Dead Boy Walking

11 - G L A S S

I rolled my eyes. "Don't pretend you come to see us for anything less, either," I retorted.

Louis took long strides toward his open plan kitchen and clicked the kettle on. The sound of water boiling slowly filled the tension and if he replied, I didn't hear.

Kingsley appeared from around the corner and made slow steps towards the beat-up sofa. Then, he inspected the walls carefully and took in every flaw with a frown. He saw the rug on the floor with its distasteful, purple tassels and scowled at how out of place it was within the colourless room. "You know what? I'd rather be caught by the police and rotting in a cell than here."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course you'd say that."

"Don't get angry at me because your uncle Louis couldn't pick out appropriate furniture even if it bit him in the ass."

I hid the smile that pulled at my lips.

"Do you want tea?" Louis called from the kitchen.

"No," I answered. I want money for a train ticket.

"Maybe we should just steal the money," Kingsley shrugged carelessly before collapsing onto the couch. The pillows behind him didn't move.

Carefully, I sat beside him on the three-seater that smelt of lynx and coffee. It was an option, surely. One that I was way too scared to even consider longer than a second. Even if he didn't feel like it, Louis was family.

There wasn't a television in the living room and I wondered what he did when bored. It didn't seem like he read or knitted. Perhaps a guy like Louis didn't get bored, forever having something else to kill his time with. Maybe that was why his house looked like it did. He probably wasn't here enough to notice.

It didn't take long for Louis to join me on his couch. He sat the opposite end to me and it left Kingsley between us. My uncle put his mug on the glass coffee table in front of the sofa and it steamed with the bitter smell of strong coffee.

We revelled in the quiet for a moment as the city sounds faded into nothing. Louis couldn't see Kingsley, obviously, but it didn't stop me from worrying. Every exhale, every blink, every twitch had me on the edge of my seat.

He sighed to break the silence but it was a pathetic attempt. Nothing about us together was natural and so the prospect of striking up a normal conversation was silly. Kingsley clicked his fingers quietly and it made my jaw tighten.

I wasn't sure what to say. Neither of us wanted to bring up my mother, or father, or anything along the lines of family. We were limited in topics.

He sighed once again, this time it was forced through his clenched teeth.

"Quincy," he began. He drawled out my name, the hint of a French accent bit through. It reminded me of Mum. "Your grandparents miss you."

He was talking about his parents - Mum's parents.

"I know it's weird after what happened with Amélie but they're in bits, mind. Maybe you should just give them a ring, you know, let them know that you're alright."

"Louis," I warned. I didn't want to talk about them, or Mum. I just wanted money for the train.

I looked down to the writing on my wrist before clenching my hands into fists. I let my nails dig into my palm and anchor me back to reality. Coming here was cruel on both of us. Neither Louis nor I were ready to talk about real issues. I couldn't look at him without seeing the mother who left me three years ago, who fled without even saying goodbye.

"Now don't get me wrong, kid," he continued. "I'm not saying that what Amélie did was the best but she's always been like that, I didn't expect anything less. You know I was surprised that she stayed as long as she did considering there was nothing in it for her. But, anyway, what I'm saying is, my parents did nothing wrong. Don't shut them out just because you had a shit excuse for a mother."

I stood abruptly startling both Louis and Kingsley whose eyes snapped to mine. Kingsley's warm honey orbs held concern while Louis' swirling brown were angry. Much like his sister, Louis had a short fuse.

"I think I'd rather walk home than listen to this," I snarled.

"Don't be like that, now," he chuckled. As if I was overreacting, his eyes crinkled with amusement at my words. Meanwhile, my anger boiled from the inside out causing my skin to prickle with fury. "You're being a drama queen."

"Me not wanting to see the grandparents who helped their daughter - my mother, run away from her family is making me a drama queen?" I demanded. "She left without a word, you know. Dad was heartbroken, I didn't have a Mum, and nobody knew why! They could have saved a lot of hurt, and so could she. But nobody did. Because just like you said, that's who Amélie was. She came and left as she pleased but this shouldn't have been one of those decisions. She had a husband and a kid for fuck sake. And you all sit there like that's just life, well, it shouldn't be. You all had a part to play in it and because of that, you will never be forgiven. I mean, I just came here for money, for Christ sake. But, I'm leaving. Good day."

I turned on my heel with my head held high. As the words I'd built up inside myself for years since Mum left tumbled out from my lips, I felt almost empty now without them as my emotional barrier. My heart tinged with guilt at the monologue, I knew it wasn't Louis' fault that his sister was bad at being a mother, but his ignorance was enough to set me off.

I didn't check to see if Kingsley was following me, I turned to reach the stairs but Louis' hushed words caught my attention.

"You're just like her," he called. I stopped dead and craned my head to look at him.

My uncle Louis had stood from the sofa and while he was taller than me, stronger too, his face that resembled Mum's so closely made it impossible to feel intimidated.

My eyes narrowed into slits and my hands shook from anger. It coursed through my veins like poison and this feeling towards my Mum's side of the family felt natural to me. Like a habit you couldn't shake, I'd always despise them for everything they did to Dad.

Tears pooled at my eyes from frustration and my legs froze in place. This wasn't fair and nothing in my mind made sense. With sharp breaths through my flared nostrils, I forced my legs to work again. I propelled one in front of the other and they moved stiffly as if I was stuck in mud.

I squared up to my uncle Louis with pursed lips and burning lungs.

He scoffed. "I'm surprised she didn't take you with her when she left. You both would have been the perfect little pair, two moody cows."

"Fuck you," I spat through clenched teeth.

Then, as if I were in some sort of daze, my body worked on its own accord. Within a blink of an eye, I had raised my arms and shoved him forcefully back. He stumbled carefully on his feet, his brown eyes widened in shock before he descended backwards.

I heard the glass shattering before I dared to lower my eyes and see the damage I'd caused. Kingsley was still sat at the sofa, mouth open. I was certainly screwed now.

The glass from the coffee table littered the floor around us and Louis' crumpled body sprawled on top of it all. He'd fallen straight through the table and his scorching hot coffee left a dark stain on the carpet beneath.

"What did I do?" I whispered, voice broken. Finally, the tears fell down my cheeks slowly but still, I couldn't find it in my heart to sympathise with him.

"Hey, hey, hey. Let's not get worked up about this," Kingsley soothed when he stood in front of me. He cupped my cheeks and dried the tears, blocking my view from the sight of my uncle's broken body.

"I-is he still a-alive?"

"Don't worry about that, now. Come on, I'll get some money from his coat pocket and meet you outside, alright?"

When he pushed my light hair out of my face, I wanted to crawl into a ball and cry. My walls had deteriorated and the emotions ran free now. I was so damn tired and ready to pass out from it all.

Kingsley pulled me into his chest and I shivered. The cold he held ran bone-deep but at that moment, I indulged in it. I let the ice calm my racing heart and clutched onto the dead boy with deep breaths.

Louis would be fine. I'd be fine. Kingsley would be fine.