Stone Circle Please do not push me away

His mother's face remained impassive of anything that would fuel suspicion, and her words might have tempered his question, if he allowed himself to believe them. A vengeful side of him didn't want to, but Merrit knew he had a choice. That the trajectory of this confrontation would either spin them down a downward spiral along an irreversible path, or turn him toward the uphill climb to the restoration of what had been broken between them.

Merrit held his ground, impassible as the wind tousled them both with an icy bite, as he raked his narrowed gaze across her, unmoving, undecided. He felt, very deeply, an ache in the crook of his chest, and he stood on the precipice between two very hard and painful falls. Did he even want to trust her? He wanted to be angry - but he knew he loved her - he knew he still cared - and even now, when he looked at her, he caught a glimpse of reality even when he didn't try, the reality of his mother again - of the softness of her face, and the familiarity of her gaze - and slowly the sharpness of his eyes caved to something a little less severe.

He didn't speak right away, but when he did, his voice was level and still. "Do you think father's dead?" He had never asked the question before - he had never thought to - but in the face of all that was changing like sand, he longed for understanding now; for answers he wasn't even sure she had. "If we'd had someone in the family to heal him, do you think he'd still be with us now?"