Just One Look
Chapter 23: World of War
I woke up to a literal family war, with marshmallow shooters and tootsie rolls. Forts were built on both sides of the main floor of the house, one in the kitchen and one in the living room. Dad and Dean were hollering and shooting at one another, I walked through the battlefield and was maimed with unwrapped tootsie rolls and oversized marshmallows. I deflected many and caught two, shoving them in my mouth.
"Hey!" Dean yelled, he stepped out from the couch and shot me with a marshmallow, I stuck out my tongue and rolled my eyes. "Give those back!"
"I can't, they're digesting. Unless of course, you want vomit." I retorted, walking into the kitchen. Dad was crouched on the ground, his back to the island. He was wearing ski goggles and a pink bike helmet from my childhood. I chuckled and opened the fridge.
"Whatever, bitch." Dean spat under his breath but not quite quiet enough for me to hear. I turned around, with the fridge still open behind me.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing." He said loudly, I turned to Dad and huffed.
"Did you hear that?" I asked him, he shrugged. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the juice from the fridge and a glass from the cabinet. The war continued as I gathered my breakfast. "Hey, Dad where's Mom?" I asked, again he shrugged. "Dean!" I yelled, he stood up from behind the couch. "Where's Mom?"
"Don't ask me, how should I know?" He snapped.
"Quit being so rude." I ordered.
"What's it to you?"
"You're being rude, and it's not nice." I said, Dad stood up, sensing the tension.
"You're not the one to tell me, God, you're so annoying!" Dean exclaimed.
"I'm annoying? I haven't seen you for almost a week."
"Dean, what has gotten into you?" My Mom asked stepping into the kitchen from the study.
"Nothing." He snapped,
"Don't use that tone with me." Mom demanded, placing a hand on her hip.
"I'm going to use whatever tone I want." Mom stepped back, her temper flaring.
"Well, it's not gonna work with me."
"Go to hell!" He yelled, Mom was completely baffled at this comment. Dad bounded up from the ground and pointed his shooter at Dean.
"Hold thy tongue, or perish!" Dad threatened while also attempting to lighten the mood.
"What are you going to do? Shoot me with some marshmallows?" Mom walked over to him and backhanded him across the cheek. Dad and I looked at each other with worried eyes. This was not going to end well. There was a punch thrown, Dad and I quickly intervened, holding Dean away from my fuming Mother. She had big tears in her eyes and a blotchy red face. This always happens when she gets upset. She was screaming at Dean, about how disrespectful he had gotten. He was screaming at her, nasty comments about her figure, and her personality. Only further proving Mom's point of his recent attitude.
"Mom." I said, backing her into the study.
"Oh my God!" She screamed at last, I closed the door of the study. Mom sat down on the loveseat and started to ball. "He's never been like this-" She sniffed, "before. He's always been- my little Dean." She put her head in her hands. "What did I do? Am I really that horrible of a mother?" She asked me, I wrapped my arms around her and whispered calming nothings into her ear.
"We love you, Mom. All of us, even when stuff like this happens, we love you." I reassured, she nodded and continued to cry. I could hear my Dad and my brother fighting loudly in the living room. I couldn't make out their words very well but I knew they were mean and fiery. Since when was Dean the rebellious child? Since when was he this cruel to his family? What changed him? Who changed him?
"I'm gonna go," Mom declared, getting up from the seat.
"You're leaving?" I was confused, she sniffed and wiped her eye on her sleeve, she nodded.
"Just to Grandma's, I should be back in the morning." She shuffled around the study gathering work and a change of clothes. She had clothing strewn all over the household.
"Do you want me to come with you?" I didn't want Mom to go there alone.
"No, no. You stay here with your father." She began, "Maybe talk some manners into that brother of yours." She finished bitterly. I nodded as she zipped a duffle bag closed and exited the room. I watched her walk briskly to the garage door, grab her coat, keys, then walk out the door. She didn't even say goodbye to Dad or Dean who stopped fighting when she stormed through. After the car pulled out of the driveway, I started to cry. I knew she would come back, but I felt like I needed my Mom with me again. I felt like this wouldn't be the first time she would leave and I could see the ugly conclusion of my family. I didn't want my family to break apart, I felt like I had something to do with this. Like this was all my fault.
Dad sent Dean to his room, to think about what he had done, what he had said. My Dad entered the study and sat down next to me.
"It's okay. She'll come back. She always comes back." He said, rubbing my back and kissing my forehead.
As the week progressed, Mom did come home and Dean apologized for his behavior. However, things didn't go back to normal. We had to watch what we said around Dean. We had to be careful as to what topics we selected at dinner, he became the unpredictable volcano. Ready to blow at any moment.
The tension that ran through the house started to wear on my parents, I could hear them bickering in the study or in their bedroom, depending on what time it was. The arguments were about little things like dishes, laundry. So I picked up some of the work, I did laundry, dishes, I vacuumed. I went to the extent of doing the groceries one day with the help of Bruce, but at any rate, I was doing more work than normal, trying to relieve the astriction in the house. Nothing seemed to help, tension always was at its peak during dinner. No one spoke, only ate. All I heard was the clinking of forks on plates.
"Could you pass the salt, Catrina?" Dad asked politely.
"Sure." I handed him the salt. I peeked over at Dean who scowled as he ate his dinner. He looked like a smoldering fire.
"Dean?" I asked kindly.
"What." He snapped.
"Do you want another biscuit? Or more soup?" I asked he grunted and nodded. I got up from the table and took his bowl to fill it up with more soup. There was no spark of conversation while I was gone. I grabbed two biscuits from the pizza stone and slid them on the plate. I carried both of the platters back to the dining room and tripped over a hill in the rug. The hot soup went flying in the air, partnered with two speeding dough bullets. A biscuit hit the table, one hit the floor, and Dean got a chest full of steaming soup.
I caught myself in mid trip and saved the dishes. Dean didn't say anything, he calmly got up from his seat and left the room. I stared at the back of his head, watching it closely. I looked at Mom, then Dad, who had the exact same expression on their faces. What was he doing? Why didn't he blow up as we expected? He came back with an angry face and a frying pan. Nothing was said, but action was taken. I ducked when Dean swung the cast iron pan and punched him square in the nose. Dad jumped from his seat and charged Dean. Dean, pursued me as swiftly as he could swing the pan. Mom watched with fear the scene unfold before her. Dean was no longer just becoming an issue. He was an enormous problem. He swung again, missing my face by an inch at most. I felt the whoosh of the metal pass my nose. Dad kicked out Dean's knees and got on his back, disarming him and taking his hands behind his back. Dean kicked and screamed, trying to get free.
"Get my handcuffs!" Dad demanded holding Dean with much effort. I ran to my parent's room and seized my Dad's utility belt. I pulled out the handcuffs and ran back downstairs. Both of my parents were on top of my fifteen-year-old brother, holding him with all their might. I gave my Dad the handcuffs and he slapped them on Dean's wrists. "Stay down, Dean. I don't want to hurt you." My Dad's voice cracked. "You're under arrest for attempted assault, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, ca, and will be held against you in the court of law." Tears formed in my Dad's eyes. I helped Mom off the ground as Dad yanked Dean up. Dean glared at me, his shirt dripping with soup. Mom clung to my arm, cutting off circulation to my hand. "Go open the door Cassidy, I'll be back in a few hours." Dad said, she obeyed and Dad got Dean in the back of our car. I watched them pull out of the drive and into the night. Mom started sobbing, unable to control the emotions. I didn't know what to do. I felt that I needed to be with my mother but at the same time, I needed to be alone in my dark room, wrapped in my blanket. I couldn't really process the new development that had taken place just moments ago. My brother had tried to harm me.
"I'm gonna go, do something." I said numbly, stumbling up the stairs to my room. My mind was blank, the world around me was spinning. I had a hard time wrapping my brain around Dean's past behavior. This seemed so sudden. Never before was he this violent. It was weird. Did Joker send him over the edge this time? Was that experience too much for him? Had he been holding this insanity in? If so, for how long? What was going to happen now?
The phone started to ring, I jumped at the sound. I rolled over in my bed and looked at the caller I.D. It was Bruce, but I didn't want to talk right now. All I wanted to do was sleep. So I crawled into my bed and snuggled up. I was warm, but I my core was cold. I was scared. I loved my brother, but this was scary. I attempted to sleep, but sleep never came. I attempted to do homework, but I had no concentration left in my brain. So I laid in my bed alone, thinking about what was happening in my life. My brother may have just tried to kill me, and my Mother is overworked, my Dad is never home, and I'm busy trying not to get killed. Within the past year, I've been kidnapped twice, my best friend was murdered, and I found out that she was an alias to my abduction. Karen may or may not have been abused by her boyfriend who was also an alias to my hijack. My life was a mess, my life is a mess.