This Little Game We Like To Play

“I can use the potty all by myself!” Maggie hopped a little as she told me.

“Can you?” I asked gasping in fake shock for her benefit.

“Mmhmm.” She nodded her head up and down. Her small brown curls bounced as she does so.

“How about you, Dylan? Can you use that potty?” I ask. The little boy runs to the couch and buries his head in a pillow while laughing.

“No!” Maggie tells me.

“Why not?” I ask with a smile. These two were adorable.

“I’m scared.” Dylan jumps at me. Both of my sisters were out for the count. They hopefully would be all night.

“Aw, there is anything to be afraid of.” I say smoothing down Dylan’s curly brown hair.

“Except for the toilet monsters.”Angel says viciously toward his little brother. Dylan hides his face in my hair with a big pout on his face. Angel throws himself onto the couch with a large bottle of alcohol. He’s disgusting. He’s going to do that right in front of his young siblings? Yeah. I guess he is. Angel takes a large drink from it then turns the TV on. I take Dylan and Maggie onto the deck to play with them. That way they won’t have to be around their irresponsible brother.

After a few hours of playing in the sand, catching fire bugs, and coloring both Maggie and Dylan were starting to get tired. Thankfully. I gave them each a bath an put them in bed. I have the rest of the night to myself. I lay in my room and watch movies. I have no worries as to what Angel could be getting into. After one movie is over I walk down stairs and peek into Maggie and Dylan’s room. They’re both sleeping soundly.

I poke my head into Ann and Molly’s room, the two of them are also asleep. “Quinn!” I hear him shout, his one word slurs. Rolling my eyes and sighing I walk into the living room to make sure he hasn’t broken anything.

“What?” I bark before I take a look around the room. “Oh my God!” I yell covering my eyes as Angel sits completely nude on the couch. “Put your clothes back on!” I yell turning around and stare at the framed star fish.

“I don’t know where they went.” Angel sounds slightly amused. How could you lose your clothes?

“Well go get new ones!” I yell covering my eyes again for extra protection. I cannot believe this is actually happening.

“I can’t.” he whines. “I’m too tired. You go get them.” Happy to leave the room I run upstairs and pray that our parents don’t walk into to see a shit faced and nude Angel on the couch. I pull the door open to his room and start to dig through his suitcase for boxers. I pull out the first pair I see. They’re white and have pickles all over them. I’m not surprised he owns such odd undergarments.

I find a pair of grey sweat pants and a white t-shirt and run down stairs with them. “Here.” I throw the clothes to Angel. The phone rings and I pick up acting like everything is fine, of course it’s my mom.

“Hey, hun. We’re just down the street.” she says.

“Okay.” I say listening to the sound of Angel falling back onto the couch. I hang up before mom can say anything else.

“Quinn!” Angel shouts. I turn back to see he only has the pickle boxers hanging dangerously low on his hips. “You do it.” his eyes half shut as he mumbles.

“Are you serious?” I question in outrage.

“As a heart attack.” he says with a smile stretching across his lips. His eyes shut all the way. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I rush to Angel and pull his boxer to the spot they should be. I struggle to put the pants on him because he isn’t cooperating much. I pull the shirt over his and rush to collect the bottles and cans scattered around the room. I just throw them off the deck when I hear the loud voices of our parents entering the house.

“Get up.” I smack Angel’s face. His hazy brown eyes open to look at me from behind the curtain of blode hair that hangs in his face and he just laughs quietly.

“You saw me naked.” How is it possible for anyone to be this dumb, even if they are drunk?

“Yeah, now get up.” I say pulling at his hands. He stands then stumbles forward and leans on me. Why do I even bother? Why can’t I just let him get what he deserves? Because I want him not to make my life hell, that’s why.

“You heading off to bed?” Charlotte asks, clearly a little past tipsy when she enters the room.

“Yeah.” I say walking Angel’s dead weight up the stairs with me.

“Yeah.” Angel echoes me in a whisper while his fingers try to grasp a lose strand of my hair. He can’t seem to see straight enough to catch the strand of hair, his hand keeps touching my face. It was awkward but I don’t think anything can be more awkward than having to dress him.

“Pretty.” Angel says running his finger along the strand of my hair. Annoyed beyond belief I slap his hand away.

I throw his bedroom door open and push him down onto his bed. He falls like a tree that was just cut down. He doesn’t even attempt to catch himself as he falls forward. I make sure he is on his stomach so if he vomits at some point during the night he won’t suffocate and die. It would do humanity some good but I’m sure his parents would be devastated and I like them too much. How such nice people produced a demon like Angel is mind boggling.

"G'night, Quinn." Angel mumbles against his pillow. The only time he's civil to me is when he's drunk.