reversing the clocks ━ g.hawthorne [edited]

7. for the sake of us both.

Nash Hawthorne and I weren't the closest.

Who am I kidding? Nash and I were very close. But I hated it. Alisa and Nash started dating when they were 19, meaning I was 13 at the time. I trusted him as though he truly was my brother. I know that he loved my sister, but I grew up with a mom and dad who would literally burn a building down for each other. Literally.

At first, I didn't care how Alisa and Nash were. They were cute and healthy. But that lasted for a year, max.

Short bickering turned into genuine arguing which I got involved in constantly. Others found it funny but I despised every "Vic, which side are you on?" or "Vic, please tell your sister she's wrong" or anything that required me choosing a side. (Completely unrelated, but I chose my sister's every time.)

I loved Nash, at some point, of course. He was one of the male figures of my life-besides my dad-that really made me understand trust. And after what had happened to me, being trusted by Victoria Ortega when you're a male is a very rare opportunity.

Then again, I will always be the little Vicky who only wanted to be protected.

Now

"Por favor, Vic. You need to start taking your pills!" my sister yelled at me through the other side of the phone. I held the phone with my left hand as I pulled open the door of my Hawthorne-House-bedroom with my right.

"I am! Really, I am." I was brave enough to lie to Alisa during phone calls because I knew she wouldn't be able to throw something at me.

My sister lets out a string of swears in both English and Spanish. She proceeded to go on and on about how small tablets could save me from the stress and burden of a hysterical meltdown or as I like to call it: a mental party.

I walk from The Ortega wing and toward the beloved shooting range also known as a place to unleash stress. My sister and I spent hours here trying to shoot the target in different ways. Once, I had shot perfectly at a printed-out tweet that said, "The Ortegas should just die." My sister and I aimed almost perfectly at the profile picture of the user.

"I swear, Vic, you'll go loco like Tia Juana if you keep skipping pills!"

I snicker at the mention of my father's cousin whom we call our aunt. With just a simple promise and solemn swear that I'll take my meds, the call between my sister and I ended. I was still laughing at the scolding messages from my sister when I opened the door to the shooting range and saw a tall man standing close behind a blue-haired girl.

Their heads spin to face me and the man's face drop as his eyes set on me.

"Victoria?" the oldest Hawthorne brother called out to me.

My left hand fell to the side of me. The image of the two of them doing what him and my sister used to do tattooed my mind.

I cleared my throat that was clogged with all the swears and insults I wanted to yell at him and put on my best big-girl smile.

"Nash! What a surprise."

Worry and shock flashed through his eyes. "Vic... hey, kiddo. How've you been?" I wanted to tear my skin off at that nickname. At his accent. At him.

"Great and every synonym to that word." I shift my gaze toward the girl hid behind him. "You must be Libby! What a name, is it short for anything?"

The girl seemed taken aback. She doesn't look much like Avery. Somehow, she looked younger than her.

"It's just Libby." She whispered something to Nash and he whispered back to which she exclaimed, "Oh! Really?"

Libby looked back at me. Her eyes were lined with what seemed like kohl. "You're Ave's lawyer's sister?"

"Hmm, yes." And that lawyer has a name.

I kept the rest to myself.

Libby, Nash and I talked for a while until Libby excused herself. Then I was alone. With Nash.

I picked up a gun and cocked it. With my left arm stretched out, I shut my right eye, leaving my stronger eye staring at the target. I pull the trigger and watch as bits of board fly off the body-shaped target. I push down my soundproof headphones and pull out my phone from my pocket. I was avoiding Nash the best I could.

I suddenly felt the headphones being tugged away from its place around my neck. I spun and saw Nash holding the headphones up with a grin plastered on his face.

"I'll give it back to you if you talk to me," he vows.

"That's it?" He nods.

Fine. Talking isn't hard. It's just spitting out words.

"How was the ward?"

I couldn't help but snort at the query. "Wow, that's.... wow. So brave, you are."

"What's the point of beating 'round the bush, am I right? You've always hated indirect questions."

He remembers. "That's correct. To answer your question, it was shit. Better than whatever's happening now, though."

Nash's smirk fell. "You really think that?"

I studied his entire self-arms crossed, headphone clutched in his fist, eyes glaring at me. I loved him like he was my brother. I wanted him to be my brother.

I wanted to go back in time and avoid entering the psych ward. Maybe then, with a little bit of agreeing and consoling, Nash Hawthorne and Alisa Ortega would've still gotten married.

The things I'd do to make both my sister and I smile again.

I forced myself to do math equations in my head-a tip my sister gave me to stop myself from crying.

8 times 17. "I missed ya, kiddo."

-19 divided by 3. "Really, I did."

The square root of 86 is- "You're like a sister to me."

And I couldn't do it anymore.

"No, stop it! You don't get to say that. You-" I was a strong person, but when it came to anything that had to do with familial bonds, best believe I would start crying immediately. "You don't get to call me that. I was a sister to you. It's over now."

I let myself weep for a while. I stared at my feet planted into the ground.

"Vic-"

I held my hand up, cutting his sentence off. "You had that chance once, Nash," I swiped the tears away. "You had it, and you fucked it up. I don't blame you, but for the love of the God who protects us all, don't do this to me."

I walked out of the range; my hand clutched over my heart. I could take an insult to the face. I could take a death threat with a smile. But I couldn't take what he had just said. It was unfair.

To both me and the Victoria I once was.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

i fucking love anything thats under the category of sibling angst. im so very sorry for the slow update! life is a fucking mess like god gave his strongest battle to his weakest soldier!!! votes n comments are appreciated (like literally. its the only thing giving me motivation to write. i love the same 5 ppl who comment n vote everytime <3)

-nkr.