Under the City Lights

Assholes and Meltdowns

There are days where I don't feel like going home, and that afternoon was just one of those days.

Don't get me wrong, I like going home. It was just however this time I felt ashamed of myself that I made my father upset, and the tension in the house would be heavy in the heart.

After class I decided to go home anyway. I hadn't had a chance to talk to Natalia, and I didn't want to yet. I haven't seen her the whole day and that was a first, but it didn't matter now. Her name didn't appear on the notifications tab on my phone, and it didn't bother me at all.

I parked my blood red Ford Mondeo in the garage beside the house and I noticed one of the cars was missing. Dad wasn't home.

That gave me a while to breathe because I wasn't sure how I would be able to face him after yesterday when I left him feeling bad, and that I let the feeling rebound towards me.

I closed the garage door just after I made sure that my car was locked and walked to the front porch, stepping onto the threshold of the house as I keyed the door open.

The house would have been dead silent, but I wasn't alone. My sister must have gone home early.

Passing by Felicity's room like I would usually do when I go to my room, my eyes have spotted her door hanging open and I caught a glimpse of her back as she was probably talking to someone on the phone.

"I'm never, ever going to forgive you for what you did."

Her voice was hoarse and shaky.

She was, undoubtedly, sobbing.

My curiosity suddenly got the best of me and as a reflex, I stayed outside, hiding and leaning on the wall next to the entryway of her room.

"You're sick and you're a fucking asshole, Bryce!"

She shrieked, and it pained me that she's like that.

I cringed, but I kept on listening.

"I hate you."

The way she had said those words—so vile, so unforgiving and so full of hatred— scared the living hell out of me. And to think they weren't even meant for me.

I heard a loud smashing sound, which caused me to flinch, followed by hectic breathing and sniffing.

Hurried footsteps were drawing closer and I wanted to get away as quickly as I can before she catches me snooping around, but I ended up bumping into her.

It was the first time she looked at me that day.

Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, her cheeks and nose were burning red. I thought she was going to explode in ire, but she didn't.

Her stunned expression as she saw me crumbled away and she threw her arms around me, nearly knocking me off my feet. She sobbed as she held me tighter.

I felt a tear staining my pale cheek as the bag that hung loosely on my shoulder sagged and dropped to the floor with a loud thump! from the books I was carrying.

Here, clinging to me as if I were a lifeline, was my dear sister at the weakest I've seen her, and I couldn't describe the hurt that's been piercing through me at that time.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her close, sinking my face onto the crook of her neck. I rubbed her back as soothingly as I can as her shoulders shook and her weeping a sad echo in my ears.

She was like a time-bomb; ticking away slowly and calmly and then at the last straw would divulge its power, therefore causing terrible destruction around it. But at the same time a beautiful flower wilting away, trying its hardest not to lose its bloom although it clearly was.