Chapter Eight: Tears
~Chapter Eight~
Victoria sat in her living room frowning, staring into space. Her daughter was suicidal, but refused to tell anyone why, and now, when needed most, Victoria was having to leave. She sighed and walked to the kitchen, where she took down a glass and opened a bottle of scotch. It had only ever been opened once before, the only time she had drank recreationally since the twins had been born.
She poured herself six ounces, put the scotch away, and went to the porch out back. The moon was high, the sun long set, and her children were practicing kata in the light of the very full moon. She watched them practice for a few minutes, sipping her drink. After awhile though she had to go back inside, where she knocked back the remaining four ounces of alcohol. She stared at the reflection of herself in the kitchen window.
"What did I do wrong?" she asked her reflection. It gave her only a sad look back. She shook her head. No point in dwelling on it; she had a job to do tonight and her handler would be pissed if she wasn't at peak performance. She slipped her shoes on, pulled on her coat, and stepped to the back porch.
"M&M, bed soon. I should be back tomorrow sometime; if I'm not, call your aunt," she called to her kids. They ran over to hug her, and then she left.
Modest entered the house with her brother five minutes after her mother left; she went to the kitchen and made a sandwich. Three days ago, her brother had taken the morphine from her. She knew he wanted to know why she had planned to take it, but he had never pressed her for it. He only kept a watchful eye on her, never leaving her alone for long. She knew her mother had noticed his behavior: there had been concerned looks given when they thought Modest wasn't paying attention. Mom had not yet said anything though, for which Modest was grateful.
Her sandwich made, Modest walked to the living room, where Marcus was already watching TV. He glanced up as soon as she entered, analyzed what she was holding, and looked back at the television, apparently having decided her sandwich was not a threat to her life. Modest swallowed a biting comment about it, knowing he was only worried. She rubbed her chest a bit as she sat, the pain of the imaginary knife bothering her a little. The sensation didn't go away anymore; her only solace was in sleep, where she fell so deeply unconscious that dreams did not come. She brooded over this as she ate her food, staring at the television.
"Marcus," she said softly. He looked over at once. "Go see Naomi tomorrow." He shook his head.
"No," he said, "I'm staying with you. I told her you're sick and I need to take care of you; she understands. She told me that she hopes you feel better." Modest looks down and finishes her sandwich in silence. She knew he would refuse. She knew he would not leave her alone until he was certain she was safe, even from herself. She pulled her feet up on the armchair and wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her chin on her knees. She sat like that staring at the television without absorbing anything, not thinking. Only feeling the pain in her chest and the numbness of sensation around her.
The TV show was interesting enough that Marcus had not looked over at his sister for ten full minutes. When he did glance over, Modest had her arms wrapped around her knees, legs pulled up to her chest, and she was asleep, breathing softly. Only in sleep did he trust her safety, because only in sleep did the dead look in her face go away. He didn't know how to help her. He knew this was all probably because of his relationship with Naomi, but he wasn't sure. Besides, would leaving Naomi even help? Modest cared about his happiness and he knew if it seemed like he was denying that to himself because of her, it would crush her. So he watched and waited, reporting to his mother every day after Modest went to sleep.
At long last, the show went off. Marcus stood and went to his sister, rubbing her back softly to rouse her.
"Modest, time for bed," he said quietly. She woke quickly but looked groggy and confused. "Time for bed," he repeated. She stood and he followed her upstairs. The girl stripped down to her panties and put on her bed clothes, not even telling him to turn around in her tired state. He did anyway. Then, when she laid down, he covered her with her blanket. She was already asleep when he did. On impulse, he bent down and kissed her softly on the side of her snout before turning off her light, flipping on her night light, and going back downstairs to lock up and shut lights off. Then he returned upstairs to make sure she was still okay. He wouldn't have to stand in her doorway tonight watching over her since she was already asleep.
In his own room, Marcus stripped and took his bath. He'd remind Modest to take hers in the morning. When he was done, he put on clean boxers and got in bed with his lights off. Usually he took a few minutes to fall asleep, but it was late and he was tired. Tomorrow was Saturday, so he had no plans to get up early. All this lulled him quickly to sleep.
Modest passed out on the armchair with the sound and light of the living room around her; she woke in silence and relative darkness, her breath short and ragged and heart pumping fast. The confusion of her surroundings did nothing to dispel the panic from her dream, the first nightmare she'd had in six years. She couldn't even remember the details of the dream, only that it was terrifying. She was shaking as she sat up, crying by the time she had opened her bottle of water. After her drink, she curled up in a ball on her bed, willing the fear and panic to go away, but it wouldn't. She felt like she was in danger, and she felt terribly alone. She needed someone. Her mother was gone, but Modest knew that even if Victoria was here to hold her it would not do. She got up and went out of her room, down the hall, and quietly opened the door of her brother's bedroom, padding in with her tail between her legs. The tears were streaming down her face as she crawled into her brother's bed and shook him.
"Marcus," she said in a ragged voice, "wake up. Please wake up." He took no time in jerking into consciousness, confused. Why was his sister in his bed? Was she crying? She was. That realization made him wake fully.
"What's wrong?" he whispered to her. She sat there, no longer touching him and looking lonely and afraid, and he opened his arms. "I'm here." The invitation was all she needed and Modest flung herself forward into his arms sobbing, the unknown dream having breached the carefully built barrier holding back all the terrible emotions she had amassed over the past weeks. Though she had been around her brother, it felt like she had been alone the whole time, isolated by a profound pain and that omnipresent veil of distance. She curled up into his chest and he held her tight as she sobbed, crying into his chest over and over, "I miss you, I love you, don't leave me." After a time, Marcus himself joined her in her tears, though afterward he would never understand why.
After awhile, they quieted. Modest, completely spent, fell back asleep clinging to her brother. Marcus kept holding her, and whispered to her before falling asleep finally himself, "I love you too Modest. More than anyone, I love you."
~~To Be Continued~~