literature

Fix You _ 4

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((Rachel))

   I cut the engine to the bike a little ways up the street from my house. Oh god. Why did I come back?

   I looked down and saw my mother’s tattered makeup bag in the mesh of the duffle bag.

   That’s why.

   I walked over to my window. I hadn’t been reglassed, but my father had nailed boards of wood to it. It looked obnoxious, like something you’d see in an old Loony-Tunes film. I walked around to our back door, it connected to the far corner of the kitchen, and no one ever used it. I wandered in and crept through the house silently. Nothing illuminated the dingy house. I knew this house better than the back of my hand; I stepped lightly on the floor boards I knew would creek, and avoided random clutter that hadn’t moved from the floor since I was 5.

   I wondered if anyone was home. My dad obviously didn’t call the police or anything like that. He wouldn’t turn himself in for killing that woman, or for abusing me and my mother. No he would take his chances hiding the body. But had he already hidden it, was he out doing that now that night had fallen… or was it still in the house with him?

   And my mother? Was she in this house? Or was she lying under the earth with Britney. I guess there’s only one way to find out.

   I found myself standing at my parents’ door. The door seemed at least 10 times larger and more intimidating than the last time I was here. I placed my hand on the doorknob that was once spray painted bronze but was now chipped and worn to reveal the cheap scrap metal it really was.

   The metal was a cool sensation on my heated palms. I twisted it slowly, trying to avoid making much noise. I let go of the hand as the door soundlessly swung open.

   The smell hit my nose instantly. Not the smell of bodies in decay, but the overwhelming putrid smell of ammonia. He’s been cleaning. I looked to the bed where there was a lump under the blanket, far too small to be my demon of a father. I walked slowly to the bed. I put my hand just on the rim of the worn black duvet.

   Was it her? I inhaled and exhaled deeply and pulled the blanket back.

   “FUCKING HELL!” my father screamed from the door way. “COME BACK DID YOU? YOU HORRIBLE HORRIBLE BITCH DAUGHTER!”

   Horrified, I jumped back as my mom sat up straight in the bed. I only had a split second to be happy that my mother was alive before I took in her face while my father continued to scream. Both her soft loving eyes were blackened, and she had a large gash through her right eye brow that disappeared into her hairline, her bottom lip was busted and I could tell from the thin night shirt she was wearing that her body was badly bruised.

   I tuned to my father “What did you do?” I felt the sharpness of my words slide off my tongue likw razor blades. I wasn’t yelling, in fact my voice was barely above a whisper, but I managed to silence my father.

   I looked into his cold amber eyes. My mom told me when I was little that eyes let you see deep into people’s souls. I looked into my father’s eyes and saw nothing. Nothing but the cold amber irises framing his dilated pupils.  

   “You have gone too far. Look at her.” I gestured weakly with my arm towards my mother, who looked at me with fear for me. “Is that love? Is that taking care of her? Through sickness, or through health? Is this how much you love the goddamn woman you married?!” My voice grew stronger with each word I spoke. “why, daddy?”

   The whole time he stared at me, but the second I called him daddy he snapped. “YOU BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU!” he lunged for me and it was my turn to be in shock. My mother also lunged at the same moment and pushed me aside and my father hit her side and they both crashed into the night side table, knocking over and breaking the lamp that had been the only source of light in the room.

   “run” I was muffled, but it was my mother.

   “I won’t leave you again!” I said feeling the tears brim my eyes.

   “now!” her tone was glacial and harsh.

   “Mommy-”

   “NOW!” I caught her gaze and saw nothing but hatred.

   I got up from where I fell on the ground and ran for the door. I heard my father chasing behind me after a minute and all the bravery I had felt while giving him my little speech melted from my body and disappeared down some metaphorical drain.

   I felt numb as I ran from my father, as he yelled “I’ll kill her if you ever come back.”

   We both knew very well who ‘her’ was. Because on some deep level we both loved her.



((Garfield))

   It must have been 12 when I heard the motorcycle outside my house.

   “You expecting more guests?” Cy asked looking up from the notebook he was currently writing our new lyrics in.

   “Nope.” I said walking out of the garage. It was a neat garage, black and white checkered floor, with a limey green wall, and techno pop art hung around.  A design I remembered from a restaurant that had been my mother’s favorite. Before the accident…

   I shook my head and walked to the front door. I looked into the dark and saw nothing. I was about to shut the door when I saw a lighter flicker on by the lake. It illuminated a familiar face for a few seconds before leaving her beauty to the darkness. I saw the red tip of her lit cigarette and could imagine her soft pale lips taking a long drag from the other end.

   I closed the door quietly and walked out towards the lake. It seemed to take forever to reach her, but at the same time I was by her side all too soon. I sat by her, not saying a word, sensing that she wasn’t in the mood to speak.

   I looked out at the lake and saw the refection of the small sliver of the mood ripple as something disturbed its peaceful surface. She finished her cigarette an immediately lit up another, but after her first drag she held it out in my direction. I wordlessly took it and inhaled. I handed it back as I exhaled. She took another drag, and her head tilted up ever so slightly and I watched as the smoke drifted aimlessly out of her parted pale lips.

   “I didn’t know where else to go.” Her voice was monotone, but I saw pain dance across her thickly lashed blue eyes. She took another drag, and offered it to me again.

    Took it and responded while watching my own excess smoke drift up and disappear into the night air. “I don’t mind” in fact I’m so glad you came back, I can’t explain why but I’m so glad.

   “What are you charging for the spare room in your house?” same monotone voice, but another flash of emotion in her soft eyes. Desperation.

   I was also desperate. “10,000$ down payment, and a monthly pitch for rent” I raised the price and immediately felt guilt swell up my throat.

   She got up wordlessly and took her cigarette and stalked away. Shit now she’s gone forever. I was about to chase after her and tell her I’d lower the price, but she was back before I had moved. She dropped a rolled up wad of cash into my lap, and sat back down.

   I was appalled. I opened it and slowly counted out 10,000 dollars. I stared in amazement and started counting again as she lit up her third and final cigarette.

   I didn’t have words for her. Where had she gotten this money? She really didn’t strike me as the rich and wealthy type. I had to remind myself that it was none of my business. “Welcome” I said quietly.

   We finished off the last cigarette and I grabbed her bag for her. We walked into the house and I led her to the guest room. I placed her bag on the bed. “Do you need bedding?” I asked knowing very well she didn’t have bedding shoved into the duffle bag.

   She shook her head sharply once.

   “I have extras, I’ll be right back.” I walked out and heard the door close behind me.

   I was moving the extra towels in search of clean sheets when Robin came up behind me. “Who’s here?” I jumped, startled. I had forgotten they were here.

   “Oh just an old friend.” I said not making eye contact and returning to my search for clean sheets. “She’s staying with me for a while.” I finally found some old light lavender purple sheets and a dark gray duvet. I grabbed the bed set, pushing out the memories it held. “She really likes to be alone, so you guys stay out of her business, kay?”

   “Sure.” Robin walked back to the garage holding a beer in his hand.

   I walked back to the guest room and reached for the handle with my right hand while balancing the blankets on my left arm. Seems like Rachel discovered the lock. I strained my ears and heard soft sobs. I knocked lightly and the sobs silenced, but she didn’t answer the door.

   I put the bedding on the floor, beside the door. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer of my own and walked to the garage feeling strangely defeated.
well here's part four for everyone who was looking forward to it :) I've gotten so much positive feedback on this story, and I absolutely adore everyone who leaves a comment below, and I cant wait to hear more of what y'all think!!
((This story will include [but is not limited to] drugs, cursing, and sexual content))

[Side Note: here's a picture of Raven/Rachel sitting outside smoking ash280.deviantart.com/art/I-di… ]
I wish my visual art was better, but oh well.

Part1 _ ash280.deviantart.com/art/Fix-…
Part2 _ ash280.deviantart.com/art/Fix-…
Part3 _ ash280.deviantart.com/art/Fix-…

Part5 _ ash280.deviantart.com/art/Fix-…
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it a good drawing.