Dry cereal

Buzz! buzz! Groaning Alex flopped over blindly groping at his alarm clock. Alex shot up as cold water seeped into his pajamas. Rubbing his eyes he yanked the cord for the alarm clock out of the wall. He could hear the TV playing in the other room. He briefly wondered what time it was. His heavy closed currents gave no hints. 

"Morning," he mumbled, glancing next to him. He bit his lip. Turning away he got up groaning as his back protested. His own fault for sleeping in a bed too small for his height. Breathing out he made his way to the bathroom. Lightly splashing his face with cool water. Small drops clung to his face and hair. For a moment he thought of bright flowers his wife had once grown out front. Every morning small drops of dew stuck to their delicate leaves. 

Shaking his head he stripped out of his wet pajamas and stepped into the warm embrace of the shower. Steam filled up all around him. Water flowed across his skin as he enjoyed the heat. Sighing to himself he began washing himself, imagining himself washing away the unwanted, the unneeded. 

Stepping out, he pulled on a clean smelling T-shirt and gray dirty looking sweatpants. Sitting down on the bed he rubbed his face yawning. Looking down he spotted a small pink paw. A small smile found its way to his lips as a choked sob ripped itself from his throat. Gently he nudged the paw back under the bed. Where it couldn't be seen. Taking a deep breath he headed to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge he pulled out the milk. Looking across the table into the living room he frowned. The 8 am news played. The weather man talked about mostly rain for the next week. 

"Honey?" He called.

"Yeah dad," called back a voice from somewhere in the living room. 

"Want some breakfast?" He asked as he pulled two bowls from the cabinet. 

"What do we have?" The voice now popped up peering over the back of the couch, seemingly as just a mess of black hair. 

"We have Cheerios and Raisin Bran," he called back, pulling both out. 

"Cheerios, do we have any fruit," The voice slithered off the couch and over to the table. Alex glanced at a large wooden bowl on the counter filled with rotting fruit. Normally he kept it full of fresh fruit from the farmers market down the street.

"No edible fruit," He said, annoyed, "We're going to have to go to town," He said, pouring out the last of the cheerios and milk. 

"Do I have to go?" The mess of black hair now revealed to be wearing a too small faded pink hoodie and black sweatpants. Alex frowned slightly at the hoodie.

"Yes, you remember what happened last time I left you alone," The mess of black hair pulled on the sleeves of the hoodie covering as much of their arms as they could. A small pink scar much too straight to be natural poked out.

"Okay dad," Alex folded the box up, sliding it next to the microwave and the wall. Out from the boxes fell a bright rainbow covered box for lucky charms. Alex watched the box, unable to move. "Dad?" A worried voice drifted to him. 

"Yes Sam?" He asked, looking up, moving past the box but careful not to step on it. He didn't dare touch it. 

"Mom called again," Alex frowned. 

"What did she want?" He asked, pouring Raisin Bran into his bowl. 

"Her and aunt Maria are flying down to pick me up tomorrow," Alex didn't say anything, instead he pulled out two spoons, handing one to Sam. Together they ate in silence. Alex ate his cereal dry.

"Guess we don't need to go shopping," he said quietly. Pouring the rest of the cereal into the garbage. Slowly he began to leave in search of somewhere he could actually feel okay. He doubted there was a place like that in the house any more. 

"Dad?" Alex stopped and looked back. "What are we gonna eat tonight?" Sam looked worried. He had been looking more and more worried lately. Maybe it was a good thing for him to go. 

"You can go over to the Johnsons again," Alex turned away and walked back down the hall. He stopped in front of a door covered in bright crayon drawings feeling his eyes watering. Slowly he opened the door, the hinges screaming their protest. Inside was dark but he could still see the bright flowers covering the walls. Drawings of bugs above the desk. On the bed was a pile of stuffed animals neatly stacked up. Dust floated gently in the air, getting caught in the light flooding into the room from the door. 

Stepping into the room he gently closed the door. The room returned dark. Rain began to spill onto the roof. Slowly unable to stay any longer Alex got up and slipped out of the room. Slowly he walked back to the living room. Sam was buried beneath a blanket watching the rain come down from a seat near the window. 

"Dad," Sam said quietly. 

"Yes?" Alex asked, sitting down on the couch.

"Why does mom hate you?" He couldn't respond. There was nothing to say so instead he began mindlessly flipping through TV channels. 

"Where did you find that hoodie?" Sam shrunk farther into the blanket. 

"I found it when I was doing my laundry," He said it so quietly Alex barely managed to hear it. Alex only hummed, finally settling on a TV show with some loud man yelling about sports. 

"Do you think mom is gonna let me come back?" 

"No, she won't let you come back," Alex answered honestly, "Maybe she'll let me visit," that was a lie. Stacy hated him. She would never let him see Sam. 

"Maybe," Sam said quietly, clearly trying to convince himself the lie was true. Alex's gaze drifted towards the corner where a large toy chest sat. Two butterflies danced across the wood. Nothing peaked out. Instead it sat unnaturally quiet in the corner. The house was too quiet. It was too dark as well. Alex's whole world had grown too far too quiet and far too dark. He doubted the noise or light would come back. Instead he resigned to living quietly in the dark.