Haunt

If he had seen the look on her face he might have known that she was not pleased. But he hadn't, he had been looking everywhere aside from her face. His eyes travelled along the picture lined fridge, the messy counter tops filled with papers that she had been sorting through when he interrupted.

She could tell that he was avoiding looking at her, when he should have just avoided the entire conversation and unwelcome visit.

"I just don't understand why you came back, that's all," he shrugged.

His comment stunned her, as if the empty house wasn't enough of a reason. It made her jaw clench so tight, she thought her teeth were going to snap.

"That's why we broke up, because you didn't understand anything. Especially anything about sensitivity."

That was all it took to finally get him to look at her. The orbs shot up from his hands, which were tightly wrapped around his cup of tea. The hold had cause the colour to drain from his knuckles, the peachy, pink fading into white, ice cold much like his demeanour.

This, she had come to learn, was a point of contention between the two of them, why they had broken up. She knew exactly why they had ended things, he on the other hand was clueless as to the reason, as well as to why things were so bad between them. Not that he seemed to care, which was beside the point at that moment, to either of them.

"I don't know anything about sensitivity?" He shot at her, scoffing each word as the most pretentious, judgemental look took over his features.

He opened his mouth to say something more, but seemed to bite it back as quickly as he had thought it up. The corners of his mouth turned down into what seemed to be a sneer, or a frown, she wasn't too sure.

Pursing his lips then, any trace of an expression fading away as he calmed himself.

Bringing his mug to his lips, he took a short sip from it before placing it down at the table with a loud, forceful thud, making a point.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat as he braced both hands against the table, causing the unstable and extremely old material to moan under the pressure. "This was a really bad idea, thanks for making that quite clear Louisiana."

The sound of her full name falling from hips lips made her flinch. She only ever heard it when she was in trouble, and he had never used her full name in all of the years that she had known him.

With a nod of his head, the polite thing to do, he walked towards the unusual swinging door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house, stopping just short.

"Sorry about your nan," he muttered, not bothering to look back at her before he flew through the door, disappearing within seconds.

Bringing her hand up, she clenched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, pinching back the tears that angrily wanted to escape. His visit was the last thing she needed, and honestly the last thing she wanted, especially at a time like this.

"What the fuck was he doing here?" The almost amused voice rang through the room, jarring her away from the counter that had been supporting her weight this whole time.

Wide eyed, she looked at her brother, his heavily tattooed arms, neck and chest exposed due to the loose fitting cut off shirt he was wearing. His ink black hair was slicked back, a light sheen of sweat covered his face, soot marking his hands.

They may have shared the same DNA, but they couldn't have been any different, aside from the vast collection of tattoos.

She shrugged, not wanting to five him the satisfaction by answering. He had always given her a hard time about her ex-boyfriend, maybe it was his way of being the protective older brother, but it was annoying.

More than that, she didn't want to say his name out loud, she didn't want to talk about it. She just wanted Liam to become another ghost in her life.