Broken Prism »
Squares & Circles
You think it would be awkward sleeping in a strange bed with strange bedsheets with walls that aren't white but some chocolate brown color. But you think that it's better, because at least it will be nice and you won't hear the awful yelling you hear at the asylum. Your big brother is sweet, kind and a good listener just like you'd hope he would be—just like he was when you were younger, like that time you ran home crying to him about the bully that lurked in the sandbox.
It's September and the sky looks like it's going to rain, your eyes fall to gaze at the house in front of you. You feel your blue-grays widen a little, if you didn't know any better you would say Mario's rich—a big white house with a nice lawn and iron gates around it—definitely nicer then the asylum. Mario is standing arm's length of you and you almost forgot he was there until you feel his shoulder bump into yours playfully.
"Nice?"
You hear the gears in your head turning and you nod simply, you smile so hard your lips hurt but you can't help it—it's been a while since you were this relieved, this happy. No more needles, no more annoying check ups, no more sitting on a lather couch and talking to some stranger who doesn't even listen to you—someone who sat and chewed gum and never wrote anything down on his notepad while he clenched his jaw, looking at the clock constantly.
You feel the urge to throw your arms around your sibling and squeeze the daylights out of him, thank him for saving you, but you feel like that might border on pathetic and he would look at you like you were strange.
"Here, let me help you with that--" Mario says softly, he grabs the dark blue suitcase from your grasp and heads towards the door, you can see him twirling his house keys around his fourth finger. You follow close behind and accidentally knock over a potted plant when you do, you wish you weren't so clumsy. You step onto the colorful tiled path in the grass to prevent yourself from breaking anything else, you hear the front door swing and knock onto the wall plaster violently.
"Here we go, I have a room a set up for you." Mario says brightly, taking a merry little step inside the house, you follow him inside and close the door behind you.
The floors are tiled white and there is a lot of nice furniture and there's a nice TV (even though you don't remember television at all since you've been locked up). It honestly doesn't look there's a spot of dirt in the house, you think that your big brother's wife is probably a neat-freak and that's good, then you both share something in common. When Mario isn't looking, you reach over to touch the petals on a rose which looks so real but turns out to be fake. Wow, even her dirt is fake, she's definitely one that likes to keep up appearances.
You jump up when you hear your suitcase fall at your feet.
"So, you don't mind carrying that up the stairs right?" Mario asks, his voice sounds far away and his eyes look like he's thinking about something. You nod slowly, bend down and snag the bag by it's handle. When you go up the flight of narrow wooden stairs you wonder why you feel like your falling.
It's dark in your room and the walls aren't colored brown like you thought, instead their white—like the asylum, but with a lot more furniture and a comfy, cozy feeling instead of that dark trapped-inside-a-snow globe feeling that you usually get. It's a nice change, of course. You fix your shoulder strap and look at Mario blankly, he feels you staring and looks at you, smiling. Your heart thumps rapidly in response. Yeah, it's nice to be with family.
"Does it feel like home?" Mario asks, his grin exposing nice, tooth paste commercial type teeth.
"Yeah."
¤ ( && ) Xx
Your in the kitchen looking through what's in the fridge just five minutes before she walks through the door. Outside, it's raining, hitting the windows and the ceiling—coming in big drops and swimming across the kitchen window like fish in an ocean. She walks in, her high heels wet and she shakes out her umbrella while looking around nervously. What you first notice is her hair: soft platinum blonde hair, curls that would probably feel like silk around your fingers. She's really pretty, you congratulate Mario in your head.
You watch her drop her bag on the floor, sigh, run her manacuried fingers through her hair and peel of her shoes. She throws them aside, they hit the wall with a loud Clack! Clack! You watch drops of water run down her hairline and watch her use the back of her hand to wipe them away. She looks agitated, so you cower in the kitchen, hiding behind the wall next to the pretty marble counter.
You dodge behind the wall when you hear her heels clacking against the white titled floor, when she comes in the first thing she does is go to the fridge and take out a bottled water. Which, for some reason you think is funny, she turns around and notices you and then jumps. Spooked.
She leans in close, her blue eyes narrowing into slits and she looks confused at first.
"Who are you?"
You suck in a breath, you try to answer but instead her hands latch onto your cheeks and start pulling.
"You look just like my husband!" She gasps, eyes beaming and mouth smiling. "Luigi! It's you!"
When she hugs you, all you can think about is how her breasts are pressed up to your chest and how uncomfortable you feel. You let out a set of false laughter that's too loud, you don't hug her back, your arms hanging limply at your sides. When Mario comes in, it's all about greeting his wife and then saying something predictable like 'Well, I see you've gotten acquented'.
"Hi, my names Peach." She says cheerily.
Your hand feels heavier for some reason, but you shake her hand it doesn't feel right but you don't want to think about that so you shrug the feeling off. She asks you if you think you'll be comfortable here, you say yes, but you actually feel displaced. A square being forced through a circular hole.
When Peach leaves, Mario stays behind.
He's illuminated by the lamps in the kitchen when he move towards you and plants a kiss on your cheek.
"It's nice to have you back."
