The drive home was filled with an unsteady silence. I could see that my father was stressing, leaning against his door with a fury as he drove. We stopped at a red light and the silence was broken with a shaky breath that betrayed his stoic nature.

"I'm sorry for all that has happened, but this isn't easy on us either." 

'Us', being a euphemism for him and his own interests. There wasn't an 'us' anymore, I can't even say there was ever an 'us'. He took another breath, steeling himself for some inevitable conflict.

"Luckily, we anticipated this, and so we already made arrangements," he turned stiffly, gauging my reaction, "with a boarding school that your uncle works at. The forms were already filled out two months ago..."

The trailing off, it was his habit but it annoyed me to no end. Still, better to be sent to a boarding school than stay one more day in that snake's den. It was always one of his threats, sending me off to a boarding school. It seems like he finally had enough and just wanted to get it over and done with. We continued the drive home, the air weighed down with unspoken words, arguments and pleading. Was he expecting me to put up a fight?

I just wanted this to be over. Over the years, I had grown inexplicably tired.

We finally got home. He didn't get out immediately, but just shut off the car and looked over at me.

"Just get your stuff ready, your mom's coming to pick you up in a few minutes."

There was a mournful glaze over his eyes before he got out of the car and left. It was the only option to follow his orders so I got up, running up the stairs and to my room. I didn't even realize I had started crying until I tasted the salt on my lips. I pulled out my duffel bag, sitting in front of it and just wiping at the tears frivolously. When you notice that you're crying, it apparently only gets worse.

I can't say it was sad tears, maybe more anger. Blurry, I got up from the floor and began packing away anything I thought I might need, it only took maybe fifteen tops. Still, there was a weight to every action and I could only imagine what it was like for him. I could feel a pulsing under my head as a headache slowly came up from the depths.

It began to thrum before finally turning into a pulsing headahe, just under the skin. Frustrated, I reached behind my desk and pulled out the savior. A tray of painkillers, over the counter, had become one of the things that helped my headache, alongside other things. The body high it gave was enough for me to be free for a few hours until it left my system and that was enough of an escape. Two pills usually did the trick, taken down with water although I wanted to take more if it meant having that brain-numb for longer.

Two went down, and I shoved the remaining tray and box into a pair of shoes I had put in the duffel bag. Stop them from getting crushed in case anything happened, you know? I had stopped crying, but now it was just quiet. Everything was going to be behind a nice pane of glass soon, and I wouldn't have to worry about it.

I heard a honking outside, taking my bag up on my shoulder. Down the stairs, and I saw my dad slumping on the couch. He only spared me a final nod and I gave it back before leaving to go greet my mom. The car had the same silence, albeit less tense and more of just an overwhelming sadness.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this Aharon," she said quietly, breaking the silence as we drove down the backroads.

"It's fine. It was either that or something worse happened."

She hit my shoulder, glaring at me from the side of her eye. The drive continued until the later afternoon when we finally arrived in front of a time-slip. The building itself was modern, blocky? It still had some features of decades past but it looked like it was trying to keep up with the times. We parked, got up and mom looked at me quietly as we walked to the front office.

She was taller than me, maybe a few centimetres taller than dad, which gave her an advantage when walking. A few strides and she was at the gate, waiting to be buzzed in. When we got in, there were two people that were waiting for us. There was the older, stoic man that looked like he was one foot down the river. Next to him was a boy, maybe a year older than me, who wore a school blazer over a haphazardly worn outfit that you'd expect to see at home than in a school. The older man looked up from his clipboard, nodding at my mom first before turning to me. He didn't spare me much of a look before looking back.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Channa," he looked down at his clipboard, "and Aaron?"

"Miss Channa, my husband and I are divorced," my mom corrected. The older man nodded, looking at me for confirmation of my name. I nodded.

"Right then, well we have a copy of your records so you shouldn't be in too much of a trainwreck. This is Blaze," he gestured non-chalantly to the boy, "and he will be your guide. He's your class captain, and any questions you have will be directed to him specifically, alright?"

He didn't give me space to answer either, gesturing for my mom to follow him further into the office. Blaze looked over me, nodding before walking off into another hall. I followed him awkwardly, but he slowed down until he was astride me. He reached out, patting my back comfortingly, a quiet show of camradery.

"You'll be fine, I promise," he said.