Fragile by A.K. Evans

Prologue

Demi

“It’s never going to change with you, is it, Martin?”

“Oh, fuck, Brenda. Won’t you ever just shut up?”

The yelling never stopped.

I felt sick to my stomach.

It was Thursday, this was the third time this week, and they were still at it. How had they not lost their voices yet? I was exhausted just listening to them for the few minutes that I did. I didn’t even know what they were arguing about anymore. I just knew I couldn’t take the yelling much longer.

I closed my bedroom door as quietly as I could. Considering how loudly they were shouting, I don’t know why I was being so careful not to make any noise. It wasn’t like they’d hear me anyway.

Moving across the room to my desk, I picked up my headphones, put them on, and turned on my music. Anything to drown out the noise and help me focus.

I sat down at my desk, listened to one song, and tried to get lost in the words, hoping they’d erase all the garbage in my mind. When the song ended and another started, I was at least able to concentrate enough on my homework.

I was a freshman in high school, a place I hated almost as much as being at home. School was tough, and it wasn’t the work that was the problem, either. I was an average student and did well enough.

My issue was with trying to find a place where I fit. I wasn’t one of the jocks. Though I loved music, I didn’t play any instruments, so the band was out. I wasn’t one of the nerds. I didn’t join the drama club. I was just… me. And who I was didn’t seem to fit anywhere.

I wasn’t a complete loner. I did have a friend from my homeroom that was also in a few of my classes. But beyond school-related stuff, we didn’t really hang out ever.

I’d gotten through nearly all of my homework when a hand gently touched my shoulder, and I practically jumped out of my seat.

Spinning around, I saw my mom standing there. She was wearing her scrubs, which meant that she’d be leaving for work. It seemed that it was the only time there was ever any peace in the house. Mom was a nurse who worked the night shift at the hospital. She worked twelve-hour shifts that started at seven in the evening. Given that the hospital was only a ten-minute drive from our house, my mom would get home during the week just as I was leaving for school.

I pulled my headphones off my ears and said, “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to come in and say goodbye to you before I left for work,” she started. “Are you getting your stuff done?”

I’m trying to,I thought.

“Yeah, I’m almost finished with it,” I told her.

She smiled at me. “Good. Listen, I was thinking that since I’m off this weekend that you and I could do something special together. Maybe some shopping followed by dinner and a movie. What do you think?”

“That sounds great, Mom,” I answered. And it did. Not because I was overly interested in shopping but because it meant that we’d be out of the house, and I wouldn’t need to listen to them yelling at each other. “I can’t wait.”

“Okay. I know you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I’ve put some leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry,” she said.

She hadn’t been making that up. I didn’t eat much at dinner because I didn’t feel well. Then again, it was rare that I didn’t have an upset stomach all the time these days. Most days, I managed to power through and eat. Today, I just couldn’t.

“Thanks,” I replied.

My mom bent down and kissed my forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning before you leave for school,” she stated as she brought her body upright. “Bye, Demi.”

“Later, Mom.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the room. I watched as she walked out. Then I waited and listened to her leaving the house.

Knowing there’d be no more fighting, I turned off the music, set my headphones down, and finished up my work. Thirty minutes later, I had completed it.

I thought I should try to eat something even though my stomach still felt a bit unsettled. I figured that the uneasiness would subside now that my parents wouldn’t be fighting for the rest of the night.

Walking into the kitchen, I found my father sitting on a stool at the island drinking a beer.

“Hey, Demi girl,” he said. “Hungry?”

I wanted to scream. Both of my parents acted like everything was fine. They’d talk to me like I hadn’t just listened to the two of them arguing about everything and nothing.

I shrugged. “I don’t feel great, but I thought it might be because I haven’t had anything to eat.”

“Your mother left food in the fridge if you want to heat that up,” he remarked.

My mother. Like she wasn’t also his wife.

God, they were both just as bad as each other. Mom barely mentioned my dad to me, and he never referred to her as anything other than my mother.

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that,” I replied.

As quickly as I could, I pulled the food out and popped it in the microwave to heat it up. Ten minutes later, I wasn’t feeling any better.

When I pushed the plate away and sat up, my father’s eyes came to me. “What’s going on?”

“I think I’m just going to go to bed early tonight,” I told him. “Maybe it’ll help to sleep it off.”

He assessed me a moment, and something moved through his face. “Okay. Good night, Demi.”

“Good night, Dad.”

At that, I put my plate in the sink and made my way back to my room. It was still a bit earlier than I’d normally go to bed, but I didn’t care. I felt horrible.

Minutes after I climbed under the blanket I was asleep.

It felt like I hadn’t even been sleeping for five minutes when my eyes shot open.

I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was just before ten o’clock at night. I hadn’t even been asleep a full two hours. In the thirty seconds my eyes had been open, I realized that my stomach issues weren’t related to my parents arguing with each other earlier.

I was going to be sick.

Throwing the blanket back from my body, I hopped out of bed and dashed into the bathroom. I just barely made it in time to empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

Ugh.

I was sick.

Legitimately sick.

Once I was sure that I’d finished vomiting, I stood up straight, looked in the mirror, and brushed my teeth.

I wanted to tell my dad that I’d just thrown up, so I walked out of the bathroom and ambled down the hall to my parents’ bedroom. With each step I took, I felt worse and worse.

Freezing.

I was freezing.

Putting my hand to the doorknob, I turned it and pushed the door open.

“Dad,” I called as I flipped on the light.

“Shit, fuck, Demi,” he cursed.

His response hadn’t been startled because I woke him from a deep sleep. It came because I’d just caught him with his pants down. Or technically, they were off. He was standing at the side of the bed he shared with my mother, and a woman who was not my mother was naked on her back, her torso propped up on her elbows, and her legs wrapped around him.

Well, they had been wrapped around him. The second I walked in, my father had stepped back from her and unfortunately, he turned toward me.

I couldn’t respond.

That was mostly because the moment I opened my mouth, which was several seconds after I took in the scene before me, I vomited all over the floor.

As soon as I could, I turned and ran back down the hall to the bathroom. I locked myself inside, laid down on the floor, and burst into tears.

I didn’t open the door again until the following morning when my mom got home.

Suffice it to say that we didn’t go shopping or to the movies that weekend.