I Cannot Change You

~*2 days later... Saturday, 17th of October*~

Even through my thick feather pillow squashed apon my head, the shut door, while I'm still only half asleep, and although the distance between my family and me should be enough to drown out the screams and shouts, I still hear a majority of the argument that is occurring between my parents and step brother. I'm unsure of the reason to it, but I can say that, judging by the fact that I've never heard Michelle scream at her son this loud, whatever Max has done or wants to do is not something his mother is proud of. Max's sudden mood swings are nothing new to me, but it always surprises me about how much he has to say, or even can say. 

The door swings open and a half-dressed, furious Max storms in. He mutters angrily under his breath while he throws on a shirt and jacket then stamps back out again, before I can question him. A slam of the front door confirms his departure, and I can tell he won't be back for a while.  

I stay in bed until at least 5 in the afternoon. The parents left a while ago so I'm alone for now. My head is killing me, and I think I'm coming down with something. I remember one day when I was twelve I caught the flu and had to stay at home, and my sweet mother was my waitress for the whole week, catering for my every need. 
My mouth stretches into a little smile at the memories of my mother, an essential part of our tiny family. When she passed, I didn't know how we would survive, my father and I. Then Michelle came along. I've never thought about how grateful I should be of her. She helped my dad out of his misery, and mine, too. Well, to an extent. 

Another hour passes, and I decide that it'd be good for me to go for a little walk around. I slip into a jumper and old jeans, and lace up my shoes before heading out into the gentle orange sunshine of the late afternoon. Each house is old and battered, much like my own. A lot of elderly couples live around this area, I suppose for the peace and quiet, and the lesser cost for housing. 

The setting sun glows faintly through thickening grey clouds on the horizon, and I expect a heavy rain shower sometime soon. 
I don't know exactly where I'm going, but somewhere that I'm not too confined and having to lie around all day doing nothing. I have to hug myself close as a sudden cool breeze flows gently through the air. 

I remember the first day I met Max. He and Michelle had stayed at our house for about a week in the middle of the year after my mother died, to aid around the house. I'd helped my father clean the entire house the day before, and I couldn't stop thinking about what this Max boy is like. I was rather excited by the thought that a boy would be staying in my house. I made sure that my room was extra tidy, as he'd be sleeping there during his stay. I had no idea that a few months later he'd be staying in my room permanently.
I wasn't expecting what was at the door the next day. Max was fascinatingly different; like nothing I'd ever seen before. The Max back then was almost like the one today: Not unnecessarily loud, but still certainly didn't pay a lot of respect towards me. The fashion in which he dressed was very similar, too. He and my father clicked perfectly, as they started talking about favorite movies and actors, bands, sports...
I never really talked to Max in that week. I was shy, and didn't want him to think poorly of me like all the other kids did. I still found out quite a bit about him during that time, just by listening to conversations around the dinner table. He was a good speaker, not shy at all and definitely not afraid to express his opinions. I could tell that he didn't like me by the way he looked at me.

I stop walking, and climb halfway of a grassy hill at the corner of a small lane, an abandoned home sitting at the top. I let my body rest against the lawn for a minute.

The world around me slowly gets darker and darker as the sun rolls below the horizon and the now black clouds swell with moisture. 
I reach out and touch the grass above my head. The tiny blades caress my fingers, tickling the tips ever so softly and dampen my sleeves with evening dew. I study my now wet hands.

A sudden clatter from behind causes my ears to prick up, and I instinctually whip my head back at the old house to see what had caused the loud noise. Another smash and a bolt of light shoots through the air and I'm already saturated. Deciding that this won't be wonderful for my current state, I clamber up the slippery grass hill and make it onto the veranda of the old house. I'm only a few blocks away from home but in this weather it'd be best to wait for the rain to pass, which unfortunately, could be a while. It's only October and yet we're expecting a lot of rain this season.

The wooden planks underneath my feet are old and rotting, but are just strong enough to hold my weight. They creak as I carefully step closer to the building, knowing anyone heavier than me would probably fall straight through the aged timber. The oak door is boarded over, but one dusty window pane is smashed and large enough for me to squeeze through. 
Inside the house are several pieces of furniture covered with stained sheets, a big fireplace and stone mantelpiece, and dark wooden floorboards. I purse my lips, deciding whether or not I should enter. 
Instead, I sit on the veranda's steps and stare into the empty street, watching as a number of puddles form on the road and deepen rapidly with the continuous rainfall. My soaking hair drips through my jumper, leaving my back sticky and uncomfortable. 

I remember how much it rained at my mother's funeral. It was if the weather reflected my emotions that day. Just that one day it decided to rain, right in the middle of summer.

Another spark of light flies through the air, followed by a deafening smash. I wonder what my family is doing. Michelle and Dad will be at work until quite late, so won't try to call for a while. 
I sigh in angst, having not brought my phone with me, and knowing that the parents will be worried sick when they do eventually attempt to contact me. 

A long while passes, without any sympathy from the ongoing storm. I figured that it's at at least 7 o' clock now, seeing as the orange glow of the street lights below are visible through the thick spray. It's cold, and I'm soaking. A familiar tune comes into my head as I stare into the dark, wet, empty street below me. I start to hum it quietly, somehow combining the clicking of the rain on the tin roof above me with the sweet melody. With every minute that passes my eyelids droop even more, and the hole in my ripped jeans gets bigger as I pick at it. The rain is still beating down, but the thunder and lightning has softened slightly. 

Sighing again, I get to my feet, pulling my drenched jumper over my head and throw it through the glassless window frame. At this point, I don't care about the dark, dusty house that awaits me. At least I'll be sheltered more from the pelting storm. 

I slide through the window with ease, and jump to the ground. The house has a strange musty scent, like old furniture and tobacco. I feel the crunch of glass shards scattered under my shoes, but I can't see the rest of the room. I take my drenched jumper and stretch my hands out in front of me to prevent my body from bumping into anything as I carefully shuffle across the wooden floor, trying to picture the location of the furniture. I feel for the wall, and come to a light switch. The bulb has blown, and my only source of light is the open window, which only provides little. Moving on, I find an open door that I presume goes to the hallway, and I step through. 

Up until I was about 13 I was terrified of the dark, until one night my father, though not maliciously, told me I had greater things to be afraid of, and so locked me in a closet for the night. I smile gratefully, as he was right - I have my whole life ahead of me, yet. 

With my hands stretched out, I slide my left side along the wall, until my hands hit something. I furrow my eyebrows at the touch, knowing it isn't a wall, but something soft and warm. When it thumps rhythmically under my hand, I let out a yell as I jump back. My own heart beats faster at the sensation. A few memories of my fear flashes through my mind but before I can run, the person speaks softly. 

"Quiet, I don't want the neighbours to think someone's being murdered." 
I roll my eyes. Max. Why is he here?
"What are you doing here, Maxwell?" 
I question him sharply. The house is silent for a second as he realizes who I am. My eyes are slowly adjusting to the darkness, and I can see that he's leaning his shoulder against the wall, his jacket hood covering his hair and most of his face. "I could ask you the same thing." His tone is a lot less friendly.

I huff and fold my arms, kicking the dirty floor. "I went for a walk and it started to rain, so I stayed here. Your turn." 
My eyes follow his hands as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out lighter and cigarette. He shrugs. "Same." 
I glower at him in distaste. It must be a coincidence that I chose the same shelter. "When did you get here?" 
"A while ago. You know I don't like rain, so I made sure I didn't get wet." he says slowly, looking me up and down through the small flame of his lighter. "You did a great job of staying dry." 
My scowl hardens as I wrap my arms around my wet body. "Shut up. Listen, I don't have my phone, and the parents should have tried calling about where we are by now."

Max says nothing, but takes his phone from his pocket, exchanging it with his lighter. He quickly taps the keys, and then looks back at me. Through the darkness and haze of smoke I can just see him raise an eyebrow as if to say 'What now?'. 

"I'm not going out there. We'll just have to stay here until they come and get us. Have you tried all the lights?" 
 
"All but the bedroom." He says as his phone buzzes in his hand. The white light of the screen causes his pale face to glow. 
"They're stuck in town; the roads are closed. I told them that we're fine. They won't be worried about anything." he says, sliding it back into his pocket. The room instantly goes black again, except for the figure that carefully feels for a door on the other side of the narrow hall. I stare at him in astonishment. "We're fine? Max, we're stuck in a house that could fall over any second - especially while there's a storm carrying on outside."
"It's not that bad."
He pushes the door open and steps inside for a moment, before sudden light stings my eyes. How electricity still runs through this house, I don't know, but I'm glad it does.

I take another look at Max when I enter the tiny room. His eyes are blank as he lowers himself to the floor, and just sits there. 
Max has definitely matured over the years I've known him. He keeps himself to himself nowadays. 

In the middle of the room lays an old, filthy mattress, and beer cans and plastic bags are scattered around the floor. 
Sitting against opposite walls, we stay silent as time passes slowly. Only in a thin shirt I'm frozen, but I don't say anything. My jumper is soaking and won't do any good for warmth. I'm exhausted, so clear a small space free of litter to the side of me so I can lie my head down. Using my hand as a pillow, I curl into a loose ball and close my eyes, listening to the rain softly patting on the roof. 
I wonder what Max and Michelle were fighting about...

I'm very high up. Almost like I'm perching on a tall pillar, or something. 
The sea is below me, and the sun sits just below the surface. I feel the urge to jump off, but before I can, someone pushes me. I plummet into hot water, the sun blinding me until everything goes white.

My eyes pry open and are quick to adjust to the cool, dark morning. Rain is still falling though much lighter than the night before. I start to sit up when something warm slips off my torso. I frown and pick up a piece of clothing, studying it for a short moment before I recognize it. 
Max's jacket. 
Looking over at the sleeping boy, I smile, pulling his jacket on and whispering a thank you, even though he can't hear. In slightly greater emotional and physical comfort, I soon fall back into a deep sleep.