15. The Beginning Of The Downfall
CHAPTER 15
THE BEGINNING OF THE DOWNFALL
NATE
September 2005
Age 18
In the dim glow of my desk lamp, my textbook blurs into meaningless scrawls. Radiohead pounds through my headphones, but even the familiar comfort of rock can't dull the bone-deep ache from today's football practice and the fight I got involved in with Dad two nights ago.
The house stands silent around me—Mom's been gone all day and Jake's lost in whatever's been consuming his time lately. The illusion of solitude shatters when yelling pierces through my music. My heart slams against my ribs as I rip off my headphones. The voices escalate, raw and furious, bouncing off the walls like shrapnel. Mom and Dad's fights have been getting worse, but this—this is different. There's an edge of violence in their voices that turns my blood to ice.
Dad's been spiraling lately. Coming home late, clothes reeking of booze and shame. I found his stash last week—pills and cocaine tucked away in those special pockets of his suits, the ones designed for keeping ugly secrets. The discovery sits like lead in my stomach, another weight added to the burden of knowing.
Their voices tangle in the air, a brutal symphony of accusations and denials. They're fighting about her again—the other woman, the shadow that's been slowly poisoning our family. Dad's words slur together, each denial dripping with the desperation of a man caught in his own web of lies.
A crash rips through their argument—the sound of shattering glass splitting the night. My body moves before my mind can catch up, terror and rage fueling each step as I sprint downstairs. Another sound follows, heavier, more final—the sickening thud of flesh meeting floor.
The scene in the living room stops my heart. Mom is crumpled on the ground, barely moving, tears cutting paths through the blood on her face. The stench of whiskey rolls off the monster I no longer recognize in waves as he towers over her, his familiar sneer twisting his features into something monstrous.
Something inside me fractures.
The air grows thick, each breath like swallowing broken glass. A dark fury claws its way up my throat, threatening to drag me into an abyss I might never escape.
"Scott, I'm sorry," Mom whispers, her voice splintering like the fragments of glass scattered across the floor.
The walls of my restraint crumble. Every silent tear she's shed, every bruise she's hidden, they all converge into this moment, feeding a hatred that burns through my veins like acid.
He catches my eye, that cruel smirk I've grown to despise playing on his lips. "Go to your room," he spits, voice dripping with contempt.
Something inside me snaps.
Like a dam breaking, years of pent-up fear and helplessness surge through me. I lunge forward, grabbing his arm and yanking him away from her with every ounce of strength I possess.
He hits the floor hard. Before he can recover, I'm on him, hands fisted in his shirt. My vision blurs red as my fists connect with his face, each impact sending shockwaves of savage satisfaction through my body.
"Stop it, Nate! Please, stop!" Mom's voice cuts through the haze, trembling with fear—not just for herself anymore, but for me.
I freeze, chest heaving. Beneath me, that fucking smirk still plays on his face. "You better get off me," he hisses.
"Get out," I growl, the words scraping my throat raw. "Before I fucking kill you."
He hesitates, calculating. When he finally stands, I shove him back. His hands find my throat, slamming me against the wall. "You need to remember your fucking place while you're under my roof," he spits, grip tightening before he releases me.
I hold his gaze until he stumbles out, the door's slam echoing through the house like a gunshot.
The silence that follows is deafening. Mom remains crumpled on the floor, hands trembling as they ghost over her bruised throat. I drop beside her, pulling her into my arms, trying to shield her from a world that's already hurt her too much.
"Mom," I whisper, my voice cracking. "You're bleeding."
She clings to me, her silent sobs soaking through my shirt. Each tear adds another crack to my heart as I hold her on the cold floor, offering the only comfort I can—my presence.
As her breathing steadies, I loosen my grip but don't let go. Can't let go.
"Mom, you can't keep doing this," I say quietly. "You have to leave him. This isn't normal. It's not okay."
She shakes her head, pulling back to meet my eyes. "He's just stressed. Work has been rough, and the drinking—he doesn't mean it. He's just??—"
"No," I cut her off. "You can't keep justifying this. It's not stress, and it's not just the drinking. It's the lying, the cheating. He's hurting you in every way, and it's getting worse."
Her face crumples. "You're not going to understand this but I'm trying to keep us together. And I'm sorry, Nate. I wish you didn't see any of this."
"Well, it's too late for that. I've seen it all. And if you think this is keeping us together, look around. We're falling apart." The words feel like shards of glass in my throat.
She twists her fingers together; a nervous habit I've watched develop over years of abuse. "I know you think I'm stupid for staying," she whispers.
"I don't think??—"
"It's not as easy as you think," she interrupts. "I don't want to lose everything."
The realization hits me like a sucker punch—she's not going to leave him. No matter how bad it gets, she's trapped in this cycle of hope and despair.
"Mom, I can't watch this anymore," I say, emotion thick in my voice. "I'm supposed to go off to college soon, but I'm starting to think maybe I??—"
Her head snaps up, panic flashing in her eyes. "No, Nate. You can't do that. You've worked so hard, and you deserve this. You need to focus on your future, on college and football. You need to get out of here, build your own life."
"If I leave, who's going to protect you? Who's going to look out for Jake?" The thought of leaving them unprotected tears at my insides.
"I'll be okay. He wouldn't touch Jake." Though the first part is clearly a lie, I half-believe the second. Dad adores Jake, but I don't trust him around my little brother.
She forces a smile that doesn't reach her eyes and touches my face.
"You don't need to worry about me or Jake or anything else, okay? You need to think about your future. You can't throw that away. I need you to get out of here and live your life, Nate. Okay?"
I study her face—the carefully concealed bruises, the deep stress lines, the dullness in her once-bright eyes. She's breaking, piece by piece, and nothing I say seems to matter.
"I'm not throwing anything away," I lie, trying to convince myself more than her. "But I can't leave you here with him."
"Nate," she whispers, cupping my cheek. "You've always been so strong. But don’t carry this weight. Promise me you won’t. Please. I can't bear the thought of you being stuck here. Please, Natey. Please, for me."
I swallow hard against the burning in my throat. She doesn’t understand what she’s trying to ask of me. I want to believe her, to trust that she'd be okay without me. But the truth sits like poison in my gut—she won't leave him.
If I go, who will save her next time?
Or the time after that?
"Mom," I manage, barely audible, "I can't."
She smiles through her tears.
"You can. And you will." She draws me close, our foreheads touching, before pulling me into another embrace, as if her arms could protect me from the shadows that have already claimed our family. I know it's not enough. It will never be enough. That knowledge cuts deeper than any physical wound.
The shift in Dad started around my seventh birthday. His eyes changed when they looked at me, disappointment clouding what used to be pride. I learned quickly to stay quiet around him, but as I grew older, silence became another form of betrayal—watching him destroy Mom piece by piece.
Pain comes in countless forms; the worst is watching it consume those you love. Mom is the greatest casualty in this war. If I leave now, who shields her? Who protects Jake from the monster wearing our father's face?
Sitting here in this moment, surrounded by the evidence of tonight's violence, held by the woman who loved me first, my future crystallizes with stunning clarity.
I realize, in this moment, I no longer have a father.