polarize :: [hood]

[i.viii. dollhouse]

So, when Royce got home, she immediately went to her brother's room.

"Chris?" She'd called, knocking softly on his bedroom door. "You in there?"

"Come in."

She did, slipping quietly into the room and closing the door behind her.

Chris looked up from whatever he was doing on the computer. "Hey, Roycie."

"Chris," she smirked, walking silently to his bed. "Quit watching porn, ew," she'd teased, elliciting a short laugh from her brother. Chuckling to herself, she'd stretched out in the middle of her brother's mattress and extended all of her limbs as her brother watched her with amusement.

"Uh," he began, turning on a swivel in the chair at his desk. "What's up, girl?"

Royce shot him a quick glare, playful nature evaporating. "Really, Chris? What's up? C'mon. Let's use the power of deduction here."

He laughed. "Royce, if this is about Dina, then-"

"You're damn skippy it's about Dina," Royce snapped. "What'd you think?"

"Look, Royce you gotta chill-"

"Chill?" Royce laughed. "I'll chill when it's cold out. I'll chill when St. Augustine actually lets me skip Call to Prayer. Hell, I'll fucking chill and watch Netflix, Christian. Dina coming here to where I live does not make me want to chill."

"I'm not happy either, Royce," Chris said, "but I'm trying to make the best of it, alright? It's gonna go by way smoother and way quicker if you pretend like she wasn't-"

"Fuckin' terrible?" Royce snorted. "Uh huh. Okay."

Chris choked on a laugh. "You have no fuckin' chill, Royce."

"What?" She'd exclaimed, "Am I just supposed to forget she doesn't give a fuck about me? You're good with that?"

"Of course I'm not good with it, Royce," Chris retorted. "But, you've gotta grow up one day and realize you can't walk around here being mad at her forever."

Royce's teeth clenched. "That's part of 'growing up,' now, Chris?" She glared. "Didn't know that's what it meant to be a real adult. You're the shit, aren't you?" She exclaims, rising from the bed.

"Royce, you know I don't mean it like that-"

"Sure you do, Chris. You know everything, don't you? You know exactly how I'm feeling, 'cause you always do, right? You and Paige, you always know what's best for me, right? And now, you've only been in college for a few weeks but it's cool 'cause you're a brand new person, aren't you?"

"Royce," Christian had frowned, "where's all this coming from, girl?"

"Look, it doesn't matter," she huffed. "Fucking forget I said anything," she'd finished, stalking from the bedroom in a huff.

Yeah, okay, that was dramatic, thought Royce, as she ran her hand through her hair and stared angrily around the hallway, but fucking damn it, this wasn't fair. Was no one understanding how big of a deal this is to her? Was no one going to try to understand that you don't just invite the woman who left you and your brother at home alone for nearly ten days because she'd gone off chasing a high?

So, for about two hours, Royce lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore that bubble of anxiety in the pit of her stomach and couldn't help that her thoughts drifted from Chris - the dumbass - to Dina...

Royce was eight the second-to-last time she'd seen her.

By then, it had been four years since her dad remarried.