Being around Matteo was always a little weird. Every day when Cat got home from school she would sit with him for an hour or so, just to give him some company, not really ever talking beyond the first 10 minutes as the TV typically took away his attention after that. That's mainly what his medication was doing at this point, stopping any of his old outburst from resurfacing. But by doing that, they made him so docile that his entire demeanour had shifted into something fragile and dependent. His movements were unsteady, almost tentative, like a child still learning to navigate the world. His eyes, once sharp, were now wide and unfocused, often filled with a mix of confusion and innocent curiosity. His speech was reduced to simple, halting phrases, or sometimes just murmurs, as if language itself has become too complex. There was a softness to his voice, high-pitched and fragile, echoing the way a toddler might speak, with words that sometimes trail off into incoherence. His emotions were laid bare, with any small disruption bringing a sudden flood of tears or frustration and anger. It was as though the world had become too overwhelming for him to process on his own.

Cat remembered how it used to be, when he was first taking these medications, when he still had fleeting moments of control which would spiral into outbursts. It happened every once in a while now, but back then it was relentless, every day. There was one memory that stoof about most amongst the rest. He'd just gotten out from prison but was now on House Arrest, and was absolutely not coping well with his withdrawals. Her parents had taken a few precautions to keep him inside, knowing he wouldn't by choice but desperate to keep him out of the prison system for as long as they could. Cat lived with her Nonna for a lot of this time, while Matteo was adjusting. But she still saw too much.

-Flashback-

Matteo's body slammed against the inside of the bolt-locked front door, over and over, each thud growing weaker but no less desperate. His body was bruised, but he didn't seem to notice, or maybe he didn't care. He just needed to get out. His breath came in ragged gasps as though his lungs couldn't keep up with the fury swirling inside him. The walls of his own home, the same ones he once found comfort in as a child, now felt like a prison.

Cat was sat at the top of the staircase watching it all happen, as she did every time. She wanted to help but she would only get hurt, so all she could do was watch. Cassandra was stood a few paces behind her son, ready to call the police if he somehow did get out. But, like Cat, all she could do was watch too. Matteo was much too tall for her to restrain him, so she had to just let him run through his emotions, and then clean up the mess he made afterwards.

"Let me out!" he shouted, voice hoarse from hours of screaming. He tugged at his hair, pulled at his clothes, anything to feel something, to stop the crawling numbness that the new medication was slowly pouring over him. His body was heavy, sluggish, but his mind—his mind was still fighting. He could feel it, the anger boiling just beneath his skin, threatening to consume him.

He hurled a pair of shoes across the room, watching it crash into the wall with a dull thud. It didn't satisfy him. Nothing did. "LET ME OUT MOM LET ME OUT!" He pleased with his mother, who was stood in complete shock, unable to speak, just shaking as she watched her oldest child hurt so much.

Matteo's wild eyes caught sight of Cat sat at the top of the staircase, her small frame frozen like her mother.

For a moment, everything stopped—the sound of Matteo's heavy breathing, the tremor in his hands, the violent storm raging inside him. He stared at her, his little sister. She was always there, always trying to help. But now, she was the one holding him back, she knew had a key out of the house, and he needed that key. Their Mom wouldn't give him it.

In another manic burst, he clambered up the stairs, so fast that Cat had barely had time to stand let alone retreat back to her room.

"Cat," his voice cracked, half pleading, half demanding. He started to guide her towards her room, hands shaking, his entire body pulsing with the need to escape. "Give me the key. Please, I just—I have to get out of here." His words came fast, too fast, like he was afraid that if he didn't speak them quick enough, the medication would kick in before he could finish.

But Cat shook her head, her wide eyes filled with a mixture of fear and sadness. "Matteo, I can't. You know I can't." He'd tried this before with her, but had just ran straight into her room to grab it, causing a mountain of mess with it. So her bedroom door locked now too; just another room Matteo couldn't enter. Surely she had those keys on her right now. He needed that key too.

His breath hitched, and something inside him snapped. He lurched forward, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her harder than he meant to. "Cat, give me the damn key!" he shouted, voice raw, desperation seeping into every word.

She stumbled back, eyes wet with unshed tears, but she stood her ground. "I'm sorry, Matty. I can't. I—I can't let you leave."

Just as Cassandra reached the top of the stairs, Matteo's gaze darted from Cat and her tear-filled eyes, and his hand reached out, not for her, but for the vase on the table next to her. Without thinking, without stopping, he swung it—cracking the porcelain vase over Cat's head in one horrible, deafening moment.

The world went still.

The sound was sickening. A sharp crack split the air, and then pain—white-hot and blinding—erupted through her skull. Cat stumbled, her vision shattered into a blur of light and colour, as if the world around her had fractured. She tried to hold on, to stay upright, but her body betrayed her, collapsing in slow motion to the floor. She barely felt herself hit the ground.

Everything was muffled. Sounds that should have been clear—Matteo's ragged breathing, her mother yelling is distress, were distant, buried beneath a high-pitched ringing in her ears. She blinked, trying to focus, but the world around her was spinning too fast, her head throbbing with each pulse of pain.

Warmth trickled down the side of her face, sticky and slow, but it didn't register right away. She touched her temple, her fingers brushing against something wet, but her mind was too foggy to understand. She tried to move, to speak, but everything felt heavy, like she was sinking into something she couldn't pull herself out of.

The last thing she saw was Matteo's face hovering above her, his wide eyes filled with a mix of horror and regret. His hands trembling as they hovered near her, too afraid to touch. His voice broke through the ringing, distant and frantic. "Cat… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

She wanted to respond, to tell him it was okay, that she knew he didn't mean it, but the words wouldn't come. The pain was too much, pulling her under, and the darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision grew thicker, swallowing her whole.

Matteo's voice faded as everything went black.

-Flashback End-

She dyed her hair red shortly after she'd come out of the hospital. She was never entirely sure why, but it felt right. Maybe it was to show Matteo that it was okay and the red colour was nice, or maybe it was to remind her parents every single day what they let happen to her. They let her head be covered in blood at the hands of her brother because they prioritised his safety over hers. Or maybe it was to remind herself.

It was years ago now, and Matty very rarely acted out like that anymore. She still had to live with caution though. The kitchen knives being locked away, having to drink out of plastic cups, never being able to invite her friends over, a lock on her bedroom door. All incase Matty ever did anything like that again.