Page 36 of For the Fans

No… No fucking way.

I am absolutelynotcommuting to BC for two more years.Fuck that.

I’m not moving back in here. I refuse.

“This is so fucked,” Avi scoffs an unamused chuckle, shaking his head.

“So there’s justnothingwe can do??” I gasp, jittering in my seat from the weight of the utter sadistic bullshit that is my life.

“You could talk to your advisor… To your coach.” Dad shrugs, drinking with his back to us. “See if you can apply for a housing grant…”

“Yea right.” I rip at my hair some more. “They won’t give me shit. Not when I live so close, and if anything, not until next year.”

“Kyran, living at home for one semester won’t be the end of the world…” Hannah chirps remorsefully.

Um, yes, it will.Itwillbe the end of the world.

BC was supposed to be my escape. Even one semester living here could derail everything.

Ihaveto live in the dorms with my teammates. I love living with Guty, and being able to see my friends whenever I want. If I moved in here, I’d be stuck with my father, a man who barely gives a shit about me, his suffering new wife, and… Avi.

No. No, I don’t want this. This sucks ass.

“Tom, please sit down and eat something,” Hannah hums in a small, pleading voice.

But he simply grunts, “Not hungry.” He pours himself another glass of liquor and stomps away, back to his office.

The door slams, and with that, the conversation is over.

Mylife, as I know it, is over.

My plans, everything I’ve been trying to do… Everything I’ve been fighting like hell to overcome…

It’s all blown up right in my face.

A memory pops into my mind… Of my father telling me and my sister that he and my mother were getting a divorce. The look he shot right at me, before stalking away into his office and slamming the door…

You can’t escape it.

You never will.

Nothing you do will ever be good enough to fix the damage you caused.

“You know what…” I scoot my chair back and stand up, pushing past the headrush that wobbles me a little. “I’m not hungry either.”

Feet carrying me in the direction of the stairs, I march up them, numb to the world as I go. The lack of control I have in this situation is daunting, building severe pressure inside my skull like a migraine. Slamming my bedroom door, I lean up against it and struggle to breathe.

This can’t be happening… It can’t be.

After everything I did to get myself out… I can’t lose it all just like that.

Pushing myself off the door, I stumble over to my bed and plop down onto it, stuffing my face into the pillow.

Last year was amazing… Freshman year at BC, making new friends, the parties, the football… I was finallyaway. Free fromthe nightmares and congested memories. I can’t possibly go back to living here…

He doesn’t fucking want me here.

A few minutes of stewing later, there’s a knock on my door. A small sliver of hope rustles awake inside me… that maybe it’s my father coming to talk to me. To tell me itwasn’tmy fault, and that he still loves me, no matter what.