Burlap

24 - Pumped Up Kicks

George threw his fist into the mirror above the sink, sending a hailstorm of shattered glass crumbling around his arm, projecting reflections of the bathroom in a thousand different directions as each shard caught an image as it fell. The pieces made sharp tinkling sounds as they crashed to the dingy floor until they settled still, the sudden silence ringing in my ears even louder than the obscenely loud collision of his knuckles meeting the smooth surface.

Lottie hovered by the door, her hands brushing her throat as she fretted over whether to approach him or not. I didn’t give her the chance to be his scapegoat. Where I wasn’t sure she could handle him, I knew Power was at least an even match.

I took a hesitant step toward the fuming boy, shooting a stern glance at Lottie, telling her to stay put. He gripped the edge of the sink, hunched over the faucet as his shoulders heaved in his struggle to keep control. Every breath he took shot from his nostrils with force, drawing my attention to the way his jaw clenched so hard I was sure his teeth would shatter.

“George,” I stated, fighting to stay calm. My hand, with reluctance, settled on his tensed shoulder. “Get it together. You’re in control here, not your emotions.”

A dark, sinister sounding chuckle erupted from his mouth as he moved to glare at me. “Emotions,” he spat, curling his lips back in disgust. “Useless. They’re a sign of weakness, and I am not weak.”

“Of course not-”

He spun around, shoving me backward until my back hit the hard wall of the small bathroom. “Don’t you dare try to patronize me!” he yelled, storming toward me with something closely related to what I had seen in his eyes the night he killed Ernie swirling around his hazel depths. From the doorway, Lottie gasped, her eyes welling up with unshed tears.

“George, please!” she cried, reaching out to touch him.

He turned on her, allowing me a brief second to catch the breath that had been knocked from my lungs.

“Sit down!” he snapped at her, shocking me cold. I’d never heard him use such a harsh tone on her, and judging from her own wide eyes and limp limbs, she’d never heard it either. Within a half a moment, she’d obeyed and slid to the floor, staring up at him with such fear that it gutted my heart from the inside out.

“You’re scaring her,” I said, evoking all the serenity and calmness I could into my voice, though my knees knocked together as they shook. I swallowed, eyeing the broken shards of the mirror closest to me in case I needed a weapon.

It didn’t go unnoticed, of course. His gaze followed mine to the glittering glass pieces and he grinned as if he’d read my thoughts completely. “Not just her, it seems. What are you planning to do, Kate? Slit my throat, too?”

A violent wave of shivers caressed my spine at his tone. I bit my lip, pushing my fear of his unstable state back down. “If it protected Lottie and me, then yes,” I told him, choosing to answer honestly because he clearly was not a fan of the careful handling I’d already tried.

His face twisted. “Lottie? You think I’d hurt her? After all I’ve put into protecting her?” After I’ve worked so hard to use her as my shield and manipulation tool? The words went unsaid, but I heard them all the same.

“You’re not exactly predictable right now,” I answered, not bothering to hide the fact that my fingers wrapped around of particularly large shard of glass. The jagged edges sliced into my own hand, producing fresh wells of scarlet blood to appear and drip onto the white floor. How much blood had the floors of Rosenton seen over the years? How many times had the pristine white tile been stained crimson?