The world’s a blur of color and motion. Faces that mean nothing right now, words that won’t be remembered. Emotions that can’t be comprehended or put into words. Every waking moment is torture. New adornments of black, blue, and purple on already marred skin. Crimson paint on a gentle white canvas. Sensations of a poisoned mind. Whatever serenity she once had possession of is no longer hers. It all slips through ghost-like fingers into an ocean of abyss. No more lights of joy, only demons and their shadows. They dance to a sound that’s all their own. Not music, but a cacophony of muffled strangulation that only they enjoy. A dance of sharpened knives. She feels the pressure of a cataclysmic downfall. Eyes sown with pain and lips stained with life’s most poisoned words. She shakes as his fingers wrap roughly around her throat and the claws of her other assailant dig into spindly arms. The pressure of a body that isn’t hers pressed against her own. Her struggle is wasted and energy is drained like blood from flesh. Tendrils of hot alcoholic air caress her as he forces himself on her. Forcing her to remain where he’s most comfortable. Pathetic. Weak. A waste of perfectly good space and air. Shadows scream at her from the darkest part of her mind. It’s her voice that shreds the air into tiny pieces. Another blow reduces the sound to whimpers. Closing her eyes does nothing to alleviate the actual reality of what’s being done to her by her own flesh and blood. The one person she’s supposed to look up to and had until that very moment. A gentle river pools from her eyes.

Eijinn gently shakes the girl once more and moves back so as to not startle or frighten her. Also, to not end up like Jason. From what he can tell, her night terrors are getting worse. He doesn’t know what causes them, but he knows that waking up every other night half sober from her screaming isn’t helping anyone. His eyes match hers, copper filled with slight irritation and sleep. It takes her a bit to come to herself.

“Sorry…”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really make up for the fact that you woke the whole house. Maybe learn to scream a little less loudly. Or not at all.”

She doesn’t say anything. Not that she ever has anything to say to him. While uncertain about exactly why , she knows she doesn’t like him. Presuming it to do simply with his alcohol consumption. Although, there’s a part of her that says otherwise. Still, he wakes her when she’s terrified. Whether, it’s because she’s annoying or he actually cares, she’ll never know. The bedroom door opens and instead of Aaron or Bryant as expected, it’s Mitchell. A frown is tossed in Eijinn’s direction. With an agitated groan, the red head gets up from the bed and leaves the room. Mitchell closes the door before turning his full attention to her. Like some of the others he’s not too happy about being woken up in the middle of the night. However, he’s more concerned about what’s causing her to scream in the first place. Mocha colored eyes stare at pure brown ones. He doesn’t say anything. Simply watching her, as though his life depends on it. Both remain silent as he waits for her to gather herself. Sitting not too far from her on the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Where’s Aaron?”

Mitchell laughs hesitantly, face flushing a deep shade of pink. She’s the only person in the house who doesn’t know about Aaron’s sexuality. Or anyone’s for that matter. Not that it’s a topic one brings up casually. And he’s definitely not sure how to explain it to her. Her head tilts and a frown graces her face when he doesn’t answer her.

“It’s a tad complicated.”

“What’s complicated?”

“Yeah, Mitchell, what’s complicated?”

Both Mitchell and Marie look to the door to see two sweaty figures, Aaron and Bryant. Aaron’s dark tresses are matted down and the ink on his slightly tanned skin shines in the dim light coming from the hall. Bryant is also in a similar fashion.

“N-nothing, I just thought you were sleeping. Marie asked for you.”

Almost instantly Aaron laughs. Mitchell’s face darkens in embarrassment and Marie is still clueless. Bryant on the hand isn’t sure who he should feel bad for.

“Aaron be nice. I’m sure he meant well. Did you tell her, Mitchell?”

“No! It’s awlward to explain your situation to a twelve year old!”

“I AM NOT TWELVE! I’M SIXTEEN!”

All three males look flusters. Aaron’s laughter ceases and his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“You’re 16?”

“Yes!”

“Mitch, get out.”

“Aaron, she’s fine. Go do whatever you were doing.”

“I’m sorry. I don;t think you heard me. Let me rephrase it a bit. GET THE FUCK OUT NOW!”

Mitchell flinches, but quickly exits the room. Scurrying past Aaron as fast as he can. Bryant steps into the room after Aaron, closing and locking the door in the process. Both males’ eyes have darkened considerably.

“Marie, do you remember what we talked about?”

“How can I forget?”

“Good. Now I have another question and I need you to be honest with me. Very honest.”

“Be happy it’s Bryant asking you and not me.”

“Aaron. Marie, sweetheart, how long has your family been mistreating you and you just haven’t said anything to anyone??”

“It’s not exactly my whole family.”

“I’m not sure I understand…”

“I don’t either?”

“My parents passed away when I was nine.”

“So adoptive parents? Foster parents? What?”

“You have a legal guardian, oviously. Why not report them?”

She goes silent. The very thing htey don’t want. Eyes lowered to her lap.

“You do have a legal guardian, don’t you?”

“S-sort of.”

Guilt and fear play out a movie on her features. Desperation and avoidance tell a tale meant for a horror book. For a moment, Bryant’s not sure he wants the answer anymore. Still it’d be nice to have some idea of what’s going on. Maybe help her if possible.

“We can’t do this all night.”

“I tech… I technically… umm… live with my older brother.”

Aaron stops pacing, turning ever so slowly to face her. Almost as though he’s not sure he heard her correctly. The pieces fall quickly into place. How she hasn’t turned to drugs or violence is a mystery. Worst of all, how can someone treat their own-nevermind.

“Brother? That constitutes as family, sweetheart.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“Aaron enough…”

“Bry, for once, put two and two together without it being spelled out for you.”

Aaron’s skin is turning red with anger. He’s pacing again, mumbling swears under his breath along with insults. Bryant’s still confused, looking between the two. The only indication from Marie that she’s morbidly uncomfortable being her body shaking and tears coming from her eyes. Am I missing something? I get her brother is the one abusing- Oh, god! He looks at her with wide eyes. Her silence is all the acknowledgment he needs. The tension digging further into the room. Marie’s watching Aaron. Something Bryant notices she does often when she’s not sure what else to do. Every time though, he notices a fear in her that’s much different from the fear present any other time. This one raw and stretched dangerously thin. Suddenly, Aaron stops. Fists still at his side. Angry electricity surging through green eyes.

He just watches them for a moment. Bryant staying through an angry pacing spell is usual. Generally people try to get away from him when he’s like that. She didn’t. The terror is there, but she hasn’t gotten up to run from the room. Simply keeps her eyes on him. Considering what her life has been all these years she shouldn’t even want to be near him. Let alone watch him as if looking away will make him disappear. Every tense muscle relaxes, hands unclenching and pushing his hair back gently. For fucks sake… she’s seen enough violence in her life. I shouldn’t add to it like this. Worst of all, how can someone treat their own-nevermind.

“Sorry…”

The room is comfortably quiet. Aaron sits on the floor as the three of them just zone out completely. Nothing, but their breathing fills the space.

“Why haven’t you reported him to the police?”

“Because it’s my fault he’s stuck with me. I have nowhere else to go.”

“Your parents dying isn’t your fault. They died and you were put In his custody. You didn’t ask for that.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not my fault.”

“We don’t need the details. You’ve dredged up enough tonight. Just know that whatever happened wasn’t your fault, and unless you actually had a hand in what happened you shouldn’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

More silence. Decadent almost. Assurance filled. Finally the energy of the room settles. Sinking into everyone’s skin. Nestling neatly in calmed veins.

“Try and get some sleep. We’ll check on you in the morning.”

“Why did Mitchell turn red when I asked for Aaron?”

“Oh you precious innocent thing. That’s probably not a discussion for tonight or anytime soon. Another time. Good night, Marie.”

“Good night.”

The door shuts quietly behind the two as they leave. It doesn’t take long for her demons to return. Howling in her head as loud as they can. Shearing her sanity and making pits in her mind. Pits full of all too similar visions. Blood stained memories burn just as a house does. In parts and all at once.

It’s her own voice, shrill and filling the air. Almost matching the sound of the accident she’s witnessing. Tears brighter than the flames engulfing the flipped vehicle.

Snapping from the sight is almost impossible to do. Still, she manages to pull it off without making too much noise. The last thing she wants is to explain how being born is the whole reason her brother is the way he is. How he’s why they had an accident. How he’d cut the brakes in the car hoping she’d be inside when the accident happened.