Hand of Blood

Brianne's point of view.

After I had seen Matt for the last time, I didn't move from my spot on the grass in the garden. It wasn't until the cold evening air had started to bother my bare arms, and I finally couldn't cry anymore for myself, or for him, that I grudgingly took myself back into the house. I had made a point of avoiding looking anywhere else but the floor as I passed through, not even registering if there were people in the room or not, and heading straight up to my bedroom. I didn't particularly feel like talking to anyone at all, whether it would be my mothers kind words, or Spencer's disapproving grunts.

By now it was well into the late hours, having already gone 10 and fast approaching 11pm. For the past good few hours I had been lying on my back, on the floor and wrapped in my huge duvet, staring into space. That was until I became aware that I hadn't eaten anything since lunch, and needless to say, I was starving. It did take a while before I decided to do anything about it though, first deciding to change into my pj trousers and a tank top, making myself a little more comfortable and ready for a long night of moping around in my room. After grabbing everything that had been in my jeans pockets, transferring it to my new trousers by default, I headed out on my food hunt.

As I made my way down the stairs, I was a little surprised by how quiet the house was. I could only assume that that meant Spencer was still out since this afternoon, no doubt drowning himself in drink and saying horrible things about me or Matt to his friends in the pub. It was weird for me to criticize him for that. It wasn't like I had never done the same.

I paused for a moment as I peered into the living room, a familiar yet long-lost sight meeting my gaze. There were candles, scented from what I could gather, scattered around the dark living room on every available surface, creating a peaceful, soft atmosphere. My Mother was sitting in her own little world on the sofa, book in hand and reading glasses perched on her nose. I couldn't help but smile to myself contently, a spark in me growing. I hadn't seen her have a moment to herself like this in so long. Not for a year, at least. It was a good sign, and almost reassuring. Maybe I honestly had made the right choice, rather than just trying to convince myself I had.

After a moment of observing, I slowly wandered into the room, walking behind the sofa as I headed for the kitchen. My presence was noted however, Mother's eyes falling on me for a split second glance, before returning to the book. She then done a double take, this time her eyes fixing on me, smiling.

"Oh, Brianne, honey," she started sincerely, making me stop as I reached the kitchen doorway, looking back. "How about we have a chat, love? It seems like forever since we've had a heart to heart," she sighed lightly, looking over her glasses at me. "If you're not busy, of course!" She added quite hurriedly, making me smile.

"No, sure thing," I said easily, watching the smile inch its way across her lips. "I'll just grab something to eat."

She inclined her head sharply, a slightly jittery-happiness flowing from her as she turned back to her book. I watched her in slight amusement for a moment, before turning into the kitchen and starting a hunt through the recently restocked cupboards.

A couple of minutes later, an almost over flowing cereal bowl in hand, I wandered back into the living room and sat myself down at the other end of the sofa to Mother. I took a large spoonful of the flakes, waiting until she was ready while my eyes observed her carefully. She folded over the corner of the page she was on before gently setting the book on the arm of the chair, also placing her glasses on top. She then shifted her body around slightly, so she was facing towards me rather than away. As swallowed what was already my third mouthful, I smiled at her lightly.

"So what's up?" I asked nonchalantly, my gaze falling as I stirred the cereal in the bowl carefully.

"Oh, what makes you think anything is?" She asked softly, puzzle flashing across her face. "I was just wondering what you got up to while we were away... And you know, I don't think I've seen that Matt around before."

I paused, spoon centimeters from my open mouth as she said it, a little surprised by her getting to the point so suddenly. It took a few extra seconds before the spoon actually connected, and I slowly started to chew to gain me a little thinking time. So it was that talk, was it?

"Mmm," I started, my eyes once again on the bowl in my hands. "I met him a while ago."

"He seems like a nice boy," she said, a genuine smile on her lips as she stared off slightly into space. I watched her blankly for a moment before nodding slowly when her hazy gaze returned to me, piling the spoon up again.

"Yeah, he's cool," I said in a neutral tone, continuing through my midnight snack. There was a notable pause after my comment, which would have been uncomfortable if my attention wasn't on the bowl in my hand. The conversation was hardly flowing, which only meant one thing. It wasn't going in the direction Mother wanted.

"And in a band, huh?" She added out of the blue, but none the less leaving me to nod obediently. I also couldn't hide the smile that slowly snuck across my lips as I thought about all of the guys. There was all too clearly a dull ache of sadness, too.

"Yeah," I enforced again, smiling meekly down at my nearly empty bowl. "They're really good."

She seemed to brighten up slightly. "Ah, well that's nice then," she said in a cheery tone, my eyes suspiciously falling over her with a raised eyebrow. She chuckled lightly at my questioning expression, waving it off and not making eye contact, in that same slightly erratic nature. We still weren't there yet, and I couldn't help but ask where the hell we were going with this at all. No examining my situation would help, because she was all too clearly skating around the main subject.

After another minute or so, I drained the milk left in the bowl before leaning forward to place it on the floor. Not another word had gone between us. I sighed inwardly as I shuffled back onto the sofa, turning my body so I was facing Mother completely, resting my back against the arm of the chair. I was going to have to be blunt, I could feel it.

"Mam, what's wrong?" I asked simply, folding my legs up underneath me before resting my hands in my lap. She seemed slightly taken back by my question, as if it was the strangest thing I could have asked. As if it didn't make sense.

"Now Brianne, nothings wrong," she started, in a very clipped and unconvincing tone.

"... But?" I pushed, hearing the word on the tip of her tongue.

She sighed lightly, her fingers knotting together in her lap. "But? Well... Oh Bri, I don't want you to think I'm being a pain."

I frowned as I watched her eyes darting away from mine. We were getting there, slowly. "Honestly, don't worry about it," I eased. "What's up?"

She dropped her gaze instantly, and I could see her fighting with her thoughts. Trying to make the words come out in such a way that I wouldn't get angry at her, or however else she thought I would react. This wasn't a heart to heart, this was more of a confession. At least from where I was sitting.

"I just... Be careful," she blurted quickly, before pausing. Now she had forced herself to start, she would have to continue. "With, well, young men, you know? From bands and... W-well in general really, of course, Bri," she rushed with a chuckle breaking off her words that weren't quite in a sensible order. My eyebrows knitted together as I tilted my head, intrigued not by her words, but by how she was acting. Why was she finding this so difficult?

"You don't... You can never really know what they're like, can you?" She finished much more slowly and calmly, yet with a warm smile. I could hear her appealing to me to for support of her comment in her tone. I was still a little confused, but it was all much clearer. She was just concerned for me, that was all. About the big wide world, and all the men in it who would abuse you, I guessed. The guys who were worse than Jay. The guys in the clubs, with the nice smiles. But of course, that was what all Mothers worried about when their teenage daughters found friends in the opposite sex. She just seemed to find it a little awkward.

"It's okay, Mam," I said lightly, shaking my head slowly as a smile claimed my face. "I know these things," I assured, making my tone as bright as possible, so she would think I was fine with it. Hell, I was fine with this. I don't know why she was so worked up about it.

She let out a sigh, apparently relieved by my reaction. "Well, that's good, Brianne. I just want you to be careful."

I grinned and inclined my head. "Always am," I chirped, making her laugh softly and approvingly. I smiled as I watched her, for just a split second the air crystal clear, and as comforting as it should be. A little light of hope in this old broken home I had been in for years.

It was crushed almost as soon as it was achieved.

My smile faltered as I heard the front door slam violently, shaking on it hinges. My head snapped round as did Mothers, in time to see Spencer tumbling into the room, hatred and liquor vehemently glowing in his eyes. He was drunk. He was very drunk. And apparently, he had been listening to Mother and I's 'heart to heart'. He wasn't impressed to say the least.

"Be careful?" He spoke loudly while he chuckled, shaking his head as his unforgiving eyes ripped me to pieces. I glared back at him immediately, my body suddenly on alert. He was so far gone, I would be lying to say I wasn't intimidated. However, it didn't take long before my shock and moment of fright in my system was replaced by a reciprocal anger. He was truly ridiculous.

I noticed Mothers deep frown as she also watched the man before us. The man she supposedly loved. "Spencer, don't start-"

"And why shouldn't I, Jenifer?" He interrupted, turning his heated gaze onto her. "Why shouldn't I start? Because I'm sure she was plenty careful with those bunch of thugs," he mocked, his eyes on me again in seconds, the twisted smile growing. My eyes narrowed further, but all my looks were like water off a ducks back to him. As long as my tongue was held fast, Spencer wouldn't stop. I knew he wouldn't stop.

"Were you? Careful, were you? While you slept around in the house we raised you in?" He continued to question. His tone has started sickeningly sweet as he sugar coated the harsh words, but it quickly became much colder as he took another step into the room. "When you played your role as the little whore, was it fun?" He growled lowly, his eyes burning straight into mine.

My teeth were firmly planted in my lip, the pain building doing little to distract me. This was the true side I was only waiting to see. He hadn't even made a week, before he was pushed off the edge. I was stupid to believe things would change. Unless I lived in a bubble, then there would always be far too many variables for him to latch onto. Unless I lived my life alone and locked in my room, there would always be a problem.

"I bet you fucked them all in our bed, like the filth you people are."

Mother was deathly quiet in the room where only Spencer's voice was possessing, vibrating off the walls and consuming us all while I refused to listen. My eyes briefly flickered over to my side, to see Mothers eyes helplessly watching over the drunk before us, not even a frown on her face anymore. Just blank. She wouldn't do or say a thing to stop him. She couldn't. She wasn't strong enough, and so we'd all fall back into our routine. The Mother who shys away and believes every lie, fearing to connect with her daughter because of the man who pulls the strings. Who wants me out.

"I didn't sleep with any of them," I whispered sternly, turning to make my eyes lock with Spencer's. I couldn't bare this anymore. I couldn't bare to watch him torture my Mother once again. I was through with this.

He grinned widely, apparently glad I was finally reacting. "Of course you didn't," he spat, glaring at me. "Six of them, were there? Or just the five for you?"

"It wasn't like that," I defended weakly in an almost child-like tone, my scowl reflecting my voice.

He scoffed, his eyes traveling the room in false amazement. "Wasn't like that? Well fuck me, don't you take after your Mam! So then, are you proud, Jen, my dearest? Now your daughter is just like-"

"That's enough, Spencer."

My eyes widened suddenly as my head snapped to the side, shocked by the ice in Mothers voice. My eyes settled on her in amazement, as she was suddenly on her feet, hands clenched by her sides, staring down Spencer. I wasn't sure what surprised me the most; the fact she had said something, or the fact that Spencer seemed to have finally hit the limit. It was slightly surreal to realise that Mother was taking a stand. Had he hit a nerve?

A sickening smirk edged its way over Spencer's expression as he looked over her. It appeared all the more sinister in the flickering candle light. "Oh, no, you wouldn't like me saying that," he said lowly, with a chuckle. "Wouldn't want to ruin your perfect world, Jen."

I glanced between the two at a loss of what to do, a mutual glare hovering them. My emotions were mixing so far it was becoming hard to think straight, and make sense of my situation. The confusion and anger, yet admiration for my Mother. The questions flying through my head and the reasons to why this was happening. I didn't know what to do next. I didn't know what was going to happen next. It was unnerving to me.

Spencer snorted in amusement, before his eyes lazily rolled over to me. "So I got it right. That punk was here to pay you what he owed, I suppose," he started with that smirk never falling.

"No," I mumbled as I shook my head slowly, not making sense of this. Throw Matt into the equation, and my thoughts were running so far away from me I stood no hope to catch them. I could feel tears stinging the back of my eyes as I desperately tried to see sense. I could have got away from this all, and never looked back. But what was this? I wasn't sure anymore; a broken home, a broken partnership, or just a fucked up kid ruining the lives of a happy couple? Was it really all my fault?

"No? I bet he wanted his money back then, of course he would,"

"Stop it," I whispered feebly, bringing my hands up to rest either side of my head. I tried to block out his hurtful words, that had finally broken through my defences. I could still hear him, though, loud and clear.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it, Brianne," Spencer sneered, knowing full well he was winning.

"Spencer!" Mother scolded harshly, though he didn't even seem to acknowledge her. He enjoyed this all too much. He was too blind with alcohol to have mercy, and so the words kept coming. The accusations and the lies and the insults.

"You're not good enough for anything, Brianne. College? You fucked that one up."

"Shut up," I whimpered desperately, closing my eyes tightly and shaking my head, tears starting to roll down my cheeks.

Another scoff, another comment not even getting into his airwaves. "Can't even keep a man satisfied, so what are you good for?"

He was there again in seconds. Matt staring back at me from the darkness behind my eye lids, with that infectious smile on his lips. A liquor bottle in hand to wash the fears away, and open arms just for me. He cared, didn't he? Or was it all another fairy-tale. Something I made to seem real, to make the world seem like a better place after all. A little Jager to make life flow smoothly, at least for a night. At least for a moment.

"Just a filthy slut, with nothing to live for."

That's when I snapped. With my mind so lost and confused, with my heart already torn in two, I stopped caring. It didn't matter anymore what anybody else thought of me, or what was expected of me, or what I believed. My mind had simply stopped completely, sending me into autopilot, ruled entirely by my emotions.

"You need to stop talking so much bullshit!" I roared, pulling myself to my feet and turning lividly to Spencer, still beside the doorway. He looked a little surprised by my sudden outburst, but his eyes quickly darkened none the less. I was sick to my stomach of seeing him look at me like that.

"Excuse me? And who do you think-" He started, only to have his words falter as a large smash pierced the air. He glanced to the wall beside his head, were the glass lamp that had been beside me moments ago had just propelled into. It was now lying shattered on the carpet, along with countless candles that had got caught up on the way.

My body was shaking as I glared menacingly over at Spencer, his now accusing eyes falling onto me. "I won't miss next time," I hissed, as I heard my Mothers gasp from beside me, quickly followed by her clapping her hand to her mouth.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He roared back at me, starting to advance on me from the other side of the sofa and using his arms as he spoke. "Jenifer, do you expect me to keep a roof over that, that things head?! Look at her! She's-"

"Shut the fuck up!" I screamed as loudly as I thought possible, cutting out Spencer's words. I saw the panic flicker through his eyes for a split second while I made my next move, almost instinctively. My hand flew to the ground at my feet, the ceramic bowl grasped in my finger tips before I returned to my full height. In a split second, I had smoothly followed through with my threat.

In a split second my burning hatred drained, while my breath caught in my throat. My arms fell lifelessly to my sides, while every muscle in my face relaxed as the room fell deathly silent. Realisation was a funny thing.

A loud groan of pain bounced off the walls suddenly as Spencer's hands firmly clutched at his forehead, his whole body falling forward onto his knees. I had hit him square on. My eyes watched, spell bound, as rich crimson flowed through his fingers. No one moved. No one made a sound. Even Mother was beyond expressing her shock as time stood still. It was beyond shock. Something much closer to horror. To insanity.

"B-Brianne..?" Mothers hoarse whisper fought through the thick air. "What... What have you done?"

Everything was in slow motion, yet I could barely register it happening. Mother finally coming to her senses and rushing to Spencer's side. Hushed words escaping her lips as she looked over her partner at a loss of what to do. A hand resting comfortingly on his back, while his own fingers briefly moved from his face at Mothers command. The blood was streaming into his eyes, masking his features. Hiding his face. I could do nothing but stand motionless as it all unfolded around me, my eyes fixed on the crimson engulfing my field of vision. I still couldn't think. No matter what, I couldn't do a thing.

"Brianne, we're going to the hospital."

I could barely hear Mothers voice over the blood rushing through my ears, and even then it was distorted. The words didn't make sense. They didn't sound right. They echoed through my head, before failing me completely. I didn't understand, the past minutes events barely stringing together tin my mind. The hospital? He was hurt. I had hurt him. It was serious. They were going...

The door slamming finally brought me crashing back down to earth, leaving me gasping for breath.

I glanced feverishly around in a daze, finding myself empty in the room still only lit by the remaining candles, slowly flickering to themselves. I could still hear my own scream echoing through my head and ringing in my ears. But other than that, it was a painful silence.

I swallowed hard as I tried to steady my breathing that was shallow and erratic, but if anything it was becoming more irregular. The next wave of tears were filling my eyes as my body started to break down, anger taking over me once more. Yet there was only one thing that was in my mind. In truth, it had never left. It was the fuel for everything I had felt tonight. It was the only thing that was keeping me breathing.

I tugged my mobile out of my pocket, a dozen other random objects tumbling out along side it in the process. I hesitantly hit Matt's speed dial, before raising my shaking hand to my ear. I felt the blood freeze in my veins as I heard the last thing I needed right now. A beep. A dead line. A voice mail service.

Tears tumbled freely down my cheeks as the anger swelled once more, the phone following the same fate as the glass lamp. It cracked as it hit the wall at force, before falling heavily down to rest on the carpet beside it's broken comrades. But that's when my attention was stolen. Suddenly it all made perfect sense.

I slowly wandered around the sofa with my gaze locked, padding one step at a time towards the now slightly damaged wall from my onslaught. I came to a steady stop in front of all the shattered objects at my feet, along with the burning carpet where the candles had caught alight on the wool before it had burnt out. I continued to watch in fascination as the flames danced, causing shapes to flicker over the broken shards of glass scattered on the floor.

My body lowered down to a crouch my hand reaching out for the beautifully tempting shards. I picked up a tiny piece, rotating it slowly between my thumb and fingers, while my eyes stayed fixed on the dancing flames. It was hypnotizing to watch, and for some reason calming to my racing thoughts. I could feel my breathing becoming much slower and lighter as I hovered, lost in the flickering light.

A shiver shot through my body, the hairs on my arms standing on end as a sharp pain surged through my thumb. My trance momentarily faltered, my gaze falling down onto my hand, watching the blood slowly seep from the small cut on my skin. I swallowed hard as I slowly rose back up to my feet, my eyes now watching my quivering hands.

I firmly took the glass shard between my already bleeding thumb and first finger, turning my left palm upwards. The tears fell silently from my cheeks, a deep breath filling my lungs as my body moved without my consent. The sharp edge was very slowly drawn across the pale skin, still facing the skies. My eyes that no longer seemed to be my own watched as the crimson spilled out across my hand, pooling at the center and filtering out through the indents in the skin. Running into old scars.

Every movement was slow and smooth, almost calculated, as my hand rotated, the blood escaping and dripping down onto the carpet below. It was then that it all happened much too fast, and I was all lost without a hope or savior left in sight. Suddenly there were slashes across the back of my hand, ripping through the skin one after the other and creating such deadly but beautiful patterns. They appeared so gracefully, as if by magic, wounds splitting open which had been there all along; waiting for this moment.

Before I even had the chance to run, my mind had been lost in the dark haze of crimson.