Ruin Everything

I woke up alone in my cold bed and internally freaked out. My freak out turned outwards and my mouth worked faster than my brain did. Tears flooded into my eyes, and my chest tightened.

“JACK?” I yelled, my voice edging on panic. I heard his footsteps before the door flew open and Jack scooped me into his arms.

“Are you okay?”

“I didn’t know where you were,” I whimpered, burying myself into my brother. He chuckled.

“I didn’t get far. I was just making us some breakfast.”

“I’m sorry. I just, I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“Come on, let’s get some food in you. That’ll make you feel better, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I replied as he stood up with me. He set me on my feet and practically dragged me from my room, past a bustling Mrs. Barakat, dressed in her work clothes.

“Morning, Joyce!” I called as Jack pulled me in the opposite direction.

“Good morning, Cass. How are we feeling this morning?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I replied.

I was pushed into a bar stool at the kitchen’s island and quickly food was set in front of me. My breakfast included homemade chocolate chip pancakes, bacon and a glass of my favorite orange juice with mango. Plus, Jack had made me a blueberry bagel with my favorite strawberry cream cheese.

“Alright, what is all this? You never make me breakfast,” I said.

“Can’t I just treat my adoring younger sister to a nice homemade breakfast without needing a motive?”

“No.”

Jack huffed and slid into the stool beside me, handing me a fork and knife.

“Oh, alright. I suppose. I kinda, sorta told Mom that you want to see a therapist,” he rushed out. I smacked his arm instinctively. “Hey!”

“You promised!”

“It’s just Mom.”

I cut up one of the pancakes on my plate aggressively and refused to look at him. He pushed at my shoulder and pulled on my ponytail. I stuck a piece of bacon in my mouth and chewed angrily. He tried tugging on my ear and then poking my cheek. When that didn’t work, and I took a long drink of my orange juice, he let out an annoyed huff.

“You’re not allowed to be angry with me, Cassara Adalae!”

I rolled my eyes and looked at Jack, who had crossed his arms over his chest in feigned hurt.

“Stop it. I’m the one whose supposed to be angry,” I chuckled, shoving him sideways.

“I was only looking out for you,” he stated simply.

“Jack,” I whined, resting my head on his shoulder. “I don’t need looking out for all the time, you know? I’m a big girl.”

“Cass, it’s not that I don’t think you’re capable of taking care of yourself. I just worry about you. I’m your big brother. It’s my job to be overprotective. Besides, what do you do when I’m not here? When I’m on tour? You can’t even handle me being in the kitchen,” he reminded me.

“I freaked, okay? It won’t happen again,” I grumbled.

“It was more than just a simple freak out.”

I turned away from him, no longer wanting to be a part of this conversation. I never should’ve brought it up last night. I was stupid to think it’d be simple, just ask Jack for help and it’d be fine. I was wrong, and Mom was right. Asking for help never gets you anywhere but in debt and in trouble. I could do this on my own.

“Cass,” Jack’s voice softened as I stood up from my stool, grabbing my glass.

“I’m fine,” I replied. “I have to get ready.”

“Ready for what? It’s Sunday, you don’t have practice.”

“Becca and I are going out for some girl bonding time, if you must know,” I quipped and hurried away, down the stairs to the lower floor where the lesser used shower was. I had long since claimed the basement shower for my own, especially because whenever the boys had practice here, the songs would reverberate through the walls and into my shower.

I locked the door and took a deep breath before setting up my shower with the right temperature and adjustment of the spray. I flicked on the fan and turned down the lights. I like my shower a certain way, although this is a trait that I developed after moving in with the Barakats. In my mom’s house, there was no such thing as “right temperature” and there was no dimmer switch for the lighting. In my mom’s house, there was two temperatures of water: scalding hot and frigidly cold. The lighting was harsh and unflattering, and the water pressure sucked. But once I became a part of this family, my luxurious side kicked in and I liked the things that I had never had, like a truly decent shower.

I turned on the iHome, which was constantly home to my old iPod. I turned my Sunday morning play list on and stripped from my clothes. I took my hair down and let it all fall around me in its mass of brown. Finally, I stepped into the shower and let out a sigh. This was always the one place where no bad things could get to me, no thoughts about my mom, no worries about what people expected from me. It was just easy in the shower. Life was easier. Unfortunately, you can’t hide your life away in the shower. I wish you could, but you can’t.