Young Blood
They were at it again. It was a weekly ritual — the wild-eyed threats, the yelling, fists held high in menace. Mats was perched on the edge of the dining room chair, gaze mesmerized by the two of them, bare foot sliding up and down along the worn lacquer of the leg. The repetitive movement was in vain, a failed attempt at trying to reduce all outside sensory stimuli, to reduce the ache they caused in her chest. Their voices were muffled, a rise and fall of ominous tones she’d heard too many times before, suffocated under the pressure that was slowly building behind those green eyes. Stop. Her jaw tightened as she glanced at the old glass of whiskey that sat on the table. Doug’s glass. It was always his glass. Slender digits gripped it almost violently as she tipped back the shot that was left. Maybe it would help the throbbing in her brain, caused from either her night out or their arguing, very probably the combination of the two. It was then gingerly held in front of her, eyes staring through it at the two of them, rippled and distorted. Here’s to fucking family.
It felt like she was about to explode, the tension pushing against her temples — she just wanted them to be quiet. “Stop.” It was said out loud this time, feebly, quiet, hoping they would just listen, that she wouldn’t need to raise her voice. She knew if she did it would all pour out of her, parts breaking off, stomach opening to forcefully discard the toxins inside. But of course, they were too wrapped up in their words, their hands, with muscles tense as they tried to restrain from doing what they were so very good at. Her foot pressed harder against the wood, the flakes almost tearing at her skin as she tried to fight off her own emotions for the sake of theirs, for the sake of her own fucking sanity. They weren’t as subdued anymore; it was getting louder, flooding her head with every insult. “Seriously…” The next words came out louder, scratching at her throat, knowing full well she would get the attention of them both, intending for them to, praying they would just listen, “Shut the fuck up! Just shut up!” The glass was thrown at the bar that separated the kitchen, where they stood, from the dining room she sat in, shattering upon impact and littering the floor with the crystallized shards. They froze in response to her outburst, Luke with an eye-brow raised in troubled consideration, Doug with his mouth open in mild surprise, all four eyes on her awaiting an explanation, her own input to their destructive actions and words. Maybe a reason for her own. They always looked so similar standing next to each other…
Instead all they got was a sigh before she managed to use all her strength to push her weight up from her seated position and stalk off to her room, shutting the door tiredly behind her. She needed to get away. Her hands pressed against her dresser, leaning in toward the mirror to squint at her own reflection. Cheekbones were coal smeared from her eyeliner, remnants of the blue from her shadow appearing vaporous and glittery against her skin. Her night was literally written on her face, the memories of her escape a series of foggy photographs. It was all she could to do separate herself; partaking in nights filled with alcohol, drugs, dancing, and the company of people who had no idea who she really was. It was the paradisiacal retreat — no expectations, no responsibility.
There was a knock at her door, a shadow of a figure appearing in the frame without another warning. She already knew it was Luke; he never waited for an invitation at times like these. “Look… ” A sigh of frustration. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was combing his fingers through his mess of hair, trying to find the right words to say. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” She refused to tear her gaze away from herself, using it as an anchor to keep herself perfectly planted, to prevent her emotions from flowing over her entire body and crippling her balance.
“I’m fine. I need to change. Just go.”
“Mats…” He began to take a step inside, but was hesitant. He always was when it came to her, never wanting to overstep his boundaries. At least he knew well enough to have some.
“I said I am fine. Go.” A sharp glance was directed at him, a warning that if he didn’t depart then, she might not be able to hold it in any longer. And she had desperately, desperately wanted to. School began in an hour; she needed time to compose herself. She had to be that collected little Haden everyone thought they knew so well.
“Alright. Alright… You- ” A pause. “Ah, I’ll see you later.” The door shut quietly behind him. He’d be off to do the same, muttering explanations at Doug, not caring about the response. She loved Luke fiercely and appreciated everything he did for her. Without him, she would have been nothing. She would have been that little helpless girl left alone without a mother and a father who wasn’t strong enough to fight against his own disease. She might have said “I love you” but she knew she didn’t need to, nor did he. They said it enough in their glances, hinting at the emotion that was always so carefully placed. They didn’t need words. Luke had spent his entire life figuring out exactly how to use as little as possible — anyway for him to hide what he was feeling from the outside world. Matson understood that better than anyone. It was comforting to be in the presence of him, to know someone of such strength was on her side.
Now all she needed to do was muster up some of her own.
