She’s sitting on the island, legs dangling, eating the last of my cereal. Drowning in my plain white T, tousled hair falling haphazardly, shaggy bangs in her eyes. I can still see the shiner, her scabbed lip, and those fucking bruises trailing both of her arms. Her poor feet.
“Good morning.” She always did have the sweetest sounding voice.
I just stare at her, unsure of what to say back. It’s not so much that I want to have a conversation, I just want her tell me everything so that after I’m done listening I can go and break that asshole’s neck.
[Rhys]
“Blue…” I have that apprehensive whine going on. With the name alone I’m begging him to drop what he’s just suggested.
It’s been years since I called him that. The nicknames stopped after Gabe died and I met Isaac. From then on it was always ‘Justin.’ Hi Justin, How are you Justin, Please stop giving me money Justin.
But he‘s furious. “Don’t!” It’s only ten in the morning, he’s just woken up and in five minutes tops I’ve managed to make him furious. It’s an annoying tendency that I have, this tendency to thoroughly piss off guys.
I want to say something else, but the truth is I don’t need him to defend me. I just needed a shoulder to cry on and now I’m good.
He’s pacing. “Don’t call me that, don’t act like this shit is about to slide again… because it’s not. I can’t live with myself. Have you looked in the fucking mirror? He fucked you up. It hurts to look at you… you’re so fucking gorgeous, it hurts Rhys. Your brother would have my fucking balls if he saw you right now.” Rambling, muttering, he’s ranting more to himself than he is to me.
And it’s wrong to interject; clearly, he‘s not just angry, he’s trying to sort out some deep-seated issues, but I can’t help it. In this moment I really don’t want to think about what Gabe would or wouldn‘t have. “Please, don’t bring Gabe into this.”
“Don’t bring Gabe into this? If one of my best friends was the only one left to look after my baby sister I would cut his fucking dick off if he ever let things get so bad that she actually looked the way you do right now.”
Scoff. Roll eyes. Here we go with the morning-after-lecture.
“Are you seriously rolling your eyes at me? Are you being serious right now? Why do you always protect this motherfucker, Rhys?”
“I’m not protecting him!” But I am.
“You are! I tell you, ‘Stay here, don’t go back, Trace and I will handle this.’ I begged you last time. And what do you always do? You go back! You make me promise to ‘stay out of it’ and then go running back like a dumbass! But you‘re not dumb, Baby. You‘re not dumb, you‘re my baby, you‘re Gabe‘s baby sister.”
I can’t look at him, the tears are searing my vision. I limp over to the sink and try distracting myself by washing out my bowl, but I have to say it. “If I can’t call you Blue, you can’t call me Baby. I’m not kid anymore, Justin. I don’t need you and Trace to ‘handle’ anything, I just need a friend. Okay? I just… need… a friend, not a fucking knight in shining armor.”
A deafening shatter.
Running water.
Pieces of porcelain scattered in the sink.
