Chapter 4 - "Forgive me, Joy."

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Ethan swallowed hard as he slowly rose from bed, the shrill blare of his alarm clock still ringing in his ears. With a swift, angry motion, he slammed his fist down, silencing the machine. The neon display flickered, showing a garbled mess of numbers. He didn’t care.

A chill ran through him, his breath visible in the cold air as he pushed the blankets off. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he yawned, rubbing his face in an attempt to iron out the lingering exhaustion. School, work, and more loomed on the horizon, each task a weight pulling him back toward the warmth of his bed. But there was no going back.

His hands stilled, freezing on his face as the events of the previous night came rushing back. His conversation with Joseph, dealing with an intoxicated David, and the violent clash with Neil. A sigh escaped him, followed by a groan as he buried his fingers in his wavy hair, gripping the loose curls tightly. He didn’t want to go to school, didn’t want to face his peers, didn’t want to deal with the world.

David’s horrified expression flashed in his mind, along with the reprimands that followed his fight with Neil. Yes, Neil had been pressing them, had lost control, and was about to attack Charlotte, but Ethan had gone too far.

His hands dropped to his knees, eyes narrowing as he stared at the floor of his bedroom. The rhythmic sound of glass breaking against flesh echoed in his ears, and he looked down at his red, bloodied knuckles, clenching them into fists before slamming them into the bed. He had descended onto Neil like a wild animal, driven by a primal need to protect David and Charlotte. He had felt unsafe, but he knew he had taken it a step too far.

Neil was older, maybe a year or two, but he was still just a drunk teenager. The part that freaked Ethan out the most was the flashback, the way the air and smell had shifted from the cramped city penthouse to the rural pines of the Alaskan forest. He had been back there, back when his whole life went to hell.

It was the mindset that scared him—the thoughts of his father and defeating a stronger enemy. That old militaristic wisdom had no place outside the battlefield, especially not against a teenage bully.

He had lost his mind, his head. What would have happened if Neil hadn’t stayed down? If he had died? Ethan would have been sent to jail, leaving his family without anyone to care for them. He and David were lucky to have escaped unharmed. Neil wasn’t entirely popular, but he was popular enough.

Ethan’s hands trembled as he stared at them, the blood now dry but the memories fresh. He had to pull himself together. For his family, for his future. He couldn’t let the past control him, couldn’t let it turn him into something he wasn’t.

He stood up, taking a deep breath, and resolved to face the day. He couldn’t change what had happened, but he could control what he did next. And that started with getting up and moving forward, one step at a time.

The only saving grace was that Neil's teammates were either too drunk to realize what had occurred or too freaked out by the savagery they had witnessed. Savagery—that was the word that bloomed in Ethan's mind. He thought back to Joseph’s prior words of friendship and, for a fleeting moment, he had actually believed he had a chance. It made him feel sad, but for a second, he thought that if he tried, then...

"It's the freak."

Lena’s words echoed in his head, and he shook it vigorously, trying to expel the thought. But she wasn’t wrong. He was a freak. He was broken and had almost made a horrible mistake that could have ruined his life.

Their faces brightened up in his memory, but he quickly shook his head again. Before David had called him, he had been doing fine. Now, he was stuck in this situation. His thoughts turned to Charlotte and the look of horror on her face at what he had done.

He shot up from the bed, shaking his head vigorously. He knew everyone would be looking at him now. Before, people just called him weird and unsocial. Now, he would be a freak to everyone. A pit formed in his throat as he began to put on the academy’s uniform.

Tightening his tie around his neck, he emerged from his room, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder as he headed for the door. But then he heard the buzzing of the TV.

"Hey, Ethan," his mother’s voice rose.

He turned to see his mother in her red armchair, his sister nestled against her chest, curled up in her grasp. Ethan glanced at the time on the cable box. His eyes widened as he realized he had only fifteen minutes to get to school. He was going to be late. Yet, his sister had thirty minutes until the bus came to pick her up.

"Joy," he called out. The girl stirred silently. "Joy!" he yelled louder, and her eyes popped open as she stared at him.

"What are you doing?" he snapped, pointing at the cable box. "You’ve got school in less than thirty minutes. Get your clothes on and brush your teeth. You'll have to eat breakfast at school."

His sister stared at him but then glanced back at their mother, shaking her head and curling back into her embrace. His mother’s chin rested on Joy's head.

Ethan’s eyes widened. "Are you kidding me, Joy!" he snapped.

Joy shook her head. "I am not feeling well, Ethan. I don’t want to go."

"Come on," he snapped back. "I know you just don’t want to go to school today. Joy, you have to go."

Joy looked back at him, defiant. "No, Ethan, I really don’t feel well," she insisted, burrowing deeper into their mother’s arms.

Their mother’s eyes, usually so distant, flickered with concern. "Ethan, maybe she really isn’t feeling well," she murmured softly.

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Ethan felt his frustration mounting. "Mom, she’s been saying this every day. She’s skipping school, and it’s going to catch up with her."

His mother’s gaze was weary. "Just give her a break today, Ethan. She’ll go tomorrow."

“No,” Ethan firmly replied.

Joy shook her head again. “I am sick. I do not want to go.” Her voice was resolute, a defiant edge that Ethan recognized all too well.

A vein bulged on Ethan’s forehead as he ran a hand over his face, a shaky breath escaping his lips. “Joy,” he spoke with a deeper, more commanding tone. “Get ready, now.”

He was trying to keep his cool, to be mellow, but it was getting harder. He understood the struggles she faced at school, but Bill’s words echoed in his mind. Her attendance made her safer against any Martian threats. Sure, going to a religious school when you weren’t particularly religious must suck, but it was the best they could afford for her safety.

He had promised his father he would protect his mother and sister, and he would do whatever it took to honor that promise.

“No.”

“What?” He was taken aback. Regaining his composure, he pointed toward her room. “Joy, get ready. Now!” he yelled.

His voice rose, reverberating through the room. Their mother clutched her ears, terror streaking across her face. “Sorry, Mom,” he muttered, turning back to Joy. “You have to go to school today.”

“Why, Ethan?” she challenged. “I don’t want to go today. I’ll go tomorrow or…”

“No, today!” Ethan shot back. “You’ve already used up all your sick days and excused absences. Joy, if you don’t start going, they’ll make you do summer classes or, worse, they’ll make you repeat the grade.”

Joy shook her head again. “I don’t like going there, Ethan. I don’t want to go.”

Ethan sighed, glancing at the clock. He was definitely going to be very late. His bus and train would be gone, and walking would take a long time. If he was lucky, he might make it by late second or third period.

But he had to deal with this first.

“Ethan, I hate it there. Everyone is a religious nutjob, the teachers are mean, and no one wants to talk to me.”

Ethan groaned, rubbing his face. “Joy, we’ve gone over this. It’s important for you to go to this school. The public school shelters aren’t as good. They’re decent, but the private institutions are safer.”

“Have you been to these shelters?” Joy snapped back. “I’ve never been to mine. There’s a rumor that our shelter isn’t fully operational, that the school has been struggling with money to complete it.”

“Joy, that’s ridiculous. How could you even overhear a rumor like that?”

Ethan figured she was just lying to him. How could a kid overhear their teachers discussing such sensitive information?

Joy glared at him, her small frame trembling with a mix of anger and fear. “I heard it, Ethan. I swear.”

“You don’t believe me,” Joy spoke up, anger lacing her words as she glared at her brother. “I don’t have any friends. I legit spend recess right in the corner of my classroom, that’s why they didn’t realize I was there when they were talking.”

“Joy, come on,” Ethan said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Joy sneered, pushing herself off their mother. Their mother tried to grasp her again, but Joy wiggled out of her grip at the last moment.

“I am not going,” she declared.

“Yes, you are!” Ethan snapped.

Joy jumped up and down, slamming her feet on the floor. “No!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “I am not going to a school where no one wants to talk to me! I hate it there!”

Ethan slammed his foot down with such force he could feel the floor rock underneath him. Instantly, his sister and mother fell silent. With gritted teeth, he stormed past them and crouched beneath the TV stand.

“What are you doing?” Joy demanded.

He yanked out the cable and the game console, tucking both under his arm. He marched to the kitchen, popped open the highest cupboard, and shoved them inside. He slammed the cupboard shut and turned back to his sister.

“You’re punished,” he declared. “No TV or video games until I know for a fact that you’re doing better at school. You’re not going to that school to socialize, but to be safe.”

His eyes locked onto his mother. She just stared at them, a vacant look in her eyes. For a brief moment, Ethan had hoped something in her would snap, that she’d push through the fogginess in her mind once she saw this. How could she not realize? Did she not see how much he was suffering? How much his sister needed their mother? How much he needed her?

He shook his head, squashing the foolish thoughts. He realized then that he was all he had. His friends, his family—they couldn’t understand or solve his problems. Ever since he was eleven and saw his dad die on the snowfields of Alaska, cut down by strange Martian weaponry, he knew that in the end, he was all he had.

They were born alone, and they die alone. In the end, the only person he could rely on was himself, and this was just proof of that. He sneered, gritting his teeth, and grabbed his backpack from beside the door, throwing it over his shoulder.

He turned to see his sister seething, shaking from head to toe as she stared him down. But Ethan didn’t care anymore. This was too much for him, and he was done. Everything was becoming too much.

Ethan shook his head. “Listen, Joy,” he spoke, his voice hard. “You go to school today, that will be a step forward in getting your stuff back. Don’t go to Mom or try to convince her to give it back because then I’ll know. Just go…”

Joy’s eyes flashed with defiance, but she said nothing. Ethan opened the door and walked out, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like a vice. He had to be strong for both of them, even if it meant being the bad guy.

Ethan tried to put more weight in his voice towards the end, but it came out almost like a whisper. His throat hurt, and the earlier exhaustion was now starting to really dawn on him. He was too tired and felt far too weak.

He opened the door, and the moment he took a step outside, he heard it. “I fucking hate you, Ethan! You think you can boss me around! You're not my dad!” His sister's voice rose and cut through the air, tears streaming down her face as she pointed at him. “I wish…I wish, I wish you were the one that died in Alaska!”

The words graced Ethan’s ears like a physical blow. He stared at his sister, his eyes wavering as the biting tears threatened to spill over. Yet, he just closed the door behind him with a bang. Wiping the faint strands of tears that escaped his eyes, he continued down the hall, each step feeling heavier than the last.

His head throbbed as he made his way down the stairs and emerged into the cold morning air. The earlier exhaustion swiftly drained away, replaced by the biting cold that tustled through his hair. His eyes lifted towards the sky, spotting the outline of the Martian ships. They were closer now.

Before, they were merely silhouettes in the atmosphere, but now they were close enough to be mistaken for planes on the horizon. Their strange, blocky shapes were visible in far greater detail. They were very close now. Ethan shook his head and continued down the path to school. Even as people stared and pointed, he didn’t care.

His sister's words echoed within his head, a painful refrain he couldn't silence. His eyes locked towards the sky once again, where those ships hovered menacingly on the horizon. “Me too, Joy. Me too,” he murmured, his voice lost in the cold wind.

As he walked, the memories of Alaska flooded back. The snow, the cold, the fear. His father’s last moments, the chaos of battle. He could almost hear the screams, the gunfire, and the alien sounds of Martian weaponry. He had survived, but sometimes he wondered if it would have been better if he hadn't. His father was a hero, a man who had given everything. And what was Ethan? A kid trying to keep a family together, trying to live up to a promise that seemed impossible to keep.

The Martian ships loomed larger, and with them, the weight of everything he carried. Responsibility, fear, guilt. It was all too much. But he kept walking, one foot in front of the other, because what else could he do? He had to keep going. For Joy. For his mother. For the memory of his father.

And for himself.