Status: Hey there, this is my favorite story
Lisbeth
Storm
Two days after Destery started living with me, he went out to the beach. At three in the morning. It was pouring, the clouds angry and black.
I woke up from a nightmare filled with dark water and death. Ever since I was a child dreams like that have plagued me. They’re always about water and dying.
I can never force myself awake. The only solace for them is a good shot of whiskey. I found that out when I was fifteen. Not the healthiest cure, but it’s the only one that works.
After stumbling to the kitchen, letting the whiskey burn down my throat, I realized Destery was gone. His bed on the couch was neatly made up, i-touch on the blankets. “Destery?” I called out, desperately hoping he was home.
There was no answer. Fuck. I glanced outside at the storm, which was so bad I could barely see past the windows. Swearing to myself, I tugged on a raincoat and stepped out the door.
Of course, that was stupid of me. I always seemed to be doing stupid things for Destery.
Gut instinct led me to the beach, where the waves were peaking higher than my house. Destery was just a blurred figure against the water, not noticeable if I hadn’t been searching for him.
I yelled, “Destery!” but my voice couldn’t be heard over the storm, so I ran over and grabbed his arm. He flinched away from me, leaving me with a hand held out awkwardly. “What are you doing?”
By then we were both soaked. Destery shivered and rubbed his hands up his arms, biting his blue lips. “Come back inside before you freeze!” I gestured at my house, hoping he would listen.
The storm was only getting more violent as we stood there, and the waves rose farther. He shook his head stubbornly. “Stop being an idiot! You promised you wouldn’t try killing yourself again!” If he stayed out here, with the raging storm and cold, he wouldn‘t have long to live. That one worked. Destery sighed, following me up the path to home.
I was so angry by the time we got inside that I just spat at him, “Dry off and go to bed. Towels in cabinet. Find your own clothes.” I ripped a towel from my clothesline, leaving it vibrating from my tug.
When I came back into the living room Destery was sitting on the floor wrapped in a towel. His clothes were laid out on the floor. I ignored him, tossing my glass in the sink, putting the whiskey away.
“Lisbeth?” Destery asked softly. Slumped on the ground, damp hair stuck to his face and skinny elbows poking out, Destery was a little pathetic. He looked like an ashamed child. “What.” He looked at his knees and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
“I couldn’t hear that.” Pulling his legs close to his chest, Destery said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you angry.” “What were you doing then?”
Despite myself, I was curious. There had to be some sort of reason for how Destery acted. “I keep worrying about my brother.” “Uh...” I’m an only child, so it’s not like I can emphasize. “He’s fifteen now, but Dad stuck him in that home when he was just twelve.”
“Well...that sucks. But you can’t keep doing stuff like that! No one wants you to die.” Destery tugged on his wet hair and frowned. “I’m sorry.” “I know. Go to bed, okay? I’m not angry anymore.” He smiled slightly and stood. “Night Lisbeth.” “Good night Destery.”
I woke up from a nightmare filled with dark water and death. Ever since I was a child dreams like that have plagued me. They’re always about water and dying.
I can never force myself awake. The only solace for them is a good shot of whiskey. I found that out when I was fifteen. Not the healthiest cure, but it’s the only one that works.
After stumbling to the kitchen, letting the whiskey burn down my throat, I realized Destery was gone. His bed on the couch was neatly made up, i-touch on the blankets. “Destery?” I called out, desperately hoping he was home.
There was no answer. Fuck. I glanced outside at the storm, which was so bad I could barely see past the windows. Swearing to myself, I tugged on a raincoat and stepped out the door.
Of course, that was stupid of me. I always seemed to be doing stupid things for Destery.
Gut instinct led me to the beach, where the waves were peaking higher than my house. Destery was just a blurred figure against the water, not noticeable if I hadn’t been searching for him.
I yelled, “Destery!” but my voice couldn’t be heard over the storm, so I ran over and grabbed his arm. He flinched away from me, leaving me with a hand held out awkwardly. “What are you doing?”
By then we were both soaked. Destery shivered and rubbed his hands up his arms, biting his blue lips. “Come back inside before you freeze!” I gestured at my house, hoping he would listen.
The storm was only getting more violent as we stood there, and the waves rose farther. He shook his head stubbornly. “Stop being an idiot! You promised you wouldn’t try killing yourself again!” If he stayed out here, with the raging storm and cold, he wouldn‘t have long to live. That one worked. Destery sighed, following me up the path to home.
I was so angry by the time we got inside that I just spat at him, “Dry off and go to bed. Towels in cabinet. Find your own clothes.” I ripped a towel from my clothesline, leaving it vibrating from my tug.
When I came back into the living room Destery was sitting on the floor wrapped in a towel. His clothes were laid out on the floor. I ignored him, tossing my glass in the sink, putting the whiskey away.
“Lisbeth?” Destery asked softly. Slumped on the ground, damp hair stuck to his face and skinny elbows poking out, Destery was a little pathetic. He looked like an ashamed child. “What.” He looked at his knees and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
“I couldn’t hear that.” Pulling his legs close to his chest, Destery said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you angry.” “What were you doing then?”
Despite myself, I was curious. There had to be some sort of reason for how Destery acted. “I keep worrying about my brother.” “Uh...” I’m an only child, so it’s not like I can emphasize. “He’s fifteen now, but Dad stuck him in that home when he was just twelve.”
“Well...that sucks. But you can’t keep doing stuff like that! No one wants you to die.” Destery tugged on his wet hair and frowned. “I’m sorry.” “I know. Go to bed, okay? I’m not angry anymore.” He smiled slightly and stood. “Night Lisbeth.” “Good night Destery.”