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my veins. I want to turn it off, but all I can think is I've been kicked out of the one place I thought I'd always be welcome in.

"I hope your dream is worth all this trouble."

She’s normally on my side, but I understand what she’s implying: my decision to drop out has dented our parents’ relationship further. It was a good week for them, too; the fighting had somehow fizzled out and Dad was even in a better mood.

Mum stomps into the living room.

"I’m going up to revise." Tamara excuses herself. She glares at me before she disappears.

Mum enters the living room, sits on the couch, and pats on the empty space beside her, and I take a seat. "Your Dad overreacts. You must understand he is that way because at one point in his life, he…" she pats my hand, and in a softer tone, she continues, "he was begging for spare change on the streets. He doesn’t want any of his children to feel the way he did."

My mouth drops open a bit. Dad out on the streets, begging? I can’t even imagine it.

"It was the lowest point in his life," she continues. "He doesn’t want you to know, but I think you should.

"He thinks that having a Uni degree will help you find a proper job that will allow you to earn well, so you’ll never have to end up on the streets."

We sit in silence. Mum lets her words sink in. If only she’d told me this earlier, it would have saved us loads of fights.

"I don’t want you and Dad to fight anymore," I begin.

She shrugs. "Fighting is part of any marriage. I’d be worried the day we stop talking to each other."

"Not the way you two have been fighting. That’s not normal."

She smiles, but I can tell how exhausted she is. She takes my hand and looks me in the eye. "There are things in this world worth fighting for. Your happiness is one of them."

My heart wants to explode from Mum’s selflessness. "What about your happiness?" I ask.

"I am happy if my children are."

"You still love Dad, don’t you?"

"Of course, darling. I’ll always love him. We just don’t get on the way we used to… That’s all. And I won't let him kick you out of your own home."

I pull her into a hug and my shoulder dampens as Mum’s body crumples against me. I can’t even remember the last time I hugged her like this.

#

In the end, Dad stood his ground. There were times that Mum was able to convince his stubborn brain to change, but not this time.

It was the final word: go to Uni or don't come home.

I didn’t know what else to do, but to come here. There was too much anger in my system to face Dad again—maybe because he voiced out my inner demons. To hear Dad say those things aloud validates my insecurity.

Can’t you do anything right?

The whipping wind slaps my face. I look down at my guitar and my callused fingertips brush the metallic strings. It smells like blood and the trees are dark silhouettes against a sinister sky.

Even though the Westwood country park in Beverley is a tourist attraction, I can always find a quiet place to let my thoughts overflow. I shuffle minor key chords to fit the mood and close my eyes. I let my emotions fuel the music…let them dictate where my fingers go.

Anger.

Rejection.

Sadness.

Regret.

I let my tank explode until it runs dry. As a state of relief and normalcy begins to creep back, I know the music has done its job. I let my fingers continue their rapture and ad-lib.

"Oi!" Eric’s loud voice echoes throughout the field as he bounces toward me. "Mr. Stroppy!"

I crack a smile.

"Take it you told your parents?" Benji inquires as he sits on the bench.

I nod. "It’ll be my fault if they bust up. Not exactly good news."

"It’s been a long time coming if they do and you know it." Eric points at me. But what he says doesn’t lighten the guilt.

"I didn’t ease their situation either," I say. "I’m not I allowed to go home, according to my father."

"What?" Eric shouts. "Your own Dad kicked you out of the house?"

I nod. Is it ironic how Dad doesn’t want me to end up on the streets, but kicks me out of the house anyway? I don’t understand him.

"I'm sorry to hear to hear that, mate." Benji says and sits beside me on the ground.

"It’s just like your Dad to do something like this," Eric says. "You can stay with me. I've more than enough room."

"Thank you," I say and give Eric a weak smile.

"And if Eric gets too much to handle, you can stay with me too," Benji adds.

"Oi!" Eric shouts, shoving Benji to the side.

"So why did you decide not to go to Uni anyway?" Benji asks. "You could have shifted to Music Studies."

"I owe it to myself to try out a career in music and really immerse myself. The Hush Society’s made me realize that and, well, Cassie invited me to join them this summer. I want you two to come with me."

"No shit." Benji laughs in disbelief.

"Hold up," Eric says. "Join, how?"

"As performers," I clarify. "When we were tuning the instruments at The Verve, didn’t you feel like we fit? Like we were meant to play together? Let’s form a band."

A spark goes off in Eric’s eyes.

Benji speaks up first. "That’s great you want to start a new band, but how exactly does not going to Uni coincide with joining The Hush Society? It's not exactly the best option to not have a degree. You’ll always be able to pursue music on the side." Ah, Benji, always trying to reason with me.

"That’s just it, innit?" I begin. "I don’t want it to be something I do in my spare time or on weekends anymore. I need to commit to this fully if I’m ever going to succeed. I have to try.

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