Roland’s POV

Mom was crying again. She was always crying these days. The funeral had been hard on her. She had been crying ever since Dad was lowered to the ground. She got sent home from work the first day she went back because her crying was distracting to everyone else in the office. She hadn’t been back to work since and that was a month ago.

Food was getting low, we didn’t have any money left, I don’t think Mom even had a job at this point. 

My stomach ached as I curled into a tighter ball on my bed. The heat had been shut off last week and winter was hitting us hard. It was cold, I was hungry, and I missed my dad. 

I could fix this. I could make life better for us. We needed money and Dad left the shop for me. He taught me everything he knew about cars. I could dig us out of this hole.

My fists clenched as I stood up from the bed. My body ached and the pain in my stomach got worse but I forced a hoodie over my head and walked out the back door.

Dad’s shop had never been anything special to look at but it was nice. Just a decent-sized wooden shed with two bay doors, one for cars that were broken and one for cars that were ready to be sold, it was painted barn red back when he first built it but now it was weathered and brown.

The inside was as clean as a workshop could be, with a few parts scattered here and there with no rhyme or reason but it was normal. It smelled more like home than the actual house did. It smelled like oil, old wood, and metal and I felt myself take a full breath of air for the first time since I had called the ambulance.

We weren’t able to get the blood stain out of the floor but a white drop cloth covered it so it was fine because Dad was here. He spent most of his waking hours in this place and it felt like part of his soul had soaked into the old wood. I doubted he would ever leave this place entirely.

It was somehow warmer in here than the house had been but not by much. I rolled the sleeves of my hoodie up as I took in the car that had it’s hood raised. He didn’t tell me about the car since I was busy with school but judging by the rebuilt engine sitting next to the car I could only assume that it had needed to be replaced. 

I didn’t waste time and hooked it up to the engine lift Dad had hidden in the corner. It squeaked with every move and was old, and probably needed to be replaced soon but for now, it worked just fine.

It took an hour to get the engine replaced but when it was hooked up the car started without a single problem, no squeak or rattle or trouble steering. I smiled to myself as I turned the car off and began cleaning out the inside.

“Always make a car look presentable,” Dad said once when I asked why he put so much care into a car he was about to sell. “You’d be surprised at how much people will pay for a car with nice-looking seats and a couple of new floor mats.”

I had always hated the cleaning part. Touching other people’s dirt was never something I had liked but if Dad said it would help then I would do it.

By the time I was done, the sun was long gone and the temperature had dropped several more degrees but the car looked like it had just rolled off the manufacturing floor.

My stomach still ached but the smile that covered my face was almost enough to make me forget about it. All I had to do now was sell both of these cars, get some new ones in, and after a few cars sold we’d be back on our feet in no time.

“What are you doing in here?” I turned to see my mom standing in the doorway of the shop. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was flushed, probably from her crying. She was more pale than she had been months prior and her clothes practically fell off of her. It made me sad but I could fix it.

“I fixed the car that dad was working on,” I said proudly as I showed her my hard work. “Now we can sell both of them, pay off some bills, get a new one with any money left over. We can be okay again. You won’t have to go back to work anymore. I can take care of you, just like Dad did.” Her face turned sour. I didn’t know why but I braced myself for the yelling regardless.

“Just like Dad,” she asked with a glare. “You will never be your father. He was a god in a mortal body. You are the most watered-down version of him; you barely even look like him. You will never be him and I don’t want you in this shop again.”

“Why not? We need the money and if you aren’t going to work for it then we need to do something.” I clearly didn’t say the right thing. Her face flashed with anger as she stalked towards me.

“Are you saying I’m not providing for you,” she asked with a harsh glare, her voice deadly calm.

“I’m saying it’s colder in the house than it is outside and that we don’t have any food in there. I know you’re grieving but we have needs and you aren’t meeting them.” 

I hadn’t said it to be mean, I just needed her to realize what was happening, just in case she hadn’t understood what was happening on top of everything else. She didn’t seem to like my answer.

My head whipped to the side as the sting on my cheek ached with everything else.

She had hit me before so it wasn’t a big surprise but Dad wasn’t here to make her stop or to make it better once she was done.

“I don’t need the help of a child,” she seethed. “I am the adult. You are the child. I take care of you.”

“Then start taking care of me,” I said, a glare of my own slipping onto my face. “If I’m so incapable of caring for us then you need to wake up and do it.” The back of her hand hit my other cheek. I didn’t know how she had that much strength considering she hadn’t been eating but I knew the hit would leave a bruise.

“Don’t speak to me that way! I am your mother and you will respect me the way you respected your father!”

“I respected Dad because he was there and he tried and he made sure I was okay. I barely see. I didn’t see you much before he died but now? I’m lucky to see you once a week and when I do you don’t even look at me! You don’t ask me how I’ve been or what I’ve been doing at school! Dad is the one who’s dead yet you’re the one that’s acting like a fucking ghost!”

Her foot lifted and I didn’t have time to do anything but watch as it planted itself into my stomach. I doubled over with the pain but she didn’t give me a chance to breathe before her hand was tugging at my hair, forcing me to look up at her.

I got my eyes from her, those brown eyes that looked at me with so much hatred. She was glaring at me but I glared back.

“I hate you,” I seethed at her. She barely reacted and I hated her even more for that. “I’ve hated you for a while but Dad always said that hate wasn’t okay. That you shouldn’t hate anyone because you never want anyone to hate you; that life would be so much better for everyone if hate just didn’t exist. I tried not to hate you but now Dad isn’t here to tell me hate is wrong so I’ll tell you that as many times as it takes for you to understand how deeply I feel it.”

She let go of my hair and pushed me to the ground. I continued to stare up at her.

“I don’t care if you hate me,” she said with a shrug. “I am your mother and you will respect me. I don’t care what I have to do to teach you manners but I will turn you into a respectful human. Your father was always too soft on you, but I’m done with that now. You will learn manners, Roland Grace. I don’t care how long it takes me to beat that into your thick head.”

She turned and walked out the door without saying a word. The door shut with a heavy thud and the cheap lock made a low click as she locked me in.

I decided at that moment that no matter what she did, I would hate her until the day she died.

The first two days had been fine. The third day and on had been hell.

Kit’s POV

“Remember Kit,” my Dad called from behind the catcher’s mount. “Follow through on that swing. You can’t stop once you hit the ball, you have to take advantage of that full swing.” I nodded as I waited for the assistant coach to throw another ball.

We had been at it for hours, all the other kids were already at home eating dinner, but I didn’t care. I loved it. The feeling of the dirt underneath my cleats, the blisters that would form from gripping the bat too hard, the ache my shoulders would have from all the force I put into the swing. It was the only thing I cared about at this moment. 

My eyes watched the ball carefully as it was hurled at me. I waited and waited until it was the perfect distance away, and swung. The clang of the metal rattled down my arms as I watched the ball sail until it hit the net of the practice range.

My Dad cheered as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. He was grinning ear to ear as he praised the hit with every word he could think of. My heart swelled at the praise as I let the bat fall to the floor.

Hit after hit I listened to his suggestions, his praise, his random singing to the songs on the radio. When we reached the third extra hour he stood from the chair he always used.

“Alright buddy, Mom’s getting worried, we need to start making our way back home,” I whined as I wiped sweat from my forehead.

“Just a few more minutes,” I asked. “I just want to see if I can beat my best speed.”

“We can try again next week,” Dad said with a shake of his head. “For now we need to eat dinner, wash up, and get to bed. You have school in the morning.”

“Don’t remind me,” I sighed as I picked up the bat at my feet.

“Still not getting better,” he asked with a frown. “I thought you said you were making friends.”

“I am making friends,” I said with a frown. “Classes are hard. Focusing is hard. My teacher keeps yelling at me.”

“Yelling at you,” he asked with a glare as we walked to the car. “Which teacher? Do I need to go in there and talk to her?”

“Not ‘yelling’ yelling. Just stern talking to’s I guess. Literally the second I start to wander she calls me back. It’s annoying.” He chuckled as he opened the door to the car and slid in. 

“Well, that’s a good thing,” he said. “I know it’s hard but focusing is good. You gotta pay attention and keep your grades up if you want to play ball this spring. Does the extra practice seem to be helping? It used to help me a lot.”

“It helps for the rest of the night for homework and sometimes for a little bit the next day but sometime around lunch it’s a lost cause.” I could tell he was frowning.

“Do you want to discuss being tested again,” he asked. “I know you said no before but going into a new school year it might be important to try figuring out meds before the workload gets to be too much.” I shook my head.

We have had the ADHD talk more times than I could count these past few years. Dad had it and he was convinced I had it too. He had been brutally honest the first time I asked him about things that could help and ever since I heard his horror story about his first med dosage I had sworn I wasn’t going to go down that road. Feeling like a zombie and not having an appetite was not very appealing.

“I know it’s scary but it could help. I’m going to keep offering just to keep the options open but if the practice is helping maybe we could try to schedule more batting cage time.”

“I like that option better,” I said as he pulled into the driveway. He turned around and smiled at me as he turned the car off.

“Then we’ll do that,” he said, his smile bright like always. 

“I love you,” I said as I got out of the car. “Race you to the door.” I didn’t wait for him to answer as I took off to the front door.

He called me a cheater as he raced behind me, losing by barely a hair. 

We laughed as collided with the door.

Mom was in the kitchen, flittering with whatever she was making. She smiled widely when she saw us and left the kitchen for a quick hug for both of us.

“How was practice,” she asked when she pulled away.

“Great like always,” Dad said as he ruffled my hair and leaned in to press his lips against hers. “Almost broke his speed record. I have no doubt that he’ll get it next week.”

“Well, look at you,” Mom said with a wide smile. “You’ll be playing with the pros in no time!”

“It’s just my personal record,” I said with a shrug. “Not an all-time one.” I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Being a professional baseball player had been my goal from the first time I had ever touched a ball but it was cemented when I watched my first game in person. I wanted it more than anything but I wouldn’t let myself coast on a dream. It would take hard work and practice and I was willing to put in the work. 

“You’ll get there as long as you keep working hard,” Mom said as she placed a kiss on my forehead. “And keep eating. Look at you, you’re all but wasting away. Let’s get some food into you.”

“Wasting away,” I blanched. “This is well-developed muscle!” She didn’t look convinced as she ushered me to the table.

Dinner had been amazing and thanks to practice I was able to get done with all the homework I had been putting off without too much of a hassle.

When it was far later than any kid my age should be awake my parents came into the room and declared bedtime. I was tucked into bed with a kiss on the forehead by each of them with a promise to see them in the morning.

“I love you,” I called out as the door slowly closed.

“We love you,” they answered and I slipped off into a bone-tired sleep.