Failure ("Explosion" from Making Shapely Fiction)

Justin shivered in his bed, staring off at some point in the distance. She should have known. A breeze swept into his room and wrapped its icy fingers around his neck, shaking him and choking him. She should have known.

He's gone. He's really gone. Cara's breaths quickened. Her eyes widened. She stared at the mirror and fear crept into her throat and filled every crevice of her organs. She missed him. She loved him. She wanted her life back.

"I don't care if you have somewhere to go! I need the car!" Justin stared daggers into his mother's calm, forgiving eyes. I wonder how long this will last, she thought, prepared to play the game she had always played with her little boy.

"This is it, then. We're done?" Asked Cara, a snide smile hiding in her face. Justin's eyes welled with tears. Temper tantrums were always his specialty. He could cry for hours and hours as a child, and even if he got what he wanted, he might not stop. Cara left before Justin had the chance to begin his melodramatic, sob-filled tantrum.

Justin stood outside the art museum wringing his hands and, with tears in his eyes, searched desperately for a familiar face somewhere. She was never there on time. He was always the last one there after class. She doesn't love me. She never loved me.

"Justin, this is too much for me. I can't always listen to you cry like this. I need there to be happiness in this too. I need to feel like I'm not always taking care of you."

"No! I don't wanna go! No! No!" Justin hated doctors. He hated being pushed around. He just wanted the freedom of choice. He wanted to feel like he could do this on his own. He wanted to feel loved enough to be given those choices.