Time After Time

1

"I'm home!" I yell, kicking off my Vans, tossing the house key into the bowl and walking into the house with the bag carrying the muffin in my hand. There's no answer. I creep towards the stairs, looking around. Maybe I wasn't loud enough. "Mom! Dad! I'm hooome!"

"Mackenzie!" a familiar voice hollers back. Footsteps rush down the stairs and a dark-haired kid who barely reaches my elbow surges towards me, leaping off the last three steps with a loud thump. Assuming it's him-not being able to recognize people by their face makes life that much harder-I give my brother a big hug, as if we haven't seen each other in three months instead of three hours.

"Hey, kiddo," I say.

"Where were you?"

"Wandering around town. After all, once I start school tomorrow I sure as hell won't have the time to check this area out," I reply, leaning against the stair railing, "And, I swung by Allie's Tea and Coffeehouse, that café you said looked pretty cool. See, I got ya a muffin." I hold out the bag and Quentin snatches it, peeking inside.

He looks up at me with a wide grin. "Looks great," he says, "Thanks."

"Where're Mom and Dad?"

Quentin shrugs. "Went out. No idea where, though. They promised they would be back around dinnertime with some food, though."

"Will do," I say, looking out the nearest window, catching sight of the back of some neighbor's head. "How long have they been gone?"

"Less than an hour, I think," Quentin shifts from foot to foot, "I think go back to my room, now. Thanks for the muffin, by the way, Mackenzie." He gives me one last hug before scampering back up the stairs. I stare after him, smiling faintly.

I slowly unbutton my red peacoat before shrugging it off, tossing it onto a nearby couch. With nothing else to do, I am about to follow my little brother upstairs to get to my room-maybe sneak in a little nap before Mom and Dad get back home-when the doorbell rings. I hate it when it happens, the sound is just so goddamned annoying. More than that, I don't want to be the one who answers it. I don't want to embarrass myself or hurt anyone by accident. But who else is going to answer the door, Quentin?

"Get the door!" I hear him shout from his room. "Geddit!"

Releasing an audible sigh-I was hoping he would volunteer to get it-my feet trudge towards the entrance. I take a little peek through the peephole even though it's useless; I know I won't recognize him anyway. But when I see his face, I'm kind of glad I got the door myself because damn, he's kind of hot. My hand wraps around the golden doorknob and I gingerly pull it open, my eyes immediately meeting warm brown ones.

"Uh, hey," he says in a somewhat-familiar voice, raising an eyebrow, "You're the daughter of that new family that just moved in last week, right?"

My brow furrows. His voice tugs at my memory a little. Before I reply, I give him a careful once-over. Dark brown hair that's somewhat curled and messed. A strong, lean-muscled frame that suggests he's a runner. Track star, I'm thinking. Then my eyes fall to the thick maroon scarf wrapped around his neck, more as a fashion statement than a necessity, though the wind here is getting a bit chilly. A simply white long-sleeved sweater, dark blue straight jeans and black shoes. My gaze drifts back to his face, which is staring at mine amusedly, and some sense of realization hits me. Oh shit. Even the way he dresses-especially with that scarf...

The boy leans against the doorframe, one arm holding onto it, other hand plunged into his pocket. Oh shit. Even his mannerisms...

I can't even think anymore. These little things just trigger too much in my mind, and that night comes back to me so clearly. Screaming, struggling, lots of crying. Enough to ruin my mascara pretty badly. Then stumbling out of the room with as much dignity as I could muster. I was sort of messed up with all that alcohol, but not so much to forget what had occurred. Fleeing the house-a blur of vomit, grinding girls, Dubstep and vodka-and falling face first into grass. I see in front of me only darkness, until someone grabs me roughly by the wrist and pulls me up unsteadily.

More screaming. I forgot most of that, but I remember tasting blood in my mouth. Metallic and horrible.

"Théo?" I screech, looking at this incredulously, "What the fuck?"

"Mackenzie-" he starts. How the hell does he even know my name? It must be him, it must be.

No time to think, just do. My hands are balled so tightly my palms hurt from my fingernails digging into them. I swear my entire vision turns red-with fury? Blood?-for a few moments. And it's just like the party three months ago, everything becomes a strange blur of events. Maybe it's just some divine force, or maybe it's just me, but it's my hand that raises suddenly and slaps him across the face and let out the only four words that are on my mind in a shrill scream.

"Get the fuck out."

~*~*~

A/N : 'Runaway' on the side because it's the best Maroon 5 song ever. And credits to @_MyAmour for the cover <3 Character banner of Mackenzie on the side, creds to @dreamingofperfect x