My Little Decoy

♪ Feel The Pressure ♪ {25}

"I can feel the pressure
It's getting closer now
We're better off without you." -Pressure

The sound of autumn leaves crunching away below my combat boots, mixed in with the smell of cigarettes in the air signalled my approach towards my neighborhood. My hands were clenched into fists inside my pockets and I forced myself not to shiver from the chilly september climate.

As I passed through the development, there were some people outside, either smoking or doing God knows what. Their stares were making me feel claustrophobic as I felt their eyes on me. There was only another turn around the block before I would reach the dead end and turn left onto my driveway.

After eating at Tilted Reality's mansion, I insisted that Blake didn't drive me home, preferring to walk instead. It took a lot of convincing, but I rather he didn't follow me to my humble abode just yet. It was just too risky. Fortunately, I managed to escape but not empty-handed. They gave me their numbers just in case and said next that time I came to visit, I should bring the rest of my band with me.

With a sigh that caused the air in front of my mouth to billow around from the cold, I turned the corner of Gary Lane and viewed my apartment up ahead. The hinges were well worn out and cracked, occasionally letting out creaks in the breeze. Yellowed and tarnished, the once pearly white walls decorated with christmas ornaments from nearly five years ago welcomed me; as did the ripped up sofa sitting comfortably on the front lawn. Only a few feet away from the front door, I peered through the glass of the cracked windows and noticed Marco sitting in the loveseat, and it seemed like he was staring at the television which wasn't even turned on.

Unsure whether or not he was asleep, I reached under the doormat and took out the spare key, unlocking the door as quietly as I could and walking in without a sign. I had gotten quite good at sneaking in silently; so good that I would put ninjas to shame. Holding my breath, I stepped around the broken bottles that I hadn't had time to clean up yet and cautiously made my way over to my step-father.

He was situated upright in his chair, his head lolling to one side in a seemingly uncomfortable manner. In his left hand was a beer bottle and the other possesed the TV remote. Was he just staring at the blackened screen for no reason?

"Marco?" I whispered, closing the distance between us and peering over his shoulder to scan his face. His eyes were closed, mouth open as I realized the sound of quiet snores exiting them. I exhaled lightly and snatched the bottle out of his hands before placing it on the coffee table in front of the television. My hands groping around the floor, I winced as I felt glass slice my palm, but continued searching anyway.

Finally retrieving the blanket, I waved it around before settling it onto Marco's sleeping form, offering a small sigh when I heard him murmur dreamily, "Amelia?"

I leaned back, settling myself against the frame of the couch beside Marco's sleeping form, cocking my head to one side and examining him. When Marco was asleep, the anger and hurt seemed to fade away, and his innocence shown. He was just heartbroken; he was just tired of it all. There were no creases or wrinkles on his face, and he even adorned a small smile as he dreamt. Sometimes I would wonder what he dreamed about, though I knew it would be thoughts of my mother. I dreamed about her too; although my dreams usually turned into nightmares.

Reaching over, I adjusted the blanket just under his chin, half-smiling. He looked younger... nicer. Like the old Marco that I used to know. He'll come back one day, I just knew it. But when he does, I wouldn't be there.

If I reminded him of my mother, it would be better if I was gone. He could get better; I could get better. I wouldn't have to have to seem him behind bars, I would see him smiling and reaching his arms out to me for a warm embrace. I wouldn't have to put up with the pain anymore. We could both start over. We can both be saved.