Antihero (Indefinite Hiatus D: )

Chapter Forty-five

The good thing about being an advanced human is that I heal quickly. The bad thing about being an advanced human is also that I heal quickly.

It had been less than three days since Christopher and Mira saved me from the depths of our basement, yet I was already healed enough to play catch-up on work. My once broken fingers were moving again and my achey body felt brand new after a few good hours of sleep. I hated it, but it was also a blessing. I'm not sure how I would have survived this household had I not been a quick healer.

On one hand I couldn't wait to leave the house and get away from the prison that was my bedroom. On the other, being healed up meant going to work and becoming executioner for all Affected ARC caught in my absence. Christopher slumped into the chair next to me and glanced at my usual breakfast unhappily.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked him, sipping on my tea.

"Why are you going to work? You should be resting still." A maid placed a hearty plate of food in front of Christopher and he began eating. I remember the days when he used to eat like a wild animal, and here he was now taking a modest bite of toast as though he had all the time and food in the world. He did really. Oh, how things change.

"I'm healed. I'm rested. It's time to go to work."

He wasn't convinced, but Mira left no room for him to argue as she breezed into the room.

"Work today, Michey?" She asked, flicking her long skirt to the side as she slipped into her chair.

"Are you going out?" Her clothes were way too nice for a day at home. Plus, her clothes were practically screaming 'I'd make a good housewife', which meant she was visiting Paulo and possibly some of his extended family members.

"I was hoping you could drop me off at Paulo's on your way to work; he's got some family reunion thing and..." she trailed off as her eyes caught Christopher's less than impressed face. "What's wrong, Chris?"

"He's fine," I insisted, waving my hand dismissively as Christopher closed his mouth and glared at me slightly. I glared back. "I can drop you off, as long as Dad says it's okay."

"Oh, he said it's fine." Of course he would. Mira could do anything if there was a possibility to expand the DeMarlo family name.

I nodded and finished my breakfast off, pushing it out of the way. Mira drank her smoothie and watched me carefully; the discomfort from her stare built up until there was a hole in my brain from her gaze.

"What?" I snapped at her.

"You seem off."

"I agree," Christopher interjected. "I think it's too soon for him to go back to work."

"No it's not," I groaned, rolling my eyes as I stood up. "I'm fine."

"Whatever you say." Christopher looked unconvinced as he sipped his orange juice. Mira snickered.

"You've really found your voice, Chris," Mira said with a smirk in my direction. 

"I wish he hadn't," I muttered, stomping out of the room. Plus, he had no authority to be sitting there boasting about when I went to work. 

Mira was right, though. Christopher had found his voice. And he was using it for all the wrong things. I swear, he's either saying something bad about me or he's being sarcastic to me—there was no inbetween. Where did the good old silent Christopher go? The one who looked nervous and unsure and followed me everywhere?

I slammed my bedroom door shut and realised they were right. I was off. I was mad. I felt on edge. My whole body was tingling in anticipation and my mind felt overwhelmed, unfocussed. My fist slammed into the wall, breaking through plaster board as I cursed DeMarlo. Every single time he put me through a 'lesson' I came out all fucked up and it took weeks for my mind to go back to normal. Here I am, waiting for a drip, any drip, so that I could cling onto the clarity my body thought it would bring me.

The kicker is that even if I did hear a drip, it wouldn't actually do anything for me. It would make me more on edge. More nervous. There's no way I could sit there happily and listen to a tap drip, but that's what my body thought I wanted. 

I kicked some plaster to the side and stomped over to my dresser, pulling out a black tie. I tied it neatly but in jerky, angry movements that annoyed me even more. Whatever. I kicked my slippers off and picked up my black shoes, angrily making my way to the door. A large crack in my door caught my attention and I glared at it evilly. What else could go wrong?

I slipped my shoes on and kicked the door roughly, splitting it down the middle as half of it fell to the floor and the other half hung from the frame. A maid scurried out of the bathroom and down the hall, her eyes avoiding me like I was some rabid animal. Probably was, to be honest. Christopher stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at me curiously as I stomped past him and Mira, who poked her head around his broad shoulders. 

"What happened to your door?" Christopher asked, but the defiant look in his eyes told me he knew exactly what happened.

"Are you coming or not?" I hissed to both of them as I descended past, not bothering to reply to Christopher's smart-aleck remark.

The drive to Paulo's house would have been silent, if Mira hadn't felt the nervous need to fill every minute of the drive with her incessant babbling. Still, I enjoyed the fact that she tried. I think the driver did too. Christopher listened to her attentively, but every now and then I caught his eyes watching my leg as it bounced impatiently.

I really wanted to spill some blood. I didn't care whose it was at the moment. Heck, I'd willingly spill Christopher's at the moment...actually, I take that back. I probably wouldn't, but if he kept making stupid comments then maybe I'd reconsider.

"Thanks for the lift, Michey," Mira said softly, her small hand touching my bouncing knee. It stopped immediately.

I smiled at her, "I didn't do a whole lot." It's true—it wasn't even like I drove her. I just let her sit in the car with me as the driver detoured to where she wanted to go.

"You know what I mean." She jumped out of the car and looked at Christopher. "See you later, Chrissy," she teased him, poking her tongue out at him as he groaned.

"I told you not to call me that," he complained, but it fell on deaf ears as she shut the car door and ran to Paulo's gate with a wave. As per usual, we waited until she was inside to drive off.

After a minute of silence, Christopher looked at me and opened his mouth.

"Shut up, Christopher," I hissed at him, watching as he closed his mouth before turning to watch the scenery roll past.