21 | hallucinate (part two)

I DON'T SLEEP THAT NIGHT. My mother comes in to check up on me periodically, but in some half-asleep state, I grab a fistful of her hair and push her away. She doesn't come back to my room after that, not that it makes any difference.

The morning is one of a hazy grey light creeping in through the cracks in the blinds and freshly squeezed orange juice on the table, while eggs and sausages sizzle in a pan on the stove. I sit at the table with my fingers clasped around a scalding mug of coffee, head bowed to allow the sleep-deprivation to set in.

"Morning, sweetie." My mother's voice is oddly cheerful. "I've noticed you and Ebony haven't really been yourselves lately―even if I haven't been around lately, sorry darling―so I've set you both up separate appointments with Mr Rose today, okay?"

In the middle of taking a sip of my coffee, my eyes widen and I splutter. "We don't need to see Mr Rose."

"I knew you wouldn't be too happy," she admits, a slight grimace shining through her calm expression. "But I think it's for the best."

"We're really fine, Maman," I say, insisting in my desperation. "And―and we don't need separate appointments. We're fine together."

"I've noticed." She nods. "But you two have been spending an awful lot of time together, almost an abnormal amount, and I think it's better if you take these appointments separately. Especially since I have so much to deal with today."

Sugar-sweet, but underneath that, her voice is firm and will not take any arguments.

I deflate, my stomach churning. If I even tried to explain, would she even care?

"Yes Mum," I say, voice tight. "I'll tell Ebony."

She starts to protest as I abandon my still steaming coffee and leave the table, but with the impending thought of Mr Rose resurrecting itself in my head in blazing pyres, I can't bring myself to care. Doesn't she understand what she's doing? One time, I want to ask my mother what the word no means to her.

Maybe then she could teach the word in all its forms to Mr Rose, and he would never bother me again.

Ebony comes downstairs for breakfast, blazer hanging over the banister as he drags his school jumper over his head and jumps the last few steps. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he registers me stood there; taking in the probable parting of my lips and dilapidation of my breathing.

"What's up?" He asks, inserting his arms into his blazer.

I find myself curling my fingers around the knob of the banister. "Mum's made us both have appointments with Mr Rose. Separate ones."

I want to cry. In all the times I've had to face that man, I've at least had my brother to stand beside me; stand between us so nothing will happen. Without Ebony there, what'll stop him doing what he wants? Will he listen to me if I try?

"Have you tried talking to her?" He asks, his hand falling on top of mine. It's supposed to be reassuring, but I can't make my mind up on whether it is or not.

"Well, I told her that we didn't need them, or could go together, but she didn't seem to think it was a good idea. She was doing that whole sweet-but-firm thing," I say.

"Yeah," he drawls out, his stony gaze flat on mine. Sometimes I hate that we have the same eyes; it's like looking into a mirror that judges your every move "But have you tried talking to her? About the actual problem at hand?"

"Well―," I start to protest, but his sigh cuts me off.

"Ry, you can't expect everything to work in your favour if you don't do anything to help it," Ebony says, ever-rationalising the situation. "Maybe if you tried talking to her, she wouldn't make you go."

"But...she'll just think I'm being silly because nothing has actually happened," I object, my fingers tightening around the wood, and my knuckles flushing white from the strenuous grip. "You know that she won't believe me if I tell her. She'll think I'm taking all these things and turning them into him being a predator."

"Well…" Ebony trails off, and he swallows. I can see in his eyes: he agrees, and my chest tightens.

"You think that's what I'm doing," I whisper. "So, all those times you've been with me―,"

"I know it freaks you out," he interjects, trying to reason―with himself, and me. "Which is why I'm there. I've just...never quite got why. It's never seemed that bad to me, but I wouldn't just leave you."

"But you still think it's not a big deal," I clarify, running a hand through my hair. Still damp, from this morning's shower, and in one invasive thought-track, I wonder if I should have just drowned myself underneath the blunt, steaming jets. "Thanks Ebony. Thanks a lot."

"Ivory, you know I'm on your side." Ebony drags a hand through his hair. I whip back around to face him, my fingers clenching into fists.

"You say that," I begin, my bottom lip trembling. "But are you?"

I grab my half-empty coffee mug, topping the rest with the first drink I find in the wine-cooler―not even bothering to read the label―and down it in one.

When I leave, the slam of the front door resonates throughout the whole house. I want Ebony and my mother to feel it shake beneath their feet, I realise, sprinting to Archer's car and flinging the door open. I want them to know.

He raises an eyebrow as I toss my bag in the back and slide into the passenger seat.

"Ebony is sick," I lie, tied for an excuse. "And I don't want to go to school today."

"Not even Specials?" He asks, a frown beginning to set into his features.

"Not even Specials," I confirm, thinking back to anything that might drive his suspicion away from me. "I want to start singing lessons. Today. As soon as possible." I just don't want to see Mr Rose.

"Maybe for the morning…" Archer relents, reluctant. "Okay, we'll go, but I want to be in for Specials, is that okay?"

Specials. If I'm lucky, that will be after the appointment. "Okay. Only if you cover for me if anyone asks why I'm not there."

"Sure," Archer agrees. "I have your back."

More than my family does.

☆☆☆