Chapter 14: 14.

(Photo of Wayne Owens)

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I say why does it feel so good?

So good to be bad

Getting what I want, boy

Why does that make you so mad?

I stir in my half-awaken state, willing the noise to mute itself. Counting to three, the volume gets louder instead. This time with vibrations.

You see, why does it feel so good?

So good to be bad

Cause if it's trouble-

Finally, I thought, when the music stops but the person next to me starts sitting up on the bed. I groan, lifting my head up to retrieve the pillow beneath and cover my ears with it. I have no idea what time it might be, but it doesn't chase away the fact that I am majorly sleep deprived. Not getting full eight hours of sleep aside, I shared the bed with a pretty much goner Cass last night. And damn if I knew she's a blanket hogger, I would've much rather let her crash on the couch.

"Hello?" Her groggy voice sounds as she talks to whoever it is calling her. "Oh, yeah, it's cool...okay, yeah sure...I'll text when I'm heading back...bye."

"I know you're awake," she pulls away the pillow much to my dismay. "God, how much did I drink? I have a headache going on."

"Shut up." I snap, still back-facing her. "Get the damn Tylenol from the first drawer yourself."

"Wait... are you mad? At me?" She peers over my shoulder, hovering her face over mine while she annoyingly shakes my arm for attention.

"What do you think?" I fling my eyes open and stare intently in her brown orbs. "Do you have any idea I was practically shivering because you couldn't stop snatching the blanket to yourself?" I whisper-yell, not wanting to wake anyone else up. Besides, I don't think I'm fully awake enough to get into a verbal war this early. "And Jesus, it's a freaking queen size blanket! You're a blanket-thief!"

"So, this is all because of a blanket?"

"You don't have a clue how I always sleep with a blanket! Plus, it was 50F last night and you made me lie here, exposed!" I huff, not exaggerating one bit. Even during the summer, I'd make sure I have blankets draping over one leg at least, and this has been a habit since I was a child.

"Shit, you're really mad." Cass mumbles under her breath. She quickly lifts up the blanket and drapes it over my body and I feel the weight of the mattress shift as she moves to my bedside table, probably searching for the pill for her head. She fumbles for awhile before getting up and heading for the door.

I let out a deep breath when she closes the door softly behind her, feeling all the sleep in me gone now that I've spoken enough words to fully activate my brain. I lean against one elbow, reaching for my phone to check the time. 11:35AM. We went to bed at three in the morning, except that I only manage to drift to sleep at dawn. Understandably, I am in a hell of a foul mood and today is one of those days that you wake up and kind of just don't want any human interaction.

Knock knock.

"I come with peace offering," Cass enters the room five minutes later, holding up a tray of omelette and coffee. That immediately makes me sit up, hands stretched out to take the tray from her. She chuckles.

"That was easier than I expected." She plops down next to me on the bed, seemingly a little awkward as I dig in. I know, yet to brush my teeth, I know. But it's food right here. And I brushed before going to bed. It's okay, it's just one time, I say more to reassure myself it's not gross.

"You alright? Who called?" I ask, observing her awfully quiet demeanor from the corner of my eyes while I sip the hot coffee.

"Oh, just Paige." She smiles, focusing on her iPhone. "She wanted to check if I'd be in today. Her boyfriend's coming over probably." She sounds a little off, her voice hesitant as if she's not saying what she really wants to say; but I won't probe if she's not ready to say it yet.

"How're the both of you doing though?"

"Like I told you," she shrugs. "She's still closed off as ever, other than asking about school related crap. I tried actually holding a convo with her and all she answers are 'Mmm', 'yeah' or a head nod."

I haven't met Paige yet, but I guess I can relate to her a little seeing as that was exactly how I acted after things went south with my friendship and relationship one year ago. "Give her more time. It's only been a week, yeah? Maybe we can try getting her to hang with us during lunch."

"Yeah, perhaps." She puts down her phone, staring into space. I resume gobbling down the delicious omelette, letting silence fill the air.

"Okay, I'll bite." Cass says after awhile, scooting nearer to me. "Is it okay if I ask you why there's so many painkillers in your drawer? Like literally, you have all kinds of them stocked up."

I let out a laugh, turning to face her. "Is that why you were acting weird? You thought I'm suicidal or something?"

"No, of course not! I was just trying to come up with reasons why someone would need that many. But I- I drew a blank."

"Relax, I promise you I'm not trying to die or anything." I chuckle, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "That," I point towards the direction of said drawer, "is something you'll find out sooner or later anyway."

"Jeez, this is making me anxious."

"So, you remember I told you I had a miscarriage?" She nods. "Right. After I got my period back, I realized my body changed. The cramps I get during my cycle got a lot more intolerable. Hot water bag or chocolates no longer work. It got so, so bad that I needed painkillers every four hours. And honestly, the pills don't make the cramps go away. It lessens, just that little bit. The worst one, just a few months ago, I had to drag myself to ER just to get a morphine jab."

"Seriously?"

"Mmhmm. That's why there's so many different painkillers in there. Now you know, expect me to MIA for at least two days each month. I usually won't be able to function on the first two days."

Cass lets out a laugh, startling me. "Thank God! I genuinely assumed the worst."

———

"Stop looking at pullovers, will you just try this damn dress?" Cass shoves a hanger to my chest, a strapless little black dress with a large slit at the side clipped to it.

"Why would I even need this shit?" I counter, the both of us having already spent twenty-five minutes in this store. "I'm not buying anymore clothes just to keep them for three years later."

"Buy it, and I'll make sure I find an occasion for you to wear it."

"I'm unconvinced. What are you plotting in your head?"

"I'm not telling you until you try it. So go!" She shoves me into the dressing room, drawing the curtains and guarding right outside.

I lift the dress up in my hands, carefully taking it off the hanger and undress myself. Being constantly hidden behind large, baggy pullovers has an advantage; you don't realize how much fat you've gained until you try fitting into a body-hugging dress. I stare into the full-length mirror, noticing my tummy protuding more than usual. I look like I have a three-month-old food baby, and that's not at all a good thing considering it probably is what it is. I've been eating way too much.

"Come out whenever you're ready!" Cass shouts from outside.

I pull the curtains back, stepping out in the dress insecurely. It isn't so much about my body —all it takes is sucking in and holding it there for the tummy to temporarily vanish, but the fact my wrists are uncovered. Excluding the times at home where I lounge in pyjamas or a large t-shirt, I've always made sure I wear long sleeved tops or a jacket. And now, standing here with my wrists bare makes my stomach churn.

"I knew it! You look hot! The slit totally compliments your legs!" Cass excitedly turns me in a circle, before noticing my discomfort. "What's wrong? You don't like it?"

"No, not really." I mutter while absentmindedly fiddling with the hairties on my left wrist. Somehow, that caught her attention and understanding seems to dawn on her.

"Hey, Kelsey." She grabs both my hands in hers. "Scars are a part of you. There's no need to be ashamed or afraid of it. You're a fighter, and these," she rubs her thumb over two of the hairties without unravelling the scars completely, "are reminders of your strength."

I open my mouth to argue about that but she swiftly cuts me off. "Don't tell me it's weakness, no. It's strength and bravery. It takes a lot for someone to survive what you have been through. Your scars are there to remind you of what you've gone through, and that's in no way weak. If you're weak, you wouldn't be where you are right now."

"I don't think I'm ready to say that I've won the battle against my demons." I whisper, my eyes fixated at our hands between us.

"I know, and you don't have to. One step at a time. You've been hiding behind pullovers for the entire week. Now that I recall, even during both parties, you were in long sleeves. How about we try, we start by going once a week without covering? Keep the hairties on. If you want, let's go shop for some bracelets and a nice watch. So people wouldn't be curious about the hairties. But in all honesty, their opinions are irrevelant. What's important is that you, yourself, accepts them as a part of your own."

I glance up at her dark brown eyes, touched to see the gentleness and warmth in them. In a spur of the moment, I reach out to pull her in a tight hug. I feel her stiffen at first, yet instantly relaxes when she returns the embrace.

"Thank you, Cass. Those words mean more to me than you know. Nobody has ever said it to me before. And now hearing it for the first time, it makes me realize I really haven't tried hard enough at moving on. I keep hiding, running, when what I should be doing is accepting and learn from it." I pull back to meet her gaze, a wide smile is plastered on her face. "Okay, baby steps. Let's buy this dress."

———

Sunday evening, I decide that it's time I get my lazy ass up for a run. Unfortunately, I'm not one of those girls who can't seem to get fat no matter how much they eat. If I continue eating without exercising, I am definitely going to put on weight. Despite really hating to work out, being unable to fit into my favourite pair of shorts and jeans would make me even more depressed.

So I put on the only pair of New Balance sneakers I brought from home, grab my phone and earpiece, before rounding the neighbourhood on my feet. The skies are coloured in orange and a tinge of pink, the white light from street lamps coming alive one by one. By now, I've probably circled the shops and the park for at least five times.

Shit. I realize I actually didn't think to bring out any money. And here I am dying of thirst.

Just then, a car slows down and honks at my attention while I stand by the pavement. It'll be another fifteen minutes to run back to the house from where I'm at, but if I'm lucky, I can catch a ride too; albeit in my sweaty and stinky attire.

"Kel?" The windows of the white car rolls down, revealing my brother at the driver's seat. He had went out last night, probably to stayover at one of his flings' place, and is now possibly on his way home.

"Hey," I suck in a deep breath. This is one of the rare moments we catch each other alone, much less even conversing. "Um, are you heading back?"

"Yeah, you jogging back or do you want a ride?" He studies my sportswear from top to toe. I have on a loose white tanktop and grey leggings, my hair tied up in a high ponytail.

My body automatically moves towards the side of his car, and he takes that as an answer; unlocking the passenger door. I hop into his Range Rover for the first time, bit of cigarette mixed with fresh-cut pine smell fills the air —most likely from his Febreze.

"The guys aren't around, are they?" Wayne asks, trying to ease the obvious tension between us. The radio's shut off, so you can imagine how quiet it is other than engine sounds.

"Oh, no. Carson's there, or at least he was before I went out."

"Ah, I see."

For the rest of the five minutes drive, both of us sit uncomfortably in our seats. I purposely focus my gaze out the window instead. When he pulls up back at the driveway, I may have been too eager to unclick the seatbelt that he had to jump into the topic quickly.

"Wait, Kel." I pause my actions and look up to face him. He sits there with his one hand on the bottom of the wheel, the other on his lap; facing straightahead. "I think we need to really talk about this."

There it is, the damn elephant in the room.

"Do we have to do this now, here?" I grunt, leaning back into the seat.

"If not now, then when?" He turns to face my side profile. "This should've been talked about since the first day you came here. But we've been avoiding it for more than a week."

I sigh, now sitting up straight. Suddenly it feels like the space in the car is extremely small, suffocating even. "Okay then. What about?"

Wayne unclicks his own seatbelt, taking a stick in his mouth so I do the same. Whenever a smoke is involved, the conversation's generally friendlier; or at least, I hope. "I know how you feel about me all these years." He starts and I roll my eyes. "But do you think there's a possibility for it to change?"

I inhale a deep breath, urging my inner tigress to calm down. "I don't think you'll want to hear my answer, Wayne."

"If we want this to work, we gotta be honest. Y'know what? Ask me questions. I promise I'll tell you the truth now. I just don't want to carry on like that, with you avoiding me like a plague when we live together."

"Mm, 'kay. Were you ever guilty, or remorseful about the shit you've done to me?" I question while looking him in the eyes. His expression remains stoic, as if he's already expected that to come out.

"If we're talking back then, when I was sixteen or what, no. I wasn't guilty. I found enjoyment in dissing you, and that was fucked up of me. I've done way too many shits to you, that some of it you probably don't even know. But now? Yes, I'm regretful. And I'm not lying, I really am."

"What the fuck was so fun about making my life hell?" I take a long, hard drag, awaiting the answer I've so been asking myself for my whole life.

"I think it started when we were kids. I was probably five while you were two, and I felt neglected. You were the newest addition in our family, and all of our relatives couldn't stop vying for you, to play with you. Me? I was forgotten. All they'd ask me as a kid is whether I am a good brother to you, or whether I've bullied you. It was never about just me anymore. So yes, I was incredibly jealous. And this jealousness evolved into abonimation."

I cross my arms against my chest and scoff. Neglected? He's the favourite fucking child as much as I can recall. "Are you kidding me? You got away with almost every single prank you've done to me. I don't see you ever getting lectured but when you threw the bomb at me, I was punished! God, I was made to clean every single inch of the house in three days. And that was all because you told mom I was the one who clogged the damn toiletbowl, when it wasn't even me!"

His lips twitch at the corner, half-smiling, and I glare at him. How dare he finds it funny? Have you ever as an eight-year-old, had to go down to the eerie basement you were so afraid of alone, and wipe all the surface there while freaking out?

"It wasn't because I was favourited, Kel. Truth is, I was rebellious as heck. Mom and dad knew that I was mad jealous of you then, and they also knew if I don't get the kick out of the little pranks I put you through; I'd eventually do something worse, cause even more trouble not only for you, but the whole family." He explains and I listen intently to every word. This is all news to me, and although truth hurts sometimes, lies are fucking worse.

"And then when I grew older, bigger and more popular, I let the opinions of others get to me. I joined martial arts, hung with those cocky fucks, and instantly felt like I was above everyone else. I felt like I wasn't left out anymore, so I tried so damn hard to fit in with them. They thought it's embarrassing to associate themselves with people of a different 'level', so that's what I did to comply." He adds on, but anxiously tries to change it up when he realizes what he said. "I'm not trying to say you were of a lower level, pardon me that came out wrong."

"Cut the crap," I smirk. "We both know what I physically look like back then. Even I think I looked like shit, so you don't have to sugarcoat it."

"Right. That's about it. I'm well aware of the shit I've done, and I think I owe you an apology even though it's four years late." He sighs. "I'm sorry, sis. Sorry for being a complete jerk to you and making your life hell. I don't expect you to like, forgive me and pretend nothing happened. I know it takes time, but will you at least try not to avoid me?"

As much as I want to hate him, I can't help that part of me that actually yearns for an elder brother figure in my life. Though what's done is done, and no amount of good can offset the bad; holding on to grudge probably won't do me any good either. Contrary to belief, hating someone actually takes way more effort than loving them.

I nod at him after consideration, watching as a small smile appear on his lips. "Hold up. You said you've done shit that I don't know about? What is it?"

His smile drops instantly, and he brings up his hand to awkwardly scratch his scalp. "Uh... do you remember that one time you thought Brocco chewed up your English essay for that mid-year project?" Brocco is our family dog, a snow-white Maltese who's ten years old now. "Actually, I was the one who spilled coke on your papers, then being afraid of being caught; I tore them up and planted the blame on Brocco." He sheepishly grins, almost afraid of my reaction.

Hearing that, my eyes widen. I recall that time, during seventh grade when it happened, that I failed English for the first time because the project itself held a whopping seventy-five percent grade. I was so mad at Brocco that I refused to let him in my bedroom for a good three months.

"You fucker!"

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A/N: Apologize for the slightly boring chapter. Had to get all the essential informations out before I can carry on writing with the plot.

On a separate note, we finally made it to 1K reads! 🎉