You could at least let your appetite reflect it.
The words ring around Chris' brain in a cacophony of sound. The seventeen year old could only stare down his father blankly, equally surprised and afraid, but the words wouldn't come. He can't admit it. He can't admit that he does feel it, but this is the world now. They have to adapt and overcome. If Travis couldn't understand… Chris knows well enough to not delude himself into thinking Brandon and Derek wouldn't kill him just because Chris asked them. They'd kill Travis, and then Chris would be alone. Without approval. And without a father.
He couldn't – no, he won't let that happen. If Chris hadn't shot James, then they could have all been killed. He did what he had to do. Yet, that doesn't keep his mind from spinning in circles when Chris decided to ditch his father. If his mother would have known Travis would only bring him down, then he has no doubts that she'd side with him now. Right?
Goddamn you, Chris!!
The last words his father said to him almost made him jump out of the truck. Almost. Instead, they scream at him, and beg him, but Chris couldn't allow himself to care. They're better off without him. Now, Travis has no excuse but to run back to Madison, gis perfect girlfriend, and forget he ever had a biological son. They could focus on Nick's drama, and perfect Alicia instead of looking at him like he's some kind of monster destined to destroy their lives.
Chris stares off into the distance, replaying the look of betrayal in Travis' eyes, before he shakes them off. The look of disgust, the disappointment. None of it matters now. Besides, he can't turn back now. He's been gone for an hour, and Travis probably wouldn't be there if he went back.
"Hey, buddy. You gonna keep staring off at your old man like a sad little puppy, or do you wanna drive?" Brandon shouts over the loud music blasting from the radio.
Chris turns to face him with a wide grin, long gone were the thoughts about his father, and if he had made the right choice.
"Hell yeah, I wanna drive."
Chris tries not to let his anxiety show; after all, he's only ever driven once. In fact, it was just a few days ago with Travis. Not now, he thinks, and instead slips into the driver's seat. Derek, having been kicked to the back by the tailgate, sits with a grumpy looking face, but Chris blocks that out, too. He can barely focus as is with the music. It's too distracting; it takes his mind off Travis, yes, but it also takes his mind away from the road.
It's exhilarating. Speeding down the seemingly empty countryside. Mexico is beautiful, Chris decides. It's too bad his only memories here are of death and destruction.
"So," Chris calls over the music, glancing over at Brandon out of the corner of his eye. "What happens when we get to your safe haven in San Diego?"
Brandon turns to look at Chris with a mischievous grin, although that was lost on Chris; if he had just taken his eyes off the road, he would have seen the scheming look in Brandon's eyes. If, if, if, but he hadn't.
"Just drive man." Brandon chuckles. "You'll see it when we get there."
Chris nods. It is plausible. Besides, Chris doesn't really wanna push his luck. If something were to go wrong, he'd be alone. He'd have nothing and nobody. He has to trust in this. To believe it will all work out, and to have faith. The result if it isn't is too catastrophic to dwell on.
He takes his eyes off the road for only a second. Just a second. It's amazing how long a second could feel like, as if Chris is an outsider looking in. The second was all it took for everything to go to hell, when Brandon grabs the wheel, jerking it out of Chris' hand; grabbing Chris' head and slamming it into the steering wheel. Blood pours from his now broken nose, when Brandon lets go of the wheel altogether.
One second.
His surprised yell gets lost in the wind.
One second.
The truck's brakes squeal as he slams on them, but it's too late. He can't control it.
One second.
Chris watches helplessly, screaming, as the truck wraps itself around a tree; it doesn't stop. It flips and rolls, bringing Chris' body to fly out of his seat and back in it again, and again, each time the truck rolls. He can't hear anything. He knows he's screaming, but it sounds foreign even to his own ears.
One second.
That was all it took for Chris' world to crash down around him. Time seemingly stands still, as shock courses through his veins as he's thrown out of his seat again, collapsing through the windshield, bloody and broken. His eyes close involuntarily, blinking continuously to stay awake, but it's no use.
Dad was right.
— — — — —
Chris comes to in a blaze of fire. The horrendous smoke fills his lungs and nostrils, and a strong sweet smell he can't exactly identify. Antifreeze, his muddled brain thinks, but he can't focus. Ash covers his body where he lay only ten feet away from the burning inferno; the truck.
Brandon and Derek are gone.
They left him. Defenseless. With nothing but the soot covered clothing on his back and a bruised and battered body. He blinks back the tears filling his eyes as he struggles to his feet, pain surrounding him like a fence of determination. Desperation had never felt so angry.
They will pay.
From the ashes, I rise.