BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM.
The sound slammed through the walls like a hammer beating on bone.
Alex blinked, barely processing it. He sat up slowly in bed, eyes darting toward the hallway.
"Didn't Raegal say he was hanging a picture tonight...?"
His eyes flicked to the glowing digits of the clock.
"But this late...?"
The air felt heavier now. Too still.
He threw the blanket off and moved quickly to the side room where Kael was asleep on the mattress.
"Kael," Alex whispered, nudging his shoulder.
Kael groaned. "S-sure... yaaawwwnn..."
Alex didn't say another word — just looked at him.
That look was enough.
They padded silently through the hall, every creak of the wooden floorboards sounding like a scream.
The door to Raegal's room stood slightly ajar. Kael reached out. Slowly. Carefully.
Creeeaaaak.
And there he was.
Raegal.
Standing in the middle of the room.
Head bowed.
Blood streaming from his forehead.
It dripped into his eyes — turning them red — and then down his nose, lips, chin...
His hands hung by his sides.
Eyes wide, distant.
Not in pain. Not in shock.
Guilt.
He looked like a man who had just remembered everything he tried to forget.
Alex froze. "What the f##k?"
Kael couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
His father — the man who always held the world on his back — now looked like he could barely hold himself up.
"KAEL! GET THE GODDAMN AID KIT!"
Kael blinked back to life. "Y-Yeah..."
Alex rushed forward, gently cupping Raegal's head, pressing his own forehead to the wound to stop the bleeding. It wasn't just first aid — it was instinct. Something buried deeper than survival.
Kael returned, hands shaking, fumbling with gauze, alcohol, tape.
The wound was deep. Deliberate.
They patched it up in silence.
The bleeding stopped. But Raegal didn't move.
He just sat.
Breathing like a ghost.
Eyes blank.
Blood still dried into the corners of his face.
Then—barely above a whisper—he muttered:
"I'm sorry..."
"...I couldn't."
Silence.
Kael flinched.
Alex didn't ask. He already knew better.
Raegal said nothing more. His body folded in on itself like a man who'd just lost a war that no one else had seen.
---
Morning
No one spoke.
The sun filtered through the curtains like it didn't care.
Breakfast sat untouched.
Kael kept his hand wrapped around a cold cup.
Raegal hadn't spoken since.
Just sat outside. Staring at nothing.
Alex leaned back in his chair, watching them both.
"We all pretend nothing happened."
"But I know one thing for sure."
He exhaled — a dry chuckle escaping like smoke.
"No one in this house..."
"...is a sane man anymore."