He looks the same, the same eyes that are reflected in Shay, same smart ass smile. I should feel hate, disappointment, and disgust but instead I just feel tired.

“What are you doing here?” it’s the only thing I can think to say, the last time I saw him he was walking away at mom’s funeral.

“Your friend Chase called me.” he’s just standing there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes staring deep in my soul. “Shane…what happened?”

Its sounds so simple that question, but I can’t even begin to think of an answer. I can’t seem to talk when I’m around him, I don’t know who he is.

“Is that why you’re here? To find out why I’m in here? Why do you think?” the slow burning rage flowing freely through my body, covering the room in a dark red haze.

“…I know I’m the last person you ever want to see, that you hate me but I’m your father and that gives me the right to know how you are.” my hand itches, forming into a fist by itself and I don’t how long I can keep myself from hitting him. “The things I’ve done, I’m sorry that I haven’t been there for you but I’m here now. I’ve been here for the last two years and if you had answered any of my calls or letters you would know that.”

His eyes full of pain his lips moving and I hear no sound, amazed by each word that his mouth forms. What the fuck is he doing here? I don’t want to talk to him to hear what he has to say, he is nothing more than Gabriel McCutcheon, a man with the same last name.

“It’s okay…come on, let’s go get something to eat.” he holds out his hand the same way as he did before, trying to make it all right.

“I can’t I’m waiting for someone,” why does it feel like this? Why do I care that he looks away when I say no? “I’ll phone her.”

________________________________________________________________________________________

The smell of her cologne left on her pillow, the thick warm comforter lying over me replacing her. I miss her hand on my stomach, how she would curl her fingers just before she woke up. Her warm breathe flowing down my neck, the way her leg would brush against mine. The bright light shining dark through the curtain, and she isn’t there, there is no kiss on the back of my neck. I hate it not waking up next to her, not feeling those chills run from her fingers shocking every nerve in my body. Looking for her hoping that she would walk out from the bathroom that she would come in from the balcony smelling of the acrid smoke. Instead I am met with the shrieking buzz of the alarm clock and the sound of foot steps out side the door. The thick smoke that swirl in my head clearing, the closet door open showing the dark abyss that holds that small box that only we know about.