If Only

Chapter 12- Just a Heather and a Matthew

"Where were you and why are you all wet?" is the first thing that's said to me when I twist the door handle on our front door and nudge it open. Not a "hello", not a "good afternoon", not a "welcome home", not a "how was school". Just a "where were you and why are you all wet". I stay silent, my hair soaked despite my hood, my clothes dripping, my face hanging downwards.

"WHERE WERE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU-" my father, the person who greeted me, begins to yell.

"I missed the bus!" I yell in answer. He stays quiet, waiting for me to continue. "I missed the bus and had to walk home." I say, calmer.

"Why didn't you call us? Why didn't you call me?" he speaks sternly. It almost makes me shutter. I open my mouth but hesitate, thinking about my response. I couldn't tell him that I didn't call him in fear of getting hit even if it was a lie. Because I hadn't really missed the bus, I just decided to walk home. Just like Darion, I couldn't tell him.

"I don't know." I decided to answer this way, out of fear and blankness of the mind. I had no answer better than that.

"You don't know? YOU DON'T KNOW? OF COURSE YOU DON'T KNOW! YOU NEVER KNOW ANYTHING, YOU WORTHL-" my father begins to go off, exploding like a grenade that I set. He doesn't finish because mother comes up from the basement.

"What's going on here? Why are we yelling at each other?" she asks, hands on her hips. My father tries to argue, but I don't know what he's saying. My mind swirls, words become slurred. My eyes become cloudy. The floor. The floor is coming closer. Closer. Closer. The floor is cold and hard. Hard and cold.

Sweating. Sweating. Sweating as I race down the street. The muddy, flooded street. I race after him, after Darion. But he's so far ahead. So far. I reach my hands in front of me as if it will draw us closer, close enough to latch onto him. My feet pound, my heart races. My lungs burn but still I run and I reach. Until I can't. I'm stopped by something heavy, something metal. I stop in my tracks, something pulling at my waist. I slip in the muddy, flooded streets. My top half flys forward while my bottom half goes out from beneath me. I land hard, my hands smacking roughly into the pavement. I stare into the water, my hands no longer visible from the murkiness. All I see is a swirl of dark liquid flowing through the water. It appears to be coming from my hands. I stand, eyes wide. My hands are filled with tiny rocks and glass shards, each penetrating deep enough to draw blood.

I feel something forcefully yank on my waist as it clunks. I whirl around and feel something turn with me. My hands and eyes reach my waist at the same time. I find a giant chain, as thick as a human skull, attached to my waist. I dig my hands into it, attempting to pry it off with no success. I feel something yank at it from the opposite end. I look into the fog filled distance and see a face. His face. Bryon''s face. Bryon's body. Coming closer with a smirk. I observe him as he stalks towards me. I realize his hands are what's holding the chain which is what's dragging me back. I turn back in Darion's direction, forcing forward with all my might. I call for him, desperation coating my voice but all I hear is Bryon's laughter in my ear. Closer, closer, closer. Until he's there. Right there, in my ear. His hands wrap violently around my torso, picking me up and swinging me around. I fight and kick and scream but it does nothing good. He can't hear me. Darion can't hear me. My arms flail, my voice rages, and still he does not hear.My fighting eases only when I see someone walk up to Darion in the distance. I can't make out who she is, but I know it's a girl. He wraps his arm around her small waist, her perfect, little waist, and walks away with her, their laughs haunting me. This is when I give up. I let him. I let Bryon drag me as I still try to process what just happened. Darion couldn't hear me, didn't hear me. Left me. No. No. No. He wasn't leaving me and I wasn't going with Bryon, not this time.

I fight, suddenly waving my arms and yelling. My legs swing rapidly, connecting with his shins. He grunts and mumbles something inaudible. I twist and bare my nails, connecting them to his face. I scratch and scratch, his moans irresistible. His pain drew me in. I realize I like seeing him like this, hurt. Hurt because of me. I laugh maniacally as I claw his face until it's unrecognizable. He drops me and I stumble, fumbling back into the murky water. But I rose quickly this time, without hesitation. I see my reflection in the water, only partially. I look crazy, a grin painted on my face that's speckled with blood, wide eyes, skin and blood packed under my fingertips, the blood dripping. A small drop falls into the water and I laugh as it disappears and mixes, becoming one with the murk. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. I am crazy. I am-

Awake. I am awake.

I shoot up in my bed, my body covered with sweat. I notice my chest lifting and falling heavily, and that I am slightly shaking. A dream. It was all a dream. I let out a relieved sigh as I brought my right hand to my chest, applying little pressure. I look around and notice I'm in my room under the bed covers. The lights are turned off but I'm still in my school clothes. I look at the clock. 10:57 P.M. Almost eleven o'clock. I shake my head, wondering how I got here. I walked home, I was splashing in puddles, Darion showed up, I went home, I got yelled at, and the floor. The cold, hard floor. I came to the conclusion that I must've fainted from being out in the freezing rain for too long. But then that leads me to another question. How did I end up in my bed? I stand up, legs shaking, breath heavy and take a few steps, clutching onto the nightstand for dear life. I hear a faint knock on the door before it creaks open. Theodore wanders in, curious, and becomes delighted when he sees me. I watch him trot on too-big paws and scale my leg. I hold him tight, putting my waist against the nightstand for balance. My brother pops his head through the opening in the doorway.

"Hey Flower." he whispers, letting himself in and shutting the door quietly, carefully.

"Hey." I whisper in return. We stand in silence for a moment before he sits on my bed. I follow, sitting beside him and placing Theodore on the bed where he stumbles around.

"They were mad. Worried maybe below all that wrath, but anger is all that showed." he whispers, leaning against the wall. I lean back with him, careful not to smash Theo.

"I know. Dad gave me a, uh, special treatment of types when I got home. Didn't even ask if I was okay." I whisper, holding back tears.

"I heard." he responds, followed by silence. I run my hand over Theodore who is becoming healthier and happier by the minute, his fur growing back and his body gaining weight.

"Was he good for you today?" I ask with a smile.

"Despite throwing. Up. On. The. Ground, he was perfectly fine." he answers, emphasizing the vomiting part, taking a quick pause in between each word and starting the next sharply. I laugh with my hand over my mouth, praying that I don't wake my mother or father. Andy chuckles with me, but his smile fades when he confronts me.

"You aren't sneaky ya know." he says, not meeting my eyes. I look away.

"What are you implying?" I ask.

"The smell. Cigarettes. Listen, I'm okay with it, I even do it myself, but I can guarantee that neither mom or dad are. And they will absolutely destroy you if they find out you smoke." he says.

I'm shocked. "How did you k-"

"The smell. You smell heavily of cigarette smoke. If you're gonna smoke, at least know how to hide it." he smiles, pulling out a pack. He opens my window, allowing air to rush through as he takes a lighter from his pocket and lights the end. He takes a long drag and blows it out through the window. The smoke swirls around and fades into the air. He offers and I accept, breathing in and blowing out. We take turns, passing it back and forth until it's nothing. He puts it out on the side of the house where no one can see and then places the cigarette butt into a small plastic bag. I watch him carefully tuck it away and then slip out of his sweatshirt, revealing another one below.

"What are you doing?" I ask with a slight laugh.

"Hiding it." he says. "Get rid of the clothes and there goes a lot of the smell." he explains. I nod. I decide to not ask him when he began smoking because chances are it's one of his stupid college stories and he tells enough of those to mom and dad. Mom and dad. Why am I still calling them that? Because mother birthed me or father helped make me? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Well, I have to go. I was just making sure you were okay, you know, after what happened downstairs." Andy stands, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. I nod as he slips through the door, not waiting for my goodbye. Not that I was going to give him one. I sat in silence, Theodore curled into a fuzzy ball beside me. The window, still open, lets in the howling wind. I breathe in, the air chilling my insides. Mom and dad. Weren't those people supposed to love you? So where did I go wrong? Did they get a faulty baby or did I get faulty parents? Parents. That was wrong. Guardians? They barely did that. Household members? Household members.

Sitting there in my bedroom and a little past eleven, with the window wide open and letting in icy air, I made up a conclusion to myself. A conclusion that said they, my ex-parents, were no longer my parents nor guardians. They were simply household members. And their names weren't mom and dad. Their names were now Heather and Matthew. I no longer had a mom and dad. Just a Heather and a Matthew.