Hazel Eyes and Peaches

chapter 16:

We've been standing here for about twenty minutes, and Westin's still going.

"-can't fucking do that, Riley! You have no idea the pressure I have to make sure you are okay all the time, and I was terrified that something happened to you. Sometimes it can be a bit of a burden!"

"What the fuck did you say to her?"

"This isn't about you Clay!"

"You just made it about me, you dick. Don't fucking talk to her that way. That's your sister, and she's no burden. You have asked her what is wrong with her about twenty times, but what the fuck is wrong with you? You don't say shit like that. To anyone. But especially her, you fucking bastard."

"You have no idea what it's been like for me. I have had to sacrifice so many parts of my life for her. It takes a toll on someone, and it can be a burden to have to take care of people like her."

People like me? What does that mean? I turn to look at Clay, hoping that he would be able to give me some kind of answer because I don't want to hear it from my brother. I don't want to know what he's going to try and say to me. I know that I haven't put him through that much, right? I know I haven't been that selfish, I think. 

I just try my best with everything I do, and I would never mean to hurt someone that much. I can't believe that I didn't see the damage I was doing to Westin. I mean, he's right. What is wrong with me? I should just get over myself, leave him alone, and let him live his life in pure freedom. It was wrong of me to depend on him. 

I knew that nothing about my situation was ideal, for either of us, but I thought he somewhat wanted to help me. It seems that I was wrong, and that's okay. I'll figure it out...maybe. I am so stupid. So stupid to think that he was capable and willing to help me. It's not his fault. 

I'm the messed-up one. I forced him into being a caregiver when I should have just figured it out all by myself. I will never do that to anyone ever again.

I back away from both of the men who seem like they want to become violent towards one another and swiftly make my way to my room. I clutch Clay's shirt tightly in my right hand, my other shaking as I throw some of my clothes into a duffle bag. I have no idea where the freak I'm going to go. 

It's not like I have many family members who would take me in, besides my grandma who would reluctantly do it for the sake of having someone to scrub her floors. That's better than nothing though. My bedroom door bangs open, hitting the wall so hard the knob goes through it. 

Without a word, the man standing there helps me gather my things and points to the bathroom to tell me to grab what I need from there. My brother stands, watching the two of us pack my things with an unknown look in his eyes. To me, it looks more like relief than anything. The last thing he says to me is, 'I'll pack everything else you don't take today and drop them off at Clay's.'

With that, he's gone.

Tears stream down my face, and I'm reminded that it wasn't too long ago that Mark was walking away from me. I dig my fingers into my forearms, trying to draw blood in a place I haven't before.

"Riley, please don't hurt yourself. I promise I'll take care of you."

"He said that before."

"I'm not your brother okay? Let's just get you out of here."

He kisses my cheek, lifting two bags of mine onto his shoulders and one in hand. I try to reach for one, but he gives me a soft look, silently telling me he wants to do it himself. I put his shirt still clenched into my hand, up to my nose, and take a deep breath. I let myself cry as I walk through my brother's house, not understanding how I could be so blind to what he was feeling all this time. 

Some moments were hard for both of us, but I thought that it made our relationship stronger. I thought that because we went through those instances, we would be closer and know that we supported one another. I was wrong, so very wrong, so unbelievably wrong. I don't know what I'm going to do. 

The last of my original support system is gone, the one I thought would stay forever. But, nothing lasts forever. He lifts the bags into the trunk of his car and guides me to the passenger seat. I buckle myself in, sweeping the tears away from my cheeks.

"I've got you. I'm right here. Shit, this is fucking terrible."

"I know I'm terrible okay? I know, I know, I know."

"That's not what I'm saying, peaches. Westin is fucking terrible, what he's put you through is fucking terrible. You are the most beautiful, strong, intelligent person on this planet."

"I'm gonna hurt you too."

"Do it. Hurt me as much as like, but I'm not going anywhere."

When he gets in the car, I have so many questions about where he's taking me, what he's going to do with me. The only answer I get is 'we're going to my house' which doesn't give me a whole lot of information but more than I had previously. With one hand on the steering wheel, the other grips tightly - though not enough to hurt me - onto my leg. 

His long fingers rest on the inside of my thigh, his thumb tracing under my dress to feel the scars there accidentally. I gasp as the pad of his finger presses along one of the deepest ones. But not out of pain. His touch is soft, relaxing, comforting...it feels healing. 

His eyes widen as he continues to feel them up to my thigh, not even reaching the top by the time he has to stop to concentrate on the road. I stare down at my fiddling fingers in my lap, a hot, burning redness flushing my face. He continues to acknowledge my scars with his gentle touch, casually stroking them.