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The Calling (DrTrollinski & Zhai)

Oh no! Mia's hair was still tightly wound into a ponytail, and a rapid shiver ran the length of her spine thinking that if Carl hadn't touched her hair, that Mother would have probably burst a blood vessel if she saw it.


"I know what you mean, but...I guess I'll have to wait for the day." The ponytail was undone, Mia's hair falling onto her back but where the band was, her hair had waved from it. She combed her fingers through the length, trying to smooth out the waves and make her hair look similar to when she left.


When Mia stepped into the foyer, she was still adjusting her hair when Mrs. Greene shuffled from the back of the house, passing the stairwell and already reaching to take their packs. Mia dismissed the housekeeper's advances, instead pulling the small woman in for a brief embrace, "Mrs. Greene, you've really got to stop trying to do my homework! You don't want these problems." Mia smiled and the old woman laughed, patting Mia on her arm and moving towards Carl.


The conversation outside, how Carl reacted, left her feeling like she'd maybe killed a portion of the night unintentionally. Leaving Carl in the foyer, Mia circled the house, kissing her Father's temple from behind as he sat at his desk, drumming away on his computer. He barely reacted, completely engrossed in his document, but mechanically asked how school was. Mia didn't respond, because her Father wouldn't hear it, and chose to retire to her room.
 
Carl greeted her in the same way, giving her a gentle hug. He even told her about how he'd managed to get himself a date, and of course she was ecstatic. Little did he know, that she and Mia were going to be the only two people that actually showed any interest. When a boy got great news like that, what did he do? He went and told his father. The thing was, though, Carl wasn't going to have that chance to get praised by his dad, and what would that result in? More anger.


He ran upstairs and to his dad's study, instantly busting in through the door.


"Dad! I've got some good news! I've got a date next week!" He said excitedly, and proudly. He was expecting some sort of congratulations, but he didn't get anything. Only something to show that his dad wasn't even listening.


"That's good, son..." He murmured under his breath as he continued to tap away at his keyboard. Carl's smile and excited mood quickly faltered and he fell to a flat and upset face, and he wasn't even going to bother with telling his mother. No, no, it was too late for that - now he felt angry. The one man who he thought cared so much, suddenly didn't have time for him now that he was 'all grown up'. What happened to the past, dad? What happened to it? The times when he'd run through and hand you a beer when you walked through the door? The times when he called for you over anyone else whenever he got upset or had a tantrum that went wrong. Every time this man would be there to calm him when things got too heavy... And now...


He couldn't even spare him a single minute to listen to the best news he'd had all year.


He went into his room and slammed the door shut, and then felt the anger rush over him. He flipped up an armchair that was in his room and set it crashing to the floor, and then punched a wall - the one that was also shared by Mia's room - and then turned and punched the dresser four times over - by then, his knuckles were raw, and even a little bit bloody. He was in a blind fury, walking up and down with his fists clenched.
 
"Wha-?" Mia barely finished audibly questioning what had dropped, slammed, and banged in the house, before her Mother came rushing through her door. In the woman's eyes there was a undertone of terror, a bright splash of worry, and the boldness of anger. Mia erected from where she leaned over, burrowing through her drawers. She could barely get undressed and into comfortable clothes before being interrogated.


"Mia! Where have you been? I called the school..." Mother shot off in full blown explosion. The woman worried sick for everything. If Mia and Carl showered too long, their mother was fretting, pacing outside the hall and questioning her parenting techniques. If they spent too long eating at the table, there Mother sat at the table with them or stood in the kitchen, observing to make sure they didn't choke.


Mia exhaled softly and leaned against her dresser, staring at her Mother but barely listening to her. There was something about calling the school and some parents, driving to the school, and something else. It was frightening that a person could worry so much. It was a true mystery that her mother didn't have gray hairs building communities in her hair from all the stress of worrying.


"Mom...we're fine. Please..." Mia tried to continue speaking, but was interrupted by her Mother's firm grasp and sped speaking. Finally, Mother let go and stared at Mia; when she was confident about something, probably that Mia was Mia and she was in one piece, Mother stepped backwards out of the room and reluctantly closed the door until her eyes couldn't look through anymore.


Mia stalked across her room to the bathroom that connected on the other side to Carl's room - the classic Jack and Jill set up. Through the years, the bathroom had changed from being colorful and cartoon laid, to more 'adult'. It was decorated in bold reds and golds, kept clean, and the cartoon theme was tossed out years ago. She slowed down half way through the long, wide bathroom, hesitant to knock on his door. At last, she lifted her hand and knocked softly. "Carl?"
 
"No!" Carl yelled as he walked up to his bed and tore the blankets and bed sheets from it, tossing them all onto the floor at the opposite end of the room. He picked up the four pillows from his double bed and then launched them across the room as well - they struck the window, causing the blinds to rattle and almost come off of their pole. With a few very heavy deep breaths, he reached down and grabbed the bottoms of the mattress, and then dragged it up and launched it off the bottom of the bed. It sounded like thunder that shot through the house - that mattress was heavy, but it made no difference to him.


"Just FUCK. EVERYTHING!" He screamed, and then started pacing around his room again. God, he was red with fury again. He didn't care. When he was hitting that kid, he held himself back as much as he could - he knew that if he got this angry, he'd have never have stopped hitting him. Carl just didn't care at this point. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to do anything like that. He'd been betrayed by everyone, at least that's what it felt like. It sounded like Mia disrespected his father not too long ago, so that was that, and now the man he'd put so much trust into had turned on him and didn't even care.


And then he crossed the line. He walked up to the nightstand beside his bed and swept up an empty glass, and then quickly spun on one heel and launched it straight against the wall at the other side of the room, alongside giving an infuriated scream. He didn't really think about how many people might have come running after that - he knew that he wasn't going be holding back if someone tried to stop him, though.


His room was trashed for the most part.
 
Mia opted not to remove the only barrier between herself in the bathroom and the natural disaster spiraling out of control on the the side. Her hand slowly dropped back to her side and at some point she'd taken a step back from the door but still stood there, staring at it.


There was so much noise; the sounds of banging, breaking, smashing, slamming, pushing, and even Carl's audible angry hisses and growling is easy to hear on this side. There was a point where Mia reached for the knob, her hand firm on the knob and ready to twist, but another item hitting the floor or wall changed her mind.


What if Mom and Dad could hear this? What could they be thinking? Where were they? Father seemed very engrossed in his work, probably some deadline coming up. The man barely broke eye contact from his computer and his normal sprite tone was dull, it sounded tired and dry. Mother was probably giving directions to the National Guard by now, maybe saying something extreme like a terrorist had broken only into her son's room and was wrecking havoc.


From behind, Mia could hear the soft padding of Mrs. Greene's shoes; the old woman walked as quickly as her aged body could, standing in the doorway of the bathroom from Mia's room. It looks like Mrs. Greene is too scared to walk any further into the room; she's probably scared Carl might break the door and splinters will fly everywhere. Hell, Mia should be worried about that.


"It's okay. He's just...having a bad night." Mia ushers Mrs. Greene out of the doorway and closes the door, still standing in the bathroom, waiting for the calm after the storm. Wondering how long after this that the calm would come.
 
And then everything became a blur.


He suddenly became so engrossed with his fury that there was nothing holding him back. Nothing at all. He went crazy after that. He walked up to his dresser and ripped the drawers out of them and tossed them across the room, all one by one. He was launching them in all different angles, with clothes flying everywhere, and with only more noise and more screams erupting from his lungs. He didn't know why. He couldn't control it. It was so... Blinding.


He couldn't feel. He couldn't touch. He couldn't smell. He couldn't sense.


The anger had fully taken over him and was coursing through his veins. All of his once neatly folded clothes that he took the liberty of folding himself were now scattered throughout the room. And finally, he'd distracted his father, but only slightly - his father was in a daze that was going to take a little more to come out of.


Carl was taking it all too far. His room was pretty much right beside his mom's study, and only a couple of doors up and across from his father's one. Jesus Christ. They were going to be walking in on the devil incarnate. They were going to need a blessing from the holy god to be able to contain this anger.


His anger had been bad.


But it had never been this bad.
 
Mia sits on the bathroom counter between the double sinks, her bank leaned against the wall-wide mirror. IT sounds worse in there. It was quiet one minute and the next it was an eruption! At this rate, Carl might break the walls and fall through the floor because of his anger. Mia was about to get comfortable, when her door to the bathroom slowly pushed open; sitting up straight, her eyes fished for who it was, maybe Mrs. Greene was being nice and dropping some drinks to get Mia through this.


It was their Father; he looked probably as bad as Carl was going to look after. There were dark bags under his eyes, defined wrinkles on his forehead Mia hadn't noticed before, and his normally neatly groomed hair looked like he'd dragged his hands through it a million times. Father wasn't wearing the jacket to his suit, his button up was undone around his neck and his striped tie was so loose he could have easily just pulled it over his head and off. Father looked...rough. Worked to death. Mia regretted what she said earlier about her Father basically working to die - it wasn't accurate, joke or not.


Father stood there, his hand on the knob and his eyes staring at Carl's closed door. Mia slides off the counter, pats her Father on the chest, and moves around him - leaving him there. Grabbing her jacket, a comfortable pair of shoes, and her house keys - Mia exits hurriedly down the stairs and out the front door.
 
"Get out of the way!" She shouted, pretty much pushing right by their father and then going straight into the door to Carl's room. "Young man, what in the world do you think you're doing?!" She screeched as she looked around the room at all the knocked over objects, the trashed bed, the broken glass, and all of the clothes. No. Carl couldn't be dealing with her now. Not now.


"Oh, just fuck off!" He screamed, and then got a death stare from her. He'd never sworn at mother before. Never. This was something new. She didn't expect it, his dad didn't expect it, and most of all... Carl didn't expect it. Did he care? No. Of course he didn't care, why would he? He was so fueled by fury that he didn't care what happened now.


"Son, calm down..." Father muttered, Carl shook his head ferociously and kicked some of his clothes towards him. And then his mother made a big mistake. She stepped forward and grabbed hold of both of his arms, holding him where he stood.


Uh-oh.


"Get the fuck off of me!" He yelled, and then ripped his hands away and delivered the most harsh push to her chest, sending her straight back over to the door where she toppled over onto her back in the hallway. God, Carl was really going to be in the shit for this. Even father was going to struggle to get him out of this one - Carl couldn't help it. He didn't want to do that, but he couldn't stand this anymore. No, no, it was all too much. It was all too painful to go to.


And then father grabbed him and took him down onto the mattress. Jesus, it never ended, did it?


"Son, son, son... Relax, calm down. Calm down..." He tried to sooth him but only got more aggression.


"I SAID GET OFF!" He screamed and then brought his knee up and sunk it into his father's ribs, and then straight up hit him around the face and kicked him off of him. "This is all your fault. Fuck you!" He cried, and then dashed out of the room and shoved past mother again, and then made a dash for the back door where he ran outside and went over to sit down onto one of the plastic poolside chairs (After kicking three of them into the pool itself) and finally sitting onto it. He started crying right after that - like, full on sobbing. It all caught up with him.
 
Mrs. Greene and Mia were sat outside the house on the porch, side by side on a narrow, but long woven bench. Mother hated when people sat on this bench, believing it was some form of an antique and she wanted to preserve it. Normally Mrs. Greene dropped everything she was doing and shooed people off the the bench if they were even remotely hovering near the damn thing, but tonight..there she was with Mia.


"I don't know, Nan." Mia often referred to Mrs. Greene that way, short for Nanny, which wasn't even on her resume but the woman obliged to it. Mother hated that, too; when Mia said that because Mrs. Greene wasn't her biological Grandmother.


Mia exhaled long and forceful, expecting a cloud to form from the breath she'd allowed to pin up inside her, that she'd held for the last couple of seconds, and finally released. Nothing. Invisible breath. Mrs. Greene's hand rubbed the length of her back, and it felt comparable to how Carl's hand felt on her back; offering his comfort through a back rub to her while she threw up her guts. Mia should be up there, comforting Carl - asking what was wrong because even she didn't know.


"I'm going to take a walk." Mrs. Greene looked like she was going to object, but in the end she nodded quietly and shook Mia's hand firmly. Mia waited until Mrs. Greene went back into the house, watching through the glass she the old woman peeling out of her knitted sweater, neatly hung it in the closet at the front door, and stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up. Mia can tell from out here that the way Nan is standing there - that Carl is still going at it in there.


A walk. Right. Where to? Mia steps off the porch, lingering at the beginning of the walkway before finally moving to the edge of the street, standing in the scoop of the street. The house next to theirs is completely dark, save for yellow porch light still on. The house next to that house is also dark. And the one after that. Moving up the street, she calms herself by counting how many houses have families awake and who doesn't. At the end of the street, its apparent that out of eleven houses, only two families are awake. Mia stands in the middle of the street, debating between walking more or turning back.
 
Carl was still sitting out the back of the house on the chair, crying and sobbing to himself. Father soon creaked the back door open and looked over him, taking a deep breath.


"Son, I--"


"Just go away!" He sobbed. "I want Mia! Where's my sister?!" He cried in question.


"I don't know, I don't know... I'll go get her, okay?" He said, and then quickly wandered back into the house and looked around. God, he couldn't see her anywhere. He quickly scanned around. "Mia?!" He yelled through the house. No response. Mrs Green soon approached him and patted his shoulder.


".. She went out front." She said, Father quickly made a dash for the door and swung it open, and then made a dash up to the front gate. He couldn't deny that he was a little angry to see her walking away, but he didn't really blame her.


"Mia! You need to come back here! Your brother's asking after you!" He yelled out to her, sighing a little as he did so. He didn't know how this was going to work. Carl wouldn't talk to him, and definitely wouldn't talk to their mother, so it looked like his twin sister was the only trusted option that he had left.
 
It's time to turn back. Mia had been standing in the literal middle of the street, focusing on the row of street lamps down the length of the opposite side of the street. The focus has slowly transitioned to zoned out. She might have been drooling a little if her conscious hadn't come back quickly. Mia was snapped from her daze by a faint, short echo carrying on the softest wind of the night. It sounds like...like whoever it is...is calling for 'Mia'.


Oh shit! That's her! Mia turns and flees down the street back to the house, her head turning left and right as various houses' lights switch on as quickly she she runs. The closer to her house, the more lights; then she saw Mother standing smack in the middle of the street, screaming and turning around. Mother is in her white robe, running sneakers, scarf, and ear rings. Mia doesn't question the unusual get up, but instead hushes her Mother's alarming tone and ushers her into the house. Quickly.


Everyone, except Carl, is downstairs at the foot of the stairs pacing. Mrs. Greene is baking and Mia could smell it. The woman bakes when she's stressed. Mia remembered once when Mother threatened to fire her for a small error, and Mrs. Greene was so worried she baked fr three days straight. We had enough to make well over a hundred dollars selling her desserts and soliciting her skills.


"Carl wants...me?" This shouldn't be shocking. They often comforted each other and reconciled through one another. Father, Mother, and Mrs. Greene part for Mia, the stairs open and available behind them. She steps on the first step, craning her head up as to see only the railing in the hallway. Mia walks further up the staircase and turns to look at Carl's room from the stair's vantage point.


It's quiet from here, so he must have run out of things to break and throw. Mia's hand slowly raises to the door again, like before, but this time she chooses to walk in and not knock.


"Carl? Hey..."
 
Carl didn't stop crying. He was sat on the edge of his bed frame and still bawling his eyes out. His face was covered with his hands. He wasn't angry anymore. He was heartbroken - heartbroken for what his father did, and heartbroken because of how he acted in response. He could have been persistent, just to get his dad to give him a minute of his time, but no. It felt like he didn't care, and now look at him. He was devastated entirely, and he'd just about given up on everything - everything that once seemed good, now seemed terrible. It was such a horrible and depressing feeling - Maybe Carl suffered from depression? No, he didn't, surely. He was such a happy guy when he didn't have his episodes. He didn't show any signs of depression, not one, aside from sudden mood changes at some point.


He couldn't even string together a couple of words. He couldn't look up at her, because he felt too upset and ashamed to do it. He couldn't believe that he'd asked for her to come and see him. What was he going to say? 'Oh, hey, sis. Sorry that I flipped out and assaulted mom and dad and made everyone panic.' - He knew that he'd reduced Mother to tears with what he did, so he assumed that she was sitting in her study pretending that nothing was wrong, when truthfully, she was probably crying her eyes out.


Carl just wanted a hug, or something. That's all he wanted right now.


Despite being brave, his dad was offended, too. As soon as Carl said that it was 'all his fault', he felt something crack. He vaguely remembered Carl coming into his study, very excited and happy, and then twenty seconds after that was when the slamming started. Oh dear, yep. He'd definitely caused this. He went into the kitchen to see Mrs Greene and comfort her a little, giving her the whole run of 'You know what Carl can get like', and so on.
 
This is a hard scene to swallow. It's even worse than how everyone's faces downstairs made it look. The room looks worse than how it sounded when she was in the bathroom, listen to the wreckage unfold. Carl...looks so bad; hunched over and looking fragile, he could be someones inspiration for a dramatic, dismal artwork.


Mia finally enters the room, her eyes taking turns looking at Carl and sweeping across the floor. Her feet creep, slide, and step over and past the randomly strewn objects on the floor. Mia looks down again just in time to avoid stepping on a thick slice of glass; bending over and picking it up, she turns it in her hand. The piece is heavy, foggy, and cleaning broken. In the middle of the glass there's a piece of an image, and a little more staring at it jogs Mia's memory - its a glass print or their hands when they were toddlers.


A thick lump forms in Mia's throat as her thumb feels over the partial image, very similar to the one she has in her own room, displayed over her desk. When their parents had these made for them and gave them these prints on their sixth birthday, she remembered Carl and herself were so engrossed in the glass representation of their younger hands that they forgot to open the rest of their gifts.


The glass is put back carefully on the floor, on top of a pile of Carl's old sports jerseys and uniforms. Mia remembered Father wanted to get those framed for Carl, and hung around the walls.


There isn't anything Mia can say to Carl and she hasn't thought of anything good enough in words to offer him. Instead when she nears her brother, her arms open to embrace him from behind; her head resting on his shoulder and her body pressed against his back. There still isn't a dialogue Mia has constructed to say to Carl, so for now, she lets the silence between them do the healing.
 
Carl was still crying and sobbing, even after Mia started hugging him. He realized all of the damage he'd done, but didn't realize that special glass that he'd broke. He remembered he was younger, Mother broke something while she was washing the dishes, and either one of them cried for so long. He had a feeling it was one of their glasses, but... They had it remade, or something. He didn't know. His mind was too foggy to even know that - he knew that they had molds of their hands from when they were babies, and when they were toddlers, but he didn't think it was possible to remake something so special.


God, when he saw it, things were only going to get worse. Realistically, yes, they could easily get another one made - The bad thing was, Carl was going to be more upset that he broke it in such a blind rage. Even if another one was made, it was still something that symbolized the two of them. Something that showed what they were, and what they'd done together. It had sentimental value, but at least they still had each other - that was the main thing.


But then, as he opened his eyes, he saw something sat atop his sports gear that was all over the floor. A piece of glass, and half of his once tiny handprint. He felt his heart sink. He tore himself away from Mia and instantly dived to his knees, sweeping the broken bit of glass up in his hands and cradling it like it was something that was never broken in the first place.


And then, there was a cry that he hadn't done just yet. It was a cry of pain, torment, heartbreak, and shame. It was so loud that it probably could have made the walls shake if he kept it going.


"DAD! DAD, PLEASE!" He cried out at the top of his lungs. He was the only one that would have known how to deal with this, surely. The only person who had betrayed him was now the only person who could offer him some sort of calmness over this. He dropped the glass onto the bed and then sat down beside Mia, throwing her arms around her once again. He put his eyes down against her shoulder and kept on crying, crying his eyes and heart out like there was nothing else to do. The way Carl looked now, made it look like he knew nothing other but how to cry. Suddenly, his sadness became so apparent, like it was always there.


"Look what I did!" He cried out in a choked voice. "I always just fucking ruin everything!" He sobbed to her. "I--.. I--.. You deserve better, you--.. you deserve a brother that isn't a fucking asshole!" He bawled to her, the tears soaking her shoulder majorly. He'd trashed everything. He'd crushed his parents, he'd crushed himself, and he'd most likely crushed the only person that he'd die for if he had to.
 
Sitting on the bed listening and watching Carl - fretting over the glass, bent over on the floor, screaming like he was dying inside, and then finally when he came back to the bed....Mia felt something inside again. This feeling was different than earlier in the day and it didn't just simmer in her gut, but it explode through her entire self. Mia's hands twitched when Carl embraced her again; every inch of her skin prickled and her scalp felt irritated as she replayed his scream in her mind; and her lips parted as she inhaled faster and shorter breaths.


Mia's hand reaches between Carl and herself, widening the space between them until Carl was her arms' length away. Look at that face - blotched and flushing, blue eyes on top of a reddened backdrop, and red rimmed nose. Mother used to say crying makes the face swell for a week straight. That lie is what kept Mia from crying, but Carl never believed it. She felt jealous Carl was confident enough to cry and not worry about his eyes puffing up for the next seven days with no alleviation.


Carl's hair even looks like Father's, sticking up this way and that; it looks so wild, Mia's hand reaches up to pat down the stray strands as best she could without being tempted to grab a brush.


Still patting his hair down, her hand slows down and lowers, cupping Carl's moist, warm cheek. She could feel another tear creep down the length of her thumb and rest on the back of her hand.


"Carl..." The comforting hand on Carl's cheek pulls away, a good distance out to the side, and comes back to his face. Slap!





Mia kept the hand there, knowing that the moist, sensitive skin was probably going to feel like there was a fire starting if she removed her hand too quickly.


"Yes, you are a fucking asshole." Mia's voice was even, her eyes were still staring into his, and her posture stiffened. "Yes, you ruined this perfectly good room. Yes, you're acting like a fucking baby and last time I remember...my brother wasn't such a weak kid. I don't know who you are right now, but you need to get out, because this room belongs to Carl."


Mia still sat there, her hand finally leaving his face, but only dropping to hold his shoulder, "The Carl I know - my big brother - is going on a date soon with a girl who thinks he's so amazing, but whoever you are right here...you're not that guy. My big brother, knows that Dad works hard, and sometimes he doesn't have time to coo over us like when we were younger. My big brother isn't fond of Mom, but he'd never disrespect her."


Mia leaned forward, kissing the middle of Carl's forehead, embraced him long enough that she inhaled and exhaled deeply, and let him go. She stood, adjusting her shirt and feeling the moisture of his tears on her shoulder grow cold in the air. "When Carl comes back, tell him his sister says it's okay...and she still loves him."


Turning around, Mia was prepared to stalk out of the room, but paused briefly when she saw their parents standing in the doorway. Their eyes weren't assessing the damage, but rather trying to peer around Mia to look at Carl. There was..concern in their eyes, not anger; there were words they wanted to say on their tongues, not things they wanted to shout. Mia showed herself out of the room through Carl's bathroom door, leaning against the door on the other side to close it, and standing there for a minute; her hand she slapped him with felt heavy, it felt numb and tingly, but it needed to be done.
 
Carl was left in sheer heartbreak, only knowing that he fucked up once again. He didn't feel like anyone understood why. He didn't even understand why. Why it came to so suddenly, why he was such a naturally angry kid. He couldn't help it, he couldn't control it - he needed to rely on other people for this sort of thing, but when he suddenly felt like he realized something, he suddenly felt so outlined, too. Like he was some sort of criminal who could do nothing other but break everything in his sight, and crush everyone that he loved.


But before he knew it, his father was sat right beside him. He picked up the piece of the broken glass from the bed frame and sighed a little as he looked down at the boy that was still a sobbing - but a more calm - mess. He reached up and gently placed one arm around his shoulders while Mother stood at the doorway, simply looking in on them both. She was upset - no one had ever seen Carl act like this, thus far.


"Son..." He sighed.


".. I'm sorry." He choked almost instantly. ".. I'm sorry, dad..." He whimpered, and then instantly flew into his side. Mother looked at them, and then at the piece of glass, and then went off into hers and Father's bedroom to retrieve something from one of the compartments inside their walk-in closet. It was something they always kept in the safest place so that they could never get taken or broken. It was something that they'd never be able to get rid of, no matter what.


"Son, son, son... Calm down..." He said, rubbing the sobbing boy's back. ".. I know... I'm sorry that I made all this happen, I am... I just... I've been busy, that's all." He said gently, Carl furiously shook his head.


"No! It's my fault.. It's my fault because I'm an idiot and I've got no fucking temper control..." He whimpered into his side, Father simply rubbed his back and took another deep breath. No parent lets their child get this upset over something that they couldn't even take control of - seeing as he'd played a big part in this, he felt guilty, and the least he could do was make sure that he calmed down and felt a bit better before the night was up.


"It's not, son... You've always had that problem, haven't you? Sure, you've never broke out on this level before, but... It's happened. Don't you remember when you were younger, when you used to push chairs over and shout and scream at me and mom every time it happened? You'd retreat off to your room and do the exact same thing that you're doing now - you'd sit here, or you'd get into bed, and you'd cry your eyes out - that only happened when I couldn't calm you, though..."


".. I've ruined everything, dad... Everything..." He sobbed. ".. Now mom hates me, and Mia hates me as well... Look at what I've done..."


"Now stop right there. As parents, you can't ever hate your children, no matter what they do. Remember, as parents, you'll always see the kids as the little playful ones that they once were. When they're all grown up like you, they're not that age in your head. They're still the little ones that used to run to the door to give you hugs whenever you came home. You'll learn that one day..." He said, and then continued rubbing his back. "And your sister will never hate you. When me and mom are gone, once we've done our time, I mean... She'll be the person that's always at your side." He said. "Remember that time when you were both really sick, when you were eight years old? I still remember it... You were bed-ridden, and both of you were throwing up and all of the other good stuff... Do you remember what you did?"


".. I--.." He thought back to the time he was talking about. He remembered it well. ".. I went and--.. I went and got into her bed with her and hugged her to try and make her feel better... We watched..." He gulped and blinked away some tears. ".. We watched movies and TV shows all day, and I stayed with her."


"Exactly. She said you're the strong older brother. The one she always knew - You will always be that brother in her mind, okay? Don't you ever think otherwise, I swear to god. The moment you believe that things are otherwise is the moment that they do become otherwise. Why? Because you make yourself into that person that you think she sees you as."


They were interrupted as Mother walked into the room with a clay square, all dried and dust-covered, but still in good condition. She walked up and sat on the other side of Carl, putting the square down at her side with a sigh. Carl didn't even know what to say - what his father had said had made sense, but his mother just made things feel awkward. He slowly turned to her and took hold of one of her hands, blinking away a couple of tears.


".. Mom--.. I'm... I'm so sorry for what I did, I just--.. I didn't know what I was doing. I'm so, so, so sorry..." He whimpered, she shook her head a little and then pulled him into a shielding hug, just like she used to when he was very young and crying about something when his father was at work. It was a very motherly thing she did - a mother-son bond, of some sort, I suppose. ".. I love you, mom... I'm so sorry..." He said, his arms tightly locking around her.


"It's okay, Carl..." She sighed. ".. I'm going to assume that you're upset about that glass, as well?"


"I'm upset about everything I did." He shut his eyes tight, but Mother reached to her side and then picked up the clay square, placing it down on his lap. He slowly opened his eyes and looked down at it. It was... it was the tab that they put their handprints on. They were the ones they used for the glasses all those years ago! He couldn't help but smile as he looked at it, but it was a sad smile. He placed his hand atop the print that was under the name 'Carl' and gave a sad laugh. It was amazing how much his hand had grown since then.


"At the end of the day... It's just a piece of glass, and if they could make those nearly ten years ago, I'm sure they can make them now." She smiled and planted a kiss atop his head. "You might have broken it, but... It can be replaced... You just need to remember, sweetheart... Make sure you don't break anything that can't be fixed."


He put the tab down on her lap and then slowly rose up, quickly giving them both a big hug. "I'm so sorry... I love you both so much, and I hope I haven't upset you too much... I'll come back and clean my room soon, I promise. I just... I need to go and see Mia." He said, and then quickly spun on one heel and shot out of the room, and straight to the door next to his own. He gently knocked and then quickly went in, peering in at her. He gulped a little and then went over and sat down beside her on the bed. He gently but hesitantly took hold of her nearest hand and then took a deep breath. He just hoped that she'd forgive him - his face still hurt from when she hit him, but that wasn't anything compared to the other pain he felt tonight.


".. Mia... I..." He gulped. ".. Someone came and said that someone told them that Carl's sister still loved him." He smiled weakly. ".. I was going to send them back with the same message, but... I thought that I'd come and say it myself." He said, and then leaned over and pulled her into a shielding, gentle, and affectionate hug. He set his head on her shoulder and shut his eyes tightly, rubbing her back again. ".. I'm so sorry for what I did, Mia... I promise I'll do everything I can to make sure I don't get like that again, and--.. I love you." He said.
 
Mia listened to a Carl style apology and let his last words marinate with her. They were sincere - as sincere as anything anyone could ever say to another person. Mia and Carl never exchanged 'I love you' because it was an unspoken reality between them. They loved each other; they showed in through the little things in their everyday lives and didn't feel it needed to be vocalized daily.


"Carl you don't ever have to say it. You should know that I know." She returned his embrace, "I love you too, Carl."


When was the last time she said that? When they were ten or eleven, maybe? It was something Mrs. Greene made them do when they were arguing over - what was it? She couldn't even remember what the damn argument was about; but it was so heated that Carl and Mia shoved each other, shoulder checked one another, tossed elbows every time they passed each other, and wrestled. Ah! It was the wrestling that got them in trouble! Mia attacked Carl from behind and dragged him to the ground in the formal living room; they wrestled for awhile - legs kicking, arms flying, growling and shouting at each other.


Then there had been a smash, something fallen and broken. One of their legs had kicked over a small glass table and on top of that, a collectible vase Mother purchased in Paris. It wasn't priceless but it wasn't cheap, and what was worse was that Mother loved it. Mrs. Greene had rushed into the room to find Carl and Mia on the floor, frozen on the floor right at the scene of the crime! Furious, Mrs. Greene put them in separate corners, where they knelt facing the corner and not allowed to move until they told each other they loved each other.


How long did they sit? Mia remembered hearing Carl shift uncomfortably in the other corner, as she too was trying to readjust to alleviate the building pain in her knees and back. Finally, though - maybe out of pain or maybe out of love - they finally told each other they loved each other in front of Mrs. Greene and were allowed to leave.


The only ever time before that was when they were much younger. Father said Carl and Mia told each other all day, everyday up until they were about five.


Back to the present, Mia leans out of Carl's embrace, looking at him head on. "You're going to be cleaning your room all night." Mia laughed softly, leaning forward and pressing her forehead to Carl's for a brief moment, and then pulling back.
 
".. I know..." He sighed a little and then took hold of her hand. "Mom showed me a tab made of clay... It had our handprints on, it was the one they used to get those glasses made." He smiled a little. "She said they were gonna' get my glass remade." He said. "It'll look the same, it'll just be newer - It's still gonna' be my handprint." He chuckled


"So, you gonna' come and help me clean up some of the stuff in my room?" He asked. "Also... Thanks for coming out with me tonight... It was nice to get out for a while. I just hope I didn't screw the night up because of all of that. I couldn't really control it and... You know, I just hope I haven't changed things too much, you know?" He asked with a gulp. He gently kicked off his sneakers and then lied down on the bed, linking his hands behind his head. Ah, it was nice, they'd had double beds their whole life.


"I said sorry to mom and dad, as well... I was just so angry that I didn't know what I was doing, and... Yeah." He shrugged. "It's not the first time I've done that, though... I ended up getting angry like that when we were younger, and a fight we had usually ended with a lot of tears from the both of us." He said, smirking a little. ".. Want some help with your homework tomorrow?" He asked. He just wanted to find a way to make it all up to her, even if it meant doing her homework for her.
 
Luckily, Carl had already told Mia the answer to her next question - that he'd apologized to their parents. It was a big deal to apologize to their parents after something happened, at least to Mia it was and even if the event didn't have to do anything with their parents. Mia even apologized for getting a low grade on a test, just because she felt like she had to!


"Um..nah, I don't need help." Mia had left her seat on the bed and was going through her drawers, pulling out a change of clothes and piling them into her desk chair. "I can't have my brother doing my date! It's mine."


Mia peeled out of her jacket, flung it onto to Carl's face as he laid out on her bed. Smiling to herself, she pulled her towel and robe from the back of her door leading to the bathroom, "I'm gonna shower."


The shower was quick- Mia washed her body, washed her hair, rinsed both at the same time, and hopped out. Standing the mirror on her side of the counter, she combed through her wet hair, attempting to get rid of the curl and wave pattern that was natural. She never knew if Mother's hair was the same, because the woman always had her hair short and straight. Mia spent her time straightening her hair as well, deciding against its natural pattern early in life.


Tying the robe around herself, she opened the bathroom door back into her room, following the leftover steam out the door.
 
"Welcome back..." Carl yawned and closed his eyes a little. ".. Mia... You know something?" He asked. ".. It's really strange, but... When I was breaking everything and throwing everything around... I just... I don't know... It felt like something really urgent, too. It didn't fell like I was just angry... There was..." He shook his head and sighed. "Something else, I suppose. It's really weird. I don't know what it was." He sat up and shuffled up against the wall and glanced around the room a little - there were many nice things all stacked up on shelves, and such. A lot of it was from recent years, where they'd bought each other things for their birthday - for her fourteenth, he got her a little silver necklace (it didn't cost him a fortune) that he was almost certain that she only wore on special occasions, seeing as it was quite a fragile thing.


He looked towards her walk-in closet and took a deep breath. From about the age of four, right up to the age of eight, he had a phobia of those. He didn't know why, and even when he was asked about it when he was little , he didn't know why he was scared of it. It wasn't helpful, seeing as his room also had one of them, but... What can you do? His parents had to lock the closet for him, and whenever he needed to get something from it, he made either Mia go in and get it, one of his parents, or Mrs Greene. He thought that he should apologize to her, too. She was like grandmother to them - he felt a little guilty that she had to be there while all of that was happening.


His bedroom also had a bathroom like Mia's did - having their own bathroom is every teenage boy's dream. For obvious reasons that I won't go into detail on. Ah, memories. It wasn't too long ago, actually, maybe a year ago, just about - the awkward moment when his mother or father (or maybe even Mia) came knocking on his bathroom door and asked him 'what was taking so long'.


Yep...


"Any ideas...? It was like I was looking for something, I guess. You know, how I pulled the drawers out of my dresser, flipped my mattress." He chuckled a little. "Perhaps I was looking for the family jewels." He smirked.
 
"Maybe you were looking for your marbles you lost." She laughed casually, bringing the lapels of her robe closer together around her neck and chest. Mrs. Greene always uses the phrase 'losing your marbles' and Mia remembered asking her one day in the kitchen, what the meant. Mrs. Greene was making dinner and commented about losing her marbles as she opened and close several cupboard doors. She remembered Mrs. Greene said it was went you went crazy and dropped your common sense, and you had to find it and put it back in yourself; although she never explained how to get the 'marbles' back in there.


"It's almost nine." Mia groaned, flopping her arms to her side and pouting for a few seconds, finally erecting and rushing across her to her dresser.


"Okay brother, you've got to get out." They were sibling, yes, but the years of dressing in front of one another had long since passed. Mia still felt shy in her robe, even with her towel still wrapped around herself underneath, and she patiently waited for Carl to get up and get out.
 
Carl didn't blame her for wanting her to leave. The last time they'd got dressed in front of each other was probably when they weren't even self-conscious about it all. Probably from age four, right up to age seven, eight, or nine. It sort of stopped there, and at the public pool, they couldn't use a 'family changing room' - they had to have their own individual changing stalls, and all that stuff.


".. Yeah, that's fine." He yawned and then slowly rose up, stretching his back while flexing his knuckles after locking his fingers of each hand together. They cracked quite loudly. Mother and Father always said not to do that, but he sometimes did it out of habit when he was stretching or whatever. ".. Plus... I might go and take a shower myself, then I need to do some, uh..." He paused. Wow, he almost openly admitted something, and that would be embarrassing. Very embarrassing.


"Stuff." He said, hoping that he wouldn't have already revealed to much. "You know... Uh... Texting. Texting Jenna, I mean." He said, scratching the back of his head. "Alright..." He said awkwardly, and then walked up to the door and shoved it open, but then looked back over his shoulder. "Night, little sister." He joked. "Love ya', sleep well." He said, and then closed her bedroom door open and then made his way back to his own room - before he did that, actually, he turned on one heel and then made his way downstairs and to the kitchen where he found Mrs Greene baking.


".. Hey--.. I'm sorry about all that." He said, and then gave her a gentle hug.


"It's fine, dear... Are you okay now?" She asked as she peeked through the window of the oven. She was making chocolate chip cookies. Awesome.


"I'm fine, Missus Greene... Thank you." He smiled at her, and then walked over to the kitchen table and smiled as he sat down and took a deep breath. He figured that he may as well stick around for a while and try some of her cookies. Her baking was the best, no doubt.
 
April 19th, 2014.


Clayton, Georgia, USA.






"No.." Mia's voice croaked as her eyes had barely parted but she could clearly see the digital numbers of the bed side cloak - 09:27 a.m.


No, no, no! It was a Saturday, yes, but Mia was supposed to wake up early, go running, come back, and do her homework. That was supposed to all happen before eight and here it is now nearly half past nine.


Exhaling, defeated, Mia creeps towards the edge of the bed from under her sheets; her legs swinging off the side and onto the floor, the cold wood touching her warmed skin zapped her a little more awake. It wasn't as bad as the time her Father poured ice water into bed. That was fucking terrible.


Barely awake still, Mia nevertheless left the comfort of her bed, stiffly walking to her dresser and pulling out a pair of sweat pants. She typically slept in her underwear and a shirt, just for comfort's sake; the sweat pants were a relief from wearing jeans all week. Mia signed, her eyes closing not in exhaustion but relishing the buttery cotton feeling against her skin. Today didn't start off the way Mia had planned - but hey - at least her sweatpants felt good still.


In the bathroom, Mia brushed her teeth, flossed, and and swished a mouthful of Mint Mouthwash. She stared in the mirror, looking at the mess her hair had become overnight; it was flat on one side, dried into a crunchy wave and the other side was a soft fluff of loose curls. Spritzing water into her hair and combing through it, the two sides finally matched - booth loose curls down past her smallish breast and in the middle of her back.


Outside in the hallway, she leaned on the railing, looking down the stairs and listening for...something. There was a quiet hum of a coffee machine, a gentle clicking, a mild smell of eggs, and that was it. Looking across the railing to the other side of the house where her parents' room was, she saw the door was still closed. There wasn't any running water coming from their bathroom nor the smell of Mother's perfume that she put on everyday, even if she was just staying in the house.


Going downstairs, Mia continued evaluating and listening; it was so quiet. Too quiet.


Mia went right into the formal living room, walking through it to the formal dining room, then through that room to the breakfast nook and finally into the kitchen. Mrs. Greene was scrambling eggs on the stove, humming to herself and swaying to her own music. Mia quietly moved through the kitchen to the fridge, creaking its door and reaching for the usual plate of fruit Mrs. Greene left sliced and left in the fridge every morning.


Mia plucked a piece of melon, biting into it. "Is Carl awake? Is Mom and Dad awake?"


Mrs. Greene whips around, grabbing over her heart and mumbling something. "No, child. Stop eating the fruit." Mrs. Greene rushes over - as quickly as an old woman rushes - softly tapping Mia's hand and closing the fridge.
 
On the previous night, Carl had sat up speaking to Mrs Greene about how he'd scored himself a date, and he also spoke about what his evening with Mia was like, all while drinking some cold milk and eating warm cookies that she made. He felt like such a kid again - in a sense, he did love Mrs Greene, seeing as she'd been there for as long as he could remember. He considered her part of the family, but he didn't ever think she'd take that much interest in his personal life.


It turns out that she did.


It meant quite a lot for her to sit down and talk to him about everything that went on, and after one hug and a goodnight wish, he wandered upstairs to take a shower. He spent an additional fifteen minutes in the bathroom doing... other things, and then he climbed into bed for a goodnight sleep.


April 19th.





He'd been awake for quite some time now. He didn't know why, but he woke up really early and just couldn't get back to sleep. He was just laying there with his eyes shut for a good... Christ, he didn't even know. A couple of hours, at least. When he'd finally had enough of trying to go back to sleep, he got up and went into the bathroom - Yep, his weak bladder struck him every morning (which was a problem when he was younger; he wet the bed quite a lot) before he even had the chance to leave his room. Usually when he woke up, he'd feel the need to run to the bathroom.


When he was done, he flushed the toilet, washed his face, and then went wandering downstairs - he was wearing his black boxer shorts and showing off his manliness. He didn't really care too much if people saw him in this state. He wasn't muscular, but he was in shape. He occasionally went for a run outside, but he only did that during the Autumn. He was signed up to a gym just into town where he did cardiovascular exercises a few times a week for one or two hours.


He walked into the kitchen and then looked over the both of them as he flattened his hair with his hand, smiling a little.


"Good morning..." He said, he took a look around and frowned a little. It wasn't like mom and dad to sleep in this late. ".. Mom and dad aren't up yet?" He asked, one eyebrow raised. "That's strange. I've been lying there awake since seven o'clock... I didn't hear any movement from their room - that's the time that they usually get up, too." He explained, and then went over and sat down at the table in the breakfast nook. ".. Missus Greene... Could I have a cup of coffee, please? You know how I like it." He shot her a friendly smile and got one back. He loved the coffee she made - pure coffee with plenty of cream, and plenty of sugar - it was more of a latte, but... Regardless, he liked it.
 
'Eww." Mia jeered at her brother, covering her eyes with her hands and turning her back on him. "Walking around naked! You're going to give Nan a heart attack." Dropping her hand Mia laughed casually, Mrs. Greene also softly laughing at the stove, and Mia lightly patted the older woman's shoulders. Standing behind her, Mia tightened the straps of the woman's apron. Mia never understood why the woman wore an apron but it was probably because she was getting into her part as the housekeeper. Keeper of everyone in the family. If Mrs. Greene wasn't here, they'd probably all starve!


Hearing Carl was for coffee, Mia went to the normal cupboard where the cups were - nothing. Damn. She moved them. Not wanting to disturb Mrs. Greene, glancing back to see her dividing eggs between four plates, Mia decided just to take the time to hunt for the mugs. Not over here. Not over there. Mrs. Greene had time to start frying sausage by the time Mia found the mugs, conveniently stacked in a cupboard over the coffee maker. How nice.


Mia poured the coffee and walked it to the table to Carl, and then back to the kitchen to bring the cream from the fridge and the sugar cubes from the counter. "Nan's busy. You've got to ruin your own coffee today." Mia smiled, pinched her brother's cheek, and went back into the kitchen to lean against the counter and watch breakfast's progress. Mrs. Greene never at with them because she ate before she cooked; once she said that she could clean more of the house if we were eating and she wasn't.


Mia sneaked another piece of fruit and looked up to the ceiling, listening for footsteps or something. The window near the kitchen is open, the curtains drawn back but the thinner curtain underneath still in place. Those were sheer and easily seen through, letting in the Sun's light but not the Sun's heat.


The cars were still in the driveway. They didn't leave. Maybe they're walking.


No, Mother hates walking.
 

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