Missing

I sat staring at my empty exercise book in class, lightly tapping a pen for something to do. It was third period English, and the teacher was droaning on about what we were learning. I couldn't tell you what we'd been learning in the last two weeks. I was too distracted. Jaime was sitting beside me, and he softly wedged the pen out of my hands.

"He hasn't come home yet, has he Nick?"

I snatched the pen back, and resumed the tapping with my other hand. By 'he' he was talking about my father. A week and a half ago he went out one night and didn't come home. We'd filed the missing persons report instantly, but he was just that: missing.

"I'm sure he's fine," Jamie whispered, taking down a quick note on his book to make it look like he was paying attention. I'd long stopped with that. The teachers were aware of my family situation. They'd expected me to stay at home, but how else could I distract myself from the thought? They were probably right. It wasn't helping me being here, but I knew I wouldn't be of any help at home, either. I'd chosen to remain at school. While I tried to be my normal self, I couldn't get away from that nagging feeling.

"He would've contacted us by now," I whispered back, confiding in my friend as I continued to stare dismally at the lined paper, "There's this guy that hangs around. I think he has something to do with it."

"Nick," the teacher had to repeat my name several times before I realised she was talking to me. "You need to go to the office with your bag."

"This can't be good," I muttered, grabbing my book and pen and shoving them roughly into my bag.

"Mate," Jaime grabbed my arm as I got up to leave, "Talk to me later, okay?"

I nodded briefly, before walking briskly from the room. Once out in the open air, I began to tremble. Going to the office could only be bad news. I never got into trouble; so I had a feeling this would be someone else's troubles. I was right.

My Mum was in the office when I entered, tears streaming down her face. My eyes began to water instantly, having been just below the surface all week.

"Mum?" I whispered, blinking a couple of times as the tears began rolling.

She shook her head, before looking up into my eyes, Dad's eyes. "They found him an hour ago."

"Well, he's okay, right?" I questioned, my voice high, "They found him; he's okay. He's strong. He'll make it."

She shook her head sadly again, "They found him dead."

I froze. The noise in my ears became temporarily silent. It was then I truly broke apart. It was then my life changed forever. I ran from the room, ignoring a teacher that tried to speak to me as I past, and I continued running until I found the car. I hid behind it, crashing to the bitumen and wailing like a child. And his voice was in my head, the night before he left. I love you. It was like he had known something was going to happen. He hadn't deserved it. He hadn't deserved it at all. I would gladly trade his place. What would I do without him? What would Damien do? And still I heard his voice again. You have each other. I tried to control my tears, my breathing. But at that moment, I couldn't. I'd lost control, and I had no desire to get it back.

[607 words]