Troubles

Living Room

Ray should be proud of me.

Brian definitely won't. My bruised and split lip is somewhat impossible to hide; the black eye easier; but the deep cut in my chin and the scratch marks on my forehead are gonna be there for weeks. Brian will notice. And the injuries will remind me of how badly I failed.

I exit the bathroom and go sit in the living room. I managed to avoid Brian when I got back, but I know he'll be up soon: I heard him roll down the gate just a few seconds ago.

I can't do anything but face his reactions. I can already imagine him being angry and upset and worried and disappointed, and even amused. He'll think I'm weak for not defending myself.

The door opens and his footsteps make their way through the apartment. I hear him enter the kitchen and open the fridge. He closes it quickly, the bottles and cans in the door jangling. I hear him come towards the living room, but he makes a turn into his bedroom without casting one glance at me in the living room. He turns on the lights above his bed and doesn't seem to do anything for a while – at least a minute.

That minute seems to last forever, because I just sit there, silently with my entire body tense and aching, staring at his open bedroom door. Yet, when that minute is up, I wish I had another.

He appears in the doorway, but doesn't look up. He's got some magazine or book in his hands, but I don't notice exactly what it is, because I just keep waiting for him to look at me. I'm just waiting for this upcoming conversation to be over with; I just wanna go to bed and end this day.

He doesn't look at me until he's stopped in front of the couch.

“What should we,” he says, looks up and then stops mid-sentence when he sees me.

I feel like I've been punched in my stomach for the fourth time today: Brian looks so shocked that I can't help but feel shocked as well.

“What happened?”

Brian walks around the couch and sits down next to me. He grabs my jaw tightly, squishing my cheeks, and turns my head sharply. I suppress a wince, and instead just squeeze my eyes shut.

“Who did this? How did this happen?”

I feel like backing out and just tell him that the beating was pointless violence. It's too embarrassing to tell him about the whole story. It's not only hard to explain, but also awkward and shameful. But I know he's gonna find out the truth eventually.

I might as well tell him.

“I got in a fight,” I start and open my eyes.

The look in Brian's eyes scares me. He looks so pissed. For a moment, there's this expression in his eyes that reminds me of the one Ned (I heard one of the guys yell at him to hit me harder) had right before he stepped down on my foot so hard that I'm still afraid that something might be broken in it.

I swallow hard and then completely chicken out. I can't tell him if he gets this angry with me.

“You what?”

I just sit there, quiet and not moving a muscle. Brian softens his stare at me, pulling aside my t-shirt to look at the bruise on my collar bone and the cut in my shoulder. My body is aching, but I can't relax. If this becomes a fight or flight situation, I'm ready to make a run for it.

“Tell me” he says resolutely, then grabs my arm and examines it. I can't seem to inhale properly as he pushes up my sleeve and touches the healing scars and new cuts and bruises.

I draw in a short, shaky breath that just seems to tighten up my airways even further.

“Some of these are old,” he says disbelievingly, looking at me as if I've lied to him. I open my mouth to correct him.
“How many times have you been in these fights.” He's frowning deeply, looking at me with amazement, worry and anger in his eyes.
“Who are they?” He lets go of my arm.
“Tell me!” he yells, startling me. I jump visibly and pull my arm into my chest. The anger takes over his mind, it seems, and my breath catches in my throat.
“I'm gonna call that school,” he mumbles through clenched teeth, tearing his angry stare away from me and grabbing the home phone off the coffee table. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, and it isn't until he's out of sight that I exhale shakily and feel my body buckle.

I feel so betrayed. Brian just yelled at me; he's so angry with me. He hates me.

I can't breathe right and I begin to shake with every exhale. I can hear my short, harsh and sudden breaths loudly ringing out in the silent room.

Brian suddenly reenters the living room with heavy footsteps. He has the phone to his ear. I look up at him and get dizzy. I can feel tears press against the edges of my eyes, but they won't tilt over. I feel empty.

Suddenly, my breathing isn't as harsh and sudden anymore; it's just slow and... shallow. I can't even feel it.

Brian points at me.

“If I find out you started any of this, I'll,” he hesitates, squeezes his jaw tightly shut, stares at me with fury in his eyes, then ends the sentence altogether and goes into his bedroom.
I just sit there for a while, staring at the open door and trying to figure out what actually just happened. I know what happened, but it's all suddenly so blurry and obscured in my memory that all I can remember is a harsh feeling of loathing towards me. I've suddenly become a nuisance – again. He hates me.

I'm still barely breathing as I stand up and walk out of the living room. I'm suddenly so tired that all I can think about is my bed: to just lie under the sheets, where it doesn't even matter that I'm still completely dressed, but where I can just lie down and sleep and get this day over with. I just want this day to end already.
♠ ♠ ♠
I'm so sorry it's been so long.
I've been kinda discouraged to write and been on a mental vacation altogether, but I think I'm ready to continue this story - and then, hopefully, the others will follow. =)
It took me a while to write this chapter, because I didn't quite feel it, but tonight I did and basically rewrote the whole thing: for you. =)
Thank you all for your patience. =D