You're Just In Time

Kaleb stared at me, eyes wide with pain, remorse and something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Ronnie’s eyes shifted between the two of us, as a small crowd gathered behind me. No one made any movements; it was as if I were a lioness, crouched to kill for her children. Kaleb’s mouth opened slowly, but the words didn’t pour out. This motion continued for several minutes, and yet repentance wasn’t hitting my figure. His eyes were glazing over with tears of guilt, and yet all I could do was sneer.

Ronnie’s mouth opened, as fury showed itself on his features. His words were like a silent echo of Monroe’s, and that instantly tore into me, “What the hell are you doing, Melody?” he hissed, stepping around Kaleb, “Where do you get off pulling this shit, now, kid?”

I watched him, my narrow slivers of eyes opening slightly. It was as though Monroe were standing in Ronnie’s feet; it was as though, she herself were the one lecturing me through Ronnie’s soul, “I, uh—”

“Oh hell no, you are not talking for a very, very long time, chick. Jack’s raised you from birth like you were his own flesh and blood. Where do you get off acting like a spoiled bitch toward him? Toward your mother? Sure it was a stupid mistake, but Jack never once blamed it on you—he never did anything but love you,” he growled, his voice laced with venom. He stared daggers at me, voice cracking as his anger strengthened, “Kaleb may be exceedingly dumb, but he never stepped on Jack’s toes when it came to you, Melody.”

I went to open my mouth, only to be cut off by a hand on my shoulder. Blaise rubbed the skin gently, trying to tell me to just keep my mouth shut.

“Melody Rae, so help me God if Monroe hears you talking to your parents and Kaleb like this,” Ronnie shook his head feverishly, as if he were trying to shake away invisible tears, “she’d come back to life, just to kick your sorry ass.”

“Shut up,” I hissed, as the tears hit the corners of my eyes. I shrugged out of Blaise’s grip, slamming my hands down on the counter top, “Shut the hell up, right now Ronnie Davy!”

He watched me, and I was instantly welcomed with the feel of everyone’s eyes on me. I felt self conscience immediately and regretted that I was allowing myself to tear up in front of everyone. I had this strong persona, and yet I was here breaking down the wall I had built after Monroe had passed away.

Everything about this situation reeked of pitiful rage. Hell, even I had to admit that Monroe would rise from the dead just to kick my ass because of my stupid, childish temper tantrum. I had no right to think otherwise.

I pulled back and out of the room, making a bee line for the stairs. Before I had a comprehension as to what was happening, Alex’s arms were around my stomach and kept me from bounding up even the first step. I hissed in response, as more tears flooded my cheeks and allowed a sob to rip from my chest. Alex’s voice became soothing, as he lead me to the couch. He reminded me countless times that Ronnie was only mad and that he didn’t mean what he said.

The sad thing was that I knew Ronnie meant what he said. He never backtracked on his words and hardly said he was sorry because of what slipped through his lips since Monroe’s passing. He was about as stone hard as I attempted to make it seem like I was. He was everything I was not.

I curled up on the couch, fully aware of everyone’s stares still shifting between Ronnie and I. I didn’t allow for them to see the tears on my cheeks, but already knew they were on to what I was doing.

Blaise instinctively inched his way into the living room and around the various objects in his path, before he took the now open seat next to me. He reached out, finger tips grazing my forearm before I flinched away. I wiped at my eyes quickly, going to apologize when Blaise’s hand gently touched my lips.

“It’s alright,” he smiled, aimlessly gazing at me, “trust me, yeah?”

I nodded, knowing he couldn’t see it but he could feel the motion. I leaned against him, snuggling my face into his chest as the pounding headache started up.

After tonight, nothing would ever be the same.

- - - -

I angled my head, cocking it to the side as Blaise’s soft snores forced my eyes to open. My mouth was dry and forced me to cough, as I glanced around the living room. Alex was passed out on the couch, arms crossed over his chest, while Kaleb lay on the floor in front of the other couch. Abbie lay on the couch, eyes puffy even though they were closed.

My eyes did a full sweep of the room, and I counted the heads of everyone but two of the nine. My eyes fell upon everyone except for Jack’s and Ronnie’s heads, and I cringed. I heard no whispers, only the sounds of soft snores and heavy breathing, so I assumed Jack and Ronnie were outside.

Slowly and swiftly, I got to my feet and glanced back to make sure I hadn’t disturbed Blaise. I stepped around Rian’s curled up body and Zack’s, before I turned toward the foyer. I glanced out the window of the door, hissing when I didn’t see either of them and turned. I made my way toward the back door and slid it open. I stepped into the crisp, after midnight air and watched Jack’s and Ronnie’s faces meet mine.

I sucked in a breath, not sure what I really was doing, before I opened my mouth, “I’m sorry for acting the way I did today and yesterday, dad, Ronnie. I-I don’t know, I was just so pissed off that no one told me—”

Jack cut me off, beckoning me to sit in the empty chair between he and Ronnie. I hesitantly stepped around, taking a seat and sat back.

“Melody,” Jack sighed, rubbing his face, “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. That doesn’t mean what we did was right, and it doesn’t mean that you should have spout of the handle like that, got it?”

I nodded solemnly.

Ronnie took over, “Sorry for yelling at you, kiddo. I, uh, I guess I made a promise to Monroe’s grave that I wouldn’t let you fall into your mother’s footsteps. I don’t know, but something about you talking to Kaleb like that,” he paused, shaking his head and tried to wrap his head around the right words, “I don’t know, something just told me I needed to freak on you.”

I sucked in a quiet breath, nodding, “I get it, I think. I mean, something told me I was in the wrong, as soon as I confronted Kaleb.”

Ronnie nodded slowly, before sitting back in his chair. He glanced at me and toward Jack. For the first time that night, things felt calm—felt right. Even though everything didn’t seem completely pure, I could still breath easy. The most difficult thing would be confronting mom to tell her I was sorry, and I didn’t know if I could do that.

As the night progressed into day, I found myself locked in the guest bedroom. Everyone was lively downstairs, eating breakfast and chatting over studio work. Blaise was in the shower joint to his room, leaving me to be consumed by my thoughts.

Before truly thinking about it, I got to my feet and inched to the hamper in the corner of the room. I shifted through the pockets of my dirty jeans, thankful that whoever mugged me in the alley way hadn’t taken my prize and took it between my fingers. I quickly got up, inching toward the door to make sure it was locked. I went back to the bed, sitting down on top of the comforter and slid my fingers over my razor blade. Quickly, I got to my feet and made my way into the guest bathroom.

I sat on the tub’s edge, gripping the blade lightly. Without hesitation, I ran the blade across the backs of my thighs, wincing in doing so. I ran over old scars, feeling the goo seep from the new openings and hissed. My eyes allowed tears to fall, and I sobbed deeply. I sobbed so hard, it felt as though I’d never get my voice back afterwards.

As something pounded slightly from the bedroom door, I hissed and got to my feet, “Hold on,” I called, running toilet paper over the wounds. I quickly reached over, grabbing the air freshener and sprayed a bit, before making my way into the bedroom. I pulled open the door, meeting Blaise’s gaze, “Hi.”

He smiled sweetly, “Hey, chick,” he reached in front of me for my arm, which I gave him and lead him to the bed, “Hungry or anything?”

“Nah,” I sat next to him, running my hand through my hair. I silently prayed that the basketball shorts caught the blood, before I rested my head on Blaise’s shoulder.

No matter what I did or how desperate I got, Blaise was not allowed to find out about my cutting; it would tear him to pieces.