions too complicated for his ten year old brain to fully understand.

'...But I have to.' he thought to himself. ' I gotta do it."

"...I-It got weirder." He said after managing to find his voice again. "...after she finally finished the song. She pat me on the head, got up, cut off all the lights, and left me there."

Tiffany kept quiet.

" She just left me there. Alone. With nothing. Not a 'good night, Charles' or a kiss to the forehead." He had a hardness embedded in his voice. " I tried going to sleep after that, but right after she left, I started to hear my parents fight downstairs."

Feeling the memories come back, he closed his eyes and ran a balled fist up his arm to keep himself calm. He was honestly surprised he managed to keep his cool so far. Normally, he would yell or curse or throw things when his temper got out of control, but it seemed that with Tiffany sitting next to him, just her mere presence is able to keep his most disturbing thoughts at bay.

"...about me."

Charles tossed and turned under his covers as the screaming grew in volume. He glared at the crack in the door his mother left and threw his pillow at it as hard as he could in an attempt to close it.

It didn't even budge.

He sighed.

'How am I supposed to sleep with all that noise.' he muttered to himself as he got up to shut the door. All that yelling was starting to give him a headache. He quickly made his way to his bedroom door and began to gently close it.

" You ruin everything!"

Charles stopped.

That was his mother's voice.

He snuck out of his room and crept to the edge of the stairs. He crouched down near the railing so he could see his parents below.

His father looked angry, but also had a twinge of frustration laced in his expression and words. " Me?! I ruined everything?!"

" Everything I've had, you've take and ruin! You've taken everything from me. My life, my family, my son!"

" Take your life...your son?!" He raised his voice. " Woman, quit with your cryptic talk and tell me the fuck is your problem?" Rudolph demanded, grabbing his wife by the shoulders.

She roughly pushed him away and turned her back on him. " Have you seen him lately?" she asked. In that moment, both Charles and Rudolph looked confused. " He's starting to act like you. He's starting to LOOK LIKE YOU." She gripped her head in anger. " Soon, he'll start talking like you!"

"...He has no remnants of me anymore. It's like he's not even my son."

" And whose fault is that, Sorcha?!" Rudolph bellowed, " You rarely go near that boy! Like he's a fucking disease! All you do is sit and wallow about the 'life you should've had'" he finished with air quotes. " Maybe if you stayed with your wealthy fucking parents when you were pregnant with him, then you wouldn't be here."

" How dare you! Don't come at me like you care for him knowing you put your hands on him!" She turned to him with a newfound rage in her eyes. " You don't love him! Admit it, you think he's a burden."

Rudolph paused and then laughed. It was a short little cackle." And you don't?"

Then there was silence. Charles's vision blurred and his hands shook more with each passing minute of his mother's lack of response. He felt his entire body tighten.

" Well?" Rudolph stood there, waiting for an answer. At his question, Sorcha had completely shut down. " I'm waiting." he smirked.

He walked up to her statued form, roughly cradled her face in his hands, and placed a chaste kiss to the bridge of her nose. She flinched under each touch.

" That's what I thought." He placed his forehead onto hers and closed his eyes. He held her there for a few moments before shoving her to the ground.

"...wow." Tiffany scratched the back of her head as Charles sat in silence. He sat back with his arms crossed over his chest. He ran the heel of his shoe into the dirt.

" My dad left right after that. Probably went to a bar or something." His voice was almost like a whisper. " After some minutes, my mom got up and started to head upstairs. She saw me, but...I couldn't look at her. Not after all of that. I felt her pick me up, carry me to my room, and tuck me in again. She kissed my forehead that time, but it felt so wrong. I haven't felt right since."

" I just...I just don't know what to feel or how to feel, ya know?" He looked to her before groaning in frustration. "Ugh! Now you see why I don't wanna talk about this shit. It's just a confusing mess." He said, dropping his face into his hands with a huff. Suddenly, he felt Tiffany's hand rest on his shoulder. He instantly relaxed.

" I'm glad you told me though." She gave him a calming smile.

" Yeah, I'm glad too." He nodded, returning the gesture. And he was right, he was glad he told her. Though he still couldn't fully understand the words that flew from his mouth, it was good that he managed to get the gist of it out of his system. He let out a quick chuckle before turning to Tiffany.

" Now that that's over," He got up from his spot and dusted himself off. Tiffany followed him. " Next time I'm in a 'bad mood', you can leave me be." Reaching up to pinch his friend's cheek, he cackled when she raised a brow.

" You know I won't." She declared as she watched him get on his bike. She smirked when he faced her with narrowed eyes and got closer. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she gave him a small kiss on his cheek.

" Hey!" He shouted, pushing her away. His face flushed a deep red. " Stop that! What'd you go and kiss me for?!" He roughly rubbed his face. All Tiffany could do was place her hand over her mouth to cover her grin as her body shook with laughter.

" Haha I'm sorry." Tiffany said through her giggles. " I couldn't help myself."

Charles rolled his eyes as the red deepened. " Whatever, I'm heading home. I gotta be back before the sun goes down." He said, finally backing out of her driveway. " I'll come pick you up tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow?" She questioned, tilting her head to the side.

" Well, yeah. I gotta play you another song since I kinda sorta fucked up the last one hehe." he sheepishly ran a hand down his neck.

She smiled." yeah okay. I'll see you tomorrow."