Shattered(4)

The next morning, my parents sit across the table from me. They eat breakfast like nothing happened last night. They don't even talk about it. It isn't until I stand to leave that my father asks my mother about the lawyer.

I stop and turn with my plate in my hands. I'm worried that they're going to press charges against Trystan. "Lawyer for what?"

Daddy shoots daggers at me with his eyes. "For what? Oh, let's see. First of all there was that assault you were involved in with Brie and then there was the incident last night." His jaw twitches. I know he wants to scream at me until his eyes get too big for his head and that vein in his temple swells to spaghetti size.

"She had nothing to do with the incident last night. The officer said - " Mother is kind. She tries to defend me for once, but Daddy cuts her off.

"The officer was being polite. He didn't want to say that our daughter was with a derelict and his drunken father, doing God knows what, when things got out of hand." Daddy gives Mom a stern look and she lowers her head and goes back to her eggs. My heart falls inside my chest. I wish she'd defend me. Just once.

When Daddy resumes his rant, his voice is tense, clipped. "I'm not pressing charges. It'll cost more than it's worth." I hear it'll cost more than you're worth. It rings crystal clear in my head, like he actually said it. He looks up at me and asks, "Tell me, Mari - do you intend to throw away your life on someone so utterly beneath you, or do you intend to make something of yourself? Actions like this have consequences and from where I stand, you're throwing away your life. You're nothing but a goddamn waste."

His words cut me in two. I don't know what I expected him to say but that wasn't it. I move robotically to the sink and set my plate down. My chest constricts and turns cold. My eyes don't blink, they look but they don't see. I don't see Daddy go back to his breakfast like he wished me well today. I don't see my mother cowering, doing nothing to prevent his words from stabbing me in the heart. I've done nothing to warrant this from him, yet, this is my treatment. I'm an inconvenience. He makes that abundantly clear.

I'm a bill.

I'm an expense.

I'm an adverse risk, one that he would have rather lived without.

~TRYSTAN~

The police don't know what to do with him. Trystan is too old or too young. The cops don't want to throw him in jail, but they haven't released him yet, either. Trystan sits in the police station after questioning that took too long. He didn't say much. There wasn't much to say.

The police station is busy even though it's getting late. It seems like the later it gets, the more stupid people become. Trystan is sitting in an old beat up wooden chair by the detective's desk. The cop sits next to him filling out paperwork, not saying much. Trystan's gaze is carefully placed on the floor where it can't attract trouble. His arms are folded over his chest and he's slumped back in his seat. There isn't anything that he wouldn't give to be somewhere else. This trip, this whole damn night, is going to ruin his shot at the army. Trystan stares at his toe, the once-white part of his Converse, as he thinks that plan was shot to hell anyway. Mari loves him. Mari wants to be with him.

And now this.

Trystan rubs his hands over his face and back through his hair. He stretches and looks over at the cop. "Can I go?" He's polite. It's a stupid question. After everything that happened, Trystan's sure they won't release him.

"Not yet, kid. Let me finish this and you can sign it. If the girl's family presses charges, we'll deal with it then. I don't want to throw you in a cell with the guys that are in there tonight. Too much shit has happened. They'll rip you apart before you even get a chance to turn around." The cop has a wrinkled dress shirt on. His tie is loosened around his neck. His face is covered in wrinkles and his skin weathered like old leather. There are too many creases and he has that smoky smell that comes from lighting up too many times each day. The cop doesn't look up at Trystan.

This is the first time anyone told him what was going on. Since they dragged him into the station, no one said anything to him. Trystan doesn't want to ask, but he can't help it. "Did they say if they're going to press charges?"

The cop nods, not looking up from his paperwork. "Not yet, but she's a minor. They'll probably talk to their lawyer in the morning and we'll hear back then." He glances up at Trystan and points a pen at the string of bruises blossoming around Trystan's neck. "From the look of things, it could have been a lot worse. You're lucky."

Trystan laughs. The sound is so bitter that he can taste it. "If that was lucky - "

The cop cuts him off. He looks straight at Trystan and narrows his eyes. "Damn right, it was lucky. Lucky she showed up. Lucky your old man didn't break her ribs. Lucky you're still breathing. You were lucky, Trystan. No one else stepped in. That parking lot was filled with people. They all minded their own business and let your dad strangle you. That girl saved your ass." His old eyes hold Trystan's for a moment and his expression softens. "If you've got some family you can stay with until you graduate, do it. These things don't end well. Once you pass that point, once you fight back, there's just going to be more of it." Trystan holds the cop's gaze for a second and nods.

Trystan gets what the detective is saying. Don't go home.