Crazy
Fourteen
Salt in the Wound
Chloe hated today. Come to think of it, so did Tori, Rae and the boys. Royce bragged about his uncle. Liam didn't say a word the entire day, only pressed his face deeper into his shoulder and Ramon quietly explained that their parents were in jail.
"Will you shut it?" Ramon hissed, his face twisted as Royce started up his loud bragging once more.
The bruised boy paused, carelessly draping a leg on the arm of the loveseat, his dark eyes crinkling. "Nah," he sneered and continued.
Chloe tucked her toes under the edge of the blanket and ignored the overwhelming sensation of being choked. Even after twelve years since her death, the wound was still fresh, and it never seemed to close, always aching.
She pressed her cheek into her knees, trying to block out Royce's voice with her headphones, the vibrations of her music bouncing her ears. Her vision blurred.
When she looked up, the TV was off and Royce was lying on the floor, holding his cheek in surprise.
Liam loomed above him, fist poised to strike again and she spotted Liz scrambling off the couch, launching herself at the confrontation that was no doubt ready to explode in a flurry of fists and screams.
Chloe turned down her music.
"Stop it!" the tall, blonde girl begged, wrapping her muscular arms around Liam's waist and attempting to drag him backwards, only succeeding in slipping and hitting the floor.
Royce's eyes burned with hatred as he pushed himself to his feet. His cheek was swelling, a bruise forming, faintly red from skin on bone.
Chloe felt a wave of horror wash over her, spilling icy tendrils down her spine, setting off goose bumps on her thighs and forearms. Every hair stood on end and her scalp prickled with fear.
"Stop," she squeaked as she untangled her legs from the blanket.
Liam's lip curled as he backed up.
Royce's eyes barely lifted to her as he advanced, slowly.
"Stop," she repeated in a raspy voice, kicking away the blanket and hastily stepping between them.
With a loud growl, the curly-haired boy turned and stalked away. His footsteps pounded the stairs. A door slammed, the force vibrating the walls and shaking the windows.
Liz let out a soft sound of relief.
"Oh my god," Rae whispered from her corner on the couch, her toffee eyes round with shock, "that…he's never been that angry before." Her voice was tiny, absent.
Chloe nodded dimly, her mind swimming through a mess of memories and fear, flashes of her mother's honey-strawberry curls and kind smile echoing and bouncing. She hugged herself. "I-I—" she stammered as she swayed.
She was shaking, she realized belatedly as Liam led her to the loveseat and guided her down gently. His slate eyes never left hers as he softly wiped her curls from her face, kneeling before her.
"I-I'm fine," she lied and, with a pinched expression, Liam drifted to Rae, wrapping her in his arms. Chloe watched on sadly as her face pounded.
The prickling of soon to be tears wasn't helping so she forced herself to her feet, pushing her legs to move.
She gulped down air but still felt dizzy, still felt weak. On the second step to her room, her knees gave out and she hit the carpet, barely registering it.
"Chloe?" a faint voice asked.
She blinked hard. Her cheeks burned like fire, trails carving paths into her pale skin, charring it black and brown. A pair of huge, dark sneakers filled her vision.
Large hands touched hers, guiding her, pulling her up. Her stomach rolled as she tried to see, tried to blink away the film of salt water in her eyes, but she couldn't. Dry lips parted to speak but only silence flooded out, louder than words themselves.
A hand touched her back, searing through her t-shirt, cutting through the cool fabric. It felt like hot concrete. "Come on," the voice whispered, gently.
It sounded distant, like the faint call of thunder, but she closed her eyes and sank against the person holding her. She could feel the tears leaking out slowly, piling on her skin, dissolving her cheeks and turning her face redder than a tomato. Her ears rung loudly as a door clicked shut. Her legs bumped something soft, lumpy, and she felt herself being laid down.
A hand stroked her cheek tenderly.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Derek's half-lidded eyes and the mole under his brow.
"D-D…" The words died in her throat and tasted sour, acidic, like vomit, like bile sitting there, begging to be released but unable to voice the sounds.
"Relax," he told her as he stepped back.
This is his room, she thought absently, letting her hand drift to his blankets, feeling the worn, soft fabric. It was cool under her touch, smooth.
He made his bed. His room was neat, books in bookshelves, clothes put away, and not a single thing out of place. It reminded her of a hospital.
A choked sob threatened to break her face into pieces. Hospitals…dying mothers. They went hand in hand, like death and cancer.
She wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them to her chest.
His eyes never left her. "It's okay," he murmured softly, but his face was set in stone, like a statue.
When she started to rock back and forth, he didn't look at her like she was mad.
Her head hurt. She pressed her kneecaps into her eyes, fiercely whispering under her breath.
"It's okay," he said again and maybe that was because he didn't know how to handle a girl having a breakdown.
A little snort rose, bubbling out through her dry mouth, trickling like the stream of salt water escaping her eyes. Everything had a hue to it, glowing almost, and she wanted to convince herself that she was in a dream.
His hand touched her, again, searing through her shirt, piercing passed the cold AC.
She shuddered. "Sorry," she muttered, ignoring the look he gave her when she lurched off the bed and scrabbled for the door.
"Sorry, sorry," she babbled as her hands frantically yanked and jerked the door open. It smashed into the wall.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," she chanted as she pushed herself forward, towards the steps, towards her own room, where she could curl up in the soft, stale blankets and pretend everything was okay.
Rae would be happy, Mummy would be alive, and she wouldn't be crazy.
When she got into her room, she slammed the door. Closed the blinds. And crawled under the blankets, ignoring everyone as her face burned and bubbled with hot, sad tears.