Florescent Adolescent

Everything was bottling up. The pressure of being the perfect brother, and being the comedic relief of the gang was piling up. It keeps on piling, and piling, and piling up to the point where it feels like I'm drowning. You know when you’re drowning you don’t actually inhale until right before you black out. It’s called voluntary apnea. It’s like no matter how much you’re freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won’t open your mouth until you feel like your head’s exploding. Then when you finally do let it in, it stops hurting. It’s not scary anymore. It’s actually… kind of peaceful.

That's been my life lately. Spiraling into a downwards hill, and the people I love are being hurt left and right. Everything is turning to shit, and the worst part is I can't do anything about it. People always expect me to be that goofy guy who doesn't let anything bother him. Cracking jokes and smiling even though everything is the opposite from fine on the inside. The stress is piling up, and I feel like screaming but I have to keep my sanity for the sake of everyone. No one knows how it is behind closed doors. That's when the panic attacks hit me. They're either a hit or miss, really. I can be cool as an ice cube one minute, and the next the drowning feeling comes. I can't breathe, and the world around me blanks out. My throat numbs, and my body prevents me from feeling anything besides that state of panic. I'm reaching for that breath of fresh air, and my body won't allow me to do it until my head is seconds away from exploding.

"Two-Bit? Are you okay?"

Turning my head at her, I plastered on that smile. The smile assuring everyone around me that I'm fine. Totally and perfectly fine. Blair's lips were pressed together in concern, and the last thing she needed was to be worried about her big brother.

"I'm fine."

"No you're not."

"Besides from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant overwhelming feeling that something terrible is about to happen. It's not just a feeling, I'm drowning, Blair Bear. Everything just keeps on getting worse and worse. Everything's turning to hell." I said, flashing a smile at her.

Her blue eyes flashed with concern, and I know that's what she didn't expect. She expected me to be fine just how I always am, but it just came out. Everything came out, but to be quite honest that was nothing compared to everything else bubbling over the surface. Blair being Blair, didn't have much to say. Her expression was pained.

"If you're going though hell keep going." Blair said, without saying anything else she left the kitchen making her way upstairs.

I wanted to say something to her. I wanted to tell her that she doesn't understand, and will most likely never understand. She's the youngest, and the youngest always gets what she wants. Blair or Audrey will never understand what it feels like to be responsible for everyone else since a young age. None of them will ever understand that, and sometimes I want to disown myself. I want to leave town without a dime in my name and just run. Run to a big city without ever looking back.

It was a Tuesday when she first got diagnosed. It was merely a year and a half ago when it was the beginning. No one wanted to face the music, and admit that she was dying. I had to hold everything together, and still have that grin on my face. I was dying, and it almost as if I was the sick one, not mom. The following events were nothing, but disaster. She spent more and more time in the hospital, and there were days when we thought she was going to die. We all thought she was going to die peacefully in her sleep. It would be blissful. After all of her bullshit and putting on her brave face God would give her a chance, and let her die in peace.

While mom was in the hospital, it was just Freddy, Audrey, Blair, and I. The four of us trying to manage without the glue of the family. We were ripping at the seams living in the same house as an alcoholic junky who wasn't our father. He was close to it, because they both enjoy drinking and taking their anger out on everyone around them. 

She stayed in the hospital for three weeks one time. No one wanted to admit it that it was her time to go, but in the pit of my stomach I knew that it was going to happen. It was just the two of us. Blair and Audrey were with Bre and Maddie. I always told them to stay far away from the house especially with Freddy supposedly looking after the three of us. As soon as I opened the front door from school, chaos began.

He sat on dad's chair. Not any other chair in our makeshift living area, but dad's chair. He was drinking from his almost empty bottle of Jack, and without a care in the world words started sputtering out of his grotesque lips. 

"It's you. It's all you. You know everyday I see her on that hospital bed slowly dying, and I keep on thinking how the hell am I supposed to raise this stupid kid on my own? The other two I don't mind, but you. This hyperactive little bastard who keeps on ruining my life. It's all yooooou. It's you, Two-Bit. You're killing your mother, you hear me? You're killing her, and now you're killing me." He spat at me.

He slowly got up and with his empty glass bottle, he hurled it at my head. Glass shattering everywhere, and I didn't cry. All that hurt the most were his words, everything he said was right. Every god damned word. I didn't mean to cause her so much stress, and part of me convinced my naive sixteen year old self that I made dad walk out. I have always been that hyperactive little bastard who uses comedy as his only defense. 

Leaving me on the carpet with glass shards on my skin, and blood oozing out of my scalp he left. It wasn't the first time he took his intoxicated anger out on me, but the words cut deeper than the glass shards. No son wants to hear that they're killing their own mother. No child ever wants to hear the ugly truth. The years of all the pretty lies, and the ugly truth my family never wants to hear about. 

Even now I don't understand anything. I want to be like Blair. I want to be oblivious to all of the pain around me, and keep smiling for no apparent reason. I want to be anyone else, but me. Rubbing my temples I went upstairs, and the constant nagging voice inside my head kept telling me to move out and never look back. I don't want to be one of those people. Actually, I don't want to be like my dad to be more specific. I don't want to be that coward who runs away when the going gets tough. I'm slowly killing myself with the stress of my shattered family. We used to be so loving and wholesome, but behind that perfect family picture hanging up in the hallway, the family of all smiles are all dying on the inside. Dead, but smiling for the sake of everyone around them.

~~~~
"Dad used to... touch Blair." Audrey said, touching my hand tears welling up in her bright blue eyes.

No. Never. He might have been and still be an overworked abusive alcoholic, but he'd never do that. Never to his own children. He's not that type of person. Nope.

"No." Was all I could manage to stay in the mess of thoughts inside my head.

"Why would I lie about that, Keith?!" Blair cried, her voice cracking and glistening tears running down her freckled porcelain face.

"BECAUSE HE WOULDN'T!" I shouted, unable to process the harsh reality.

Blair and Audrey's mouths were open wide, and they didn't say anything else. My hands were shaking, and I wanted to keep my cool. I wanted to be the cool funny older brother I always am, but I felt a banging in my chest. I felt my head spinning, and the banging soon turned into a suffocating feeling. My vision began to blur, and the splitting headache took place.

I knew the feeling. The feeling I get every night due to the constant stress. I didn't want my two little sisters to see me become undone, and in a vulnerable state. I couldn't control my involuntary actions, but I was drowning. My lungs felt like they were made out of iron making it difficult to gasp for air, and my vision soon became even more blurred. My ears closed out, and I was unable to feel anything besides disappointment. Disappointment in not only myself, but my family.

It didn't even feel like a panic attack by this point. I felt like I was dying when the numbness in my limbs took place. It sort of felt like I was in one of those dreams that everyone has. Your toes curl around the edges of that cliff, and you just jump. You're free falling, and you have no idea why. Doctors say it's stress related, but during that particular moment I would be better off dead. I hoped my lungs would never open again, and I would just die right then and there. Some might say it's cowardly to think like that, but I've never had a break. I've never had a break in about twelve fucking years. Blair and Audrey always look up to me, but I'm no better than my own father.

I remember the nights he would come down from the attic, and into my bedroom. No, he never touched me like that, but he did touch me in more ways than one. He would stumble down into my room, and start hurling things at me. His breath always reeked of that whiskey, and he'd laugh when I'd always cry out "daddy stop!"

He got enjoyment watching his oldest crumble. It first started when I was four, and ended when he left. Then when he left I thought I was safe until mom's boyfriend did the same thing. Why am I always the target? I have countless scars across my body from both dad and Freddy from the beatings I took instead of my sisters. That's what I always get for being the nice guy. The countless times I would get hit with empty alcohol bottles and belts. I never wanted to watch Blair or Audrey take beatings so me being me always took them for them. They never watched dad hit me until the point where I couldn't breathe, because if I ever cried the beatings would last longer.

I was deteriorating. I was deteriorating right in front of my two little sisters, and I didn't want them to see anymore. I ran out of the room hurling towards the bathroom immediately locking the door behind me. The bathroom and Blair's room are the only rooms in the house that actually has a lock. My chest heaved, and silent tears streamed down my face. I reached my breaking point. I was beyond my breaking point, I am broken beyond repair.

Staring at the virtual reflection of myself in the mirror I felt sick to my stomach. Not because of my appearance, but more or less just everything going on. I'm supposed to be the rock for my sisters. I'm supposed to be the one that they can count on, and look at me. I ran away from my problems, and they're left outside of the bathroom door dazed and confused.

I couldn't stand that reflection. I couldn't stand my reflection for the mere reason I look like my father. I hate looking like him, and I'm afraid that maybe in five years or more I'll turn into him. I have no grasp on my life, and the only person who has been keeping me sane all along is Kitty. My blue eyes looked cold in the reflection, and gasping for air my fist hurled into the mirror. Glass shards everywhere. Blood oozing out of my knuckles, and as I picked up one of the many broken glass pieces I stared at my reflection once again.

Disgusting. Absolutely repulsive. My mind went on auto-pilot, and my usual optimistic thoughts were replaced with dark pessimistic thoughts.

You're disgusting.

I couldn't bare it anymore. I couldn't face the music, and the blood running from my hands didn't really bother me. It was the least of my problems. I wanted to have an escape from the constant anxiety. The constant overwhelming feeling that something bad is going to happen, and for once in my life I won't be able to fix it. It's like everything is sliding through my fingers. Kind of like a little kid reaching for that cookie jar, and they're so close they could practically taste the cookie, but at the same time it's so far away from their reach. I'm that little kid, and my life is the cookie jar.

My heart rate felt like it was sky rocketing, and I just wanted everything to stop. My family, the gang, myself, everyone. I can't do this anymore. I try to save all of the broken people around me, but I'm the one that really needs the saving.

"Mommy, please don't go." Blair pleaded.

Her face dropped, and tears welled up in her bright blue eyes as mom left to go to work. 

"It's alright, Bear. Daddy's going to watch after us tonight." I assured her.

She then became quiet, and didn't say anything else for the rest of the night. She is always like this. Once mommy leaves she becomes silent. Well, only when daddy's around. Other than that she talks to Audrey and I. Maybe she knows about how daddy hits me all the time, and she doesn't want to say anything about it. 

"Come on. Let's get you washed up."

"Tibby, do you think I can sleep in your bed tonight?"

"Why?"

"Nevermind."

And with that I helped her upstairs into the bathroom to run her bath. Wednesday nights. The nights mommy goes to her second job early, and comes home late. The nights where daddy watches after the three of us, and if we don't do what he says he gets angry. But, when he tries to beat up Blair or Audrey, I always take their beatings for them. I don't want to watch them get hurt, but daddy doesn't beat me until night time. 

"No," Was all I was able to repeat to myself.

Everything was linking together, and it cut deeper than the glass stuck in my skin.

His breath smelled bad. Kind of like rotten milk, but stronger. He came into my room barely able to walk, and I knew it was time. His belt was already off, and he began whipping me with it. Daddy soon put his belt down, and he instructed me to get on the floor. Then he began kicking me.

"Keith, Keith. Why can't you be like your sisters? Why can't you be more like Blair?" And with that he left my room, leaving me with welts covering my body and bruises sure to come.

He always came from the attic with his belt always off. Which is different from the different times of the day he beat me. At night he always smelled of whiskey, and his pants were always done, coming from the attic. I felt the sick rising in my stomach, and I didn't know how much more I could possibly take. Reaching for one of the glass pieces I knew exactly what I was about to do. I needed a pain outlet, and it seemed perfect. The glass made contact with my arm, and after that I blacked out.

Waking up dazed and confused on the bathroom floor with self inflicted injuries I knew exactly what happened. My past pieced together like pieces of a puzzle, and we were all suffering. Leaving the bathroom I knew nothing would ever be the same. Everything is broken just like the broken mirror in the bathroom. I went into my room to change my sweat and blood stained clothes, and I immediately went up into the attic. I crawled into her bed with her, and we said nothing. We felt bad for each other, and I felt bad for not protecting her all along. I felt disgusting, but I told my mind to shut the fuck up and we just slept. I didn't want to say anything about the anxiety, and everything else. I can't even tell Kitty, and as I shut my eyes I knew everything was broken forever.

Turn It Off

Love. Love, love, love, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. It is nothing more than a concept that some people interpret into a feeling. You can say that you love something simple like I love beer. That isn't deep, but it is a form of love. That used to be my perspective on love. For the past eighteen years I couldn't give less of a fuck about love to say the least. I lived off of boozed one night stands, and that was not love and it never will be love. I never remembered one of the many names, and I suppose that's a blessing in disguise. Then, everyone believes that you should love your parents no matter what. I detest my father ever since the day he left us. No note, no phone calls, no nothing. That gives my whole family to detest the man who fucked everything up. I can't deny that I did once love my father, and I wanted to grow up to be just like him. I wanted to have a family as great as the one we once had. Now, if that man dropped dead today I wouldn't shed a tear. Karma's a bitch.

Is Two-Bit Matthews falling in love? Is this day actually happening?! I dunno. Whenever I look into her teal eyes I melt. I don't see just another pair of plain ol' eyes as I do in everyone else. I can tell whether she is in a good mood or a bad mood just by her eyes. And when she's in a good mood? Her eyes sparkle, and they shine brighter than any other star in the sky. On good days she is a greek goddess, and I think to myself how could someone like me have someone as breath taking as her? Then there are those bad days that most girls have. Those days when she won't take my compliments, and thinks so poorly of herself. She can never see what I see, and what I see is the most gorgeous girl in the world who can never come to realization with her stunning looks with or without makeup.

I don't know if you want to call what we have love. I care for her, but I don't know if I'm in love. Whatever we may have is pretty damn close to it, and although we are not "official" I know that she's mine and I'm hers. As simple as that.

The house was quiet. It has always been quiet, but with the absence of Blair it is now more quiet. I don't know how to describe it, but neither of us know how to deal with this situation. I refuse to talk to my dad about it like Audrey's been doing, but Blair has never been normal. She's always been slightly off, but there was a time when she was full of life. Her eyes always sparkled with excitement, and she gushed about the smallest things. Blair stopped talking maybe a year or two after dad left. At the time no one knew how to deal with it. She was always secluded, and unreadable. All we thought that it was one of her games that she always played. The type of games that only involved herself, and everyone else was just a game piece. Now? Blair is out of control to say the least, and none of us know who that monster has become and what she has done with the sweet innocent child she once was. Her demons are officially eating her from the inside out.

Her head was pressed against my chest, and it's turned into a routine lately. Late nights are usually when she comes. No calls, no texts, but I can always expect to wake up to that beautiful face in the mornings. Maybe that's one of the perks of having what we have. People say communication is key, but the blissful moments of staring into each other's eyes saying absolutely nothing. Yet again, this sounds disgustingly cheesy, but she saved me in more ways than one. And I like to think that I saved her too.

"I don't want to go to school." Kitty whined into my chest.

"I don't want to either. Let's play hooky." I said nonchalantly.

Kitty shook her head at me, pieces of her long dark hair falling into her face. Her tall frame exited the bed, and I immediately gave her a playful pout hating the absence in my bed.

"I almost forgot something." Kitty said deviously, grabbing the bed sheet to wrap around her bare body leaving me cold and pulling me out of the bed.

~~~~
im coming over 2nite we r getting drunk

Cocking an eyebrow as I read Dally's text, I began to think about the young night lying ahead of us. It was merely four in the afternoon, and no one was home. It was just me with an empty fridge of booze, but then the guilt sunk in. I promised Kitty and everyone else around me that I'd lay off on drinking. Then that part of me came in that overpowered every other feeling. Just one beer I promised myself. Then maybe some vodka, that's it. No more.

dont be a pussy

Opening the fridge in front of me I pulled out one Budlight, and grinned to myself. The girls were having a girls night, and that left the guys for a guy night. I mean what was the worst that could possibly happen?

come over and invite the others

Within thirty minutes Dally, Steve, and the others spilled into my confined living room minus all of the Curtis boys. Then the craziness began. Once the bottles were opened, nothing good came out of that night absolutely nothing.

I can't say much about that night, because I don't remember much. Until the girlfriends came in. People were either passed out or they were in that drunken state where they couldn't even form words. It was not pretty, but it was a hell of a party. I can't say the same for the girls, because usually they would be all in for that but it was not the time nor the place. Rhyan and Dally argued for all of a minute before they started making out in the kitchen, and Kitty slowly made her way over to me.

"You promised me..." She began.

Letting out a loud laugh, I pressed a finger to her lips and smiled at her. My drunken actions had caused her to grin, and she forgot all about what happened. Even in my intoxicated state I didn't try anything on her. I don't want her to do anything that she'd forget, because I don't think I'd bear to see a broken Kitty. If she is broken that will break me. I tell the guys that we sleep together, and what not but in the midst reality the most we do is sleep naked together. Nothing more.

The rest of the night was a blur until the sobriety kicked in. Dallas was passed out on the floor with his hand in his pants, and Kitty and I stayed awake watching TV. It was just the three of us in the living room, I assumed the others stumbled back home or were passed out somewhere in the house. Rubbing my tired eyes I looked at the digital clock. 6:30. Holy shit.

That was when the hangover began to sink in, but it was fine. It was more or less a dull headache, because I've grown accustomed to them. Kitty was half awake, her body cuddled into mine. Then the shower turned on, and confusion engulfed my mind. Audrey wouldn't be awake, and the others wouldn't be awake. A figure walked downstairs, and it took me a minute to process what was actually happening. Kitty let out a yawn, and rubbed her beautiful blue eyes.

"SODA WHAT THE FUCK?"

Soda had tried to dart past us, and out the front door. He was buckling his pants buckle, and Blair's bare feet pit patted down the stairs wearing nothing but a towel. I looked at the two of them, and Soda gulped. This was not happening... this was not happening. Soda slept with my kid sister? Why the hell? What about Jelly? Anger flickered in my eyes, and Kitty knew what was going to happen but she did nothing for me to stop it.

"It's not what it looks like."

"What does it look like, Soda? Hm?" Kitty said, getting up from the couch.

"You're sleeping with Two-Bit." Soda blurted.

The two of us couldn't but laugh at his ridiculous accusation and it was only the matter of thirty seconds before I had Soda in a headlock detested by what he had done. Especially to my poor innocent sister in such a vulnerable state of mind.

Once our fight was over he quickly left the house, and Kitty and I went back to where we were on the couch snuggled into each other acting like nothing had happened. 

A Beautiful Reflection From Firework Eyes.

She is so beautiful. Everything about her makes me forget about everything in the universe, and only focus on her. Her beauty is radiating, and makes everyone else in the room jealous. She's not perfect, she's beyond the concept of perfection. Perfection is jealous of her killer looks, and those piercing blue eyes. Perfection goes by the name of KitKat Curtis.

"How are you enjoying our first date?"

Choking on my food, I stared at her. I stared at her intrigued look as she played with her plate full of food. First date? It was the one thing that I had always dreamed of with Kitty. As disgustingly cheesy as that sounds it's true. Me being my secluded self, I never told anyone about my feelings for Kitty. People always think I'm almost as bad as Dallas, when I sleep with girls and what not. But, no matter how many people I slept with, they were not Kitty. And, the worst part of all, I'd never want to sleep with Kitty. She deserves so much more than that, and that's why I detest myself for liking someone so perfect inside and out.

"This is most definitely not a date." I said, with a mouthful of fries.

"Oh."

Getting up from the booth, I grabbed her porcelain hand. "I'll show you what a real date is."

In the empty restaurant in Oklahoma City I put money in the jukebox and chose the cheesiest song I could think of. When A Man Loves A Woman.

Kitty started uncontrollably laughing at my romantic gesture, and I smiled at her not letting anything ruin our dinner between friends that had quickly turned into our first date. The first date I've been looking forward for since I acknowledged her beauty.

Grabbing her tall lean frame I pulled her close to my body, and started dancing to the music. My hands were pressed against her waist, and her face inches away from mine. We danced around the empty diner, and it was just the two of us. Minus the staff at the diner who continuously shot us strange looks, but I didn't care. I never cared for the mere reason, because I was too consumed in the beauty of my best friend's younger sister.

Staring into her eyes I was so engulfed in the moment, I couldn't help it when my lips brushed against hers. And once we started kissing we couldn't stop. My hands exploring her body before she grabbed my hand, and breathed heavily.

"Let's go back to the hotel."

~~~~
I know what you're all thinking. We banged end of story. Actually, we didn't. Me being me, and her being her, we were too immature for the hot and steamy moment we had ended up laughing before we did something stupid. If it was any other girl besides Kitty I would have done it, but yet again I would be drunk out of my wits. And for a girl as radiating as Kitty you have to be sober to remember every single moment.

"Two-Bit, why did you bring me here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why did you choose me to get out of Tulsa with?"

"I like you."

"Yeah, well, I like you too. But that's not the reason why you did that. Tell me, what really happened."

"No."

"Bottling everything in is not healthy, Tibby. Tell me. Do you have any idea what the hell you're doing?"

"That's the thing... I don't know what I'm doing."

"Tibb."

"I'm fine. That's what you want to hear, right? I'm fine."

Kitty stopped talking and leaned her head against my chest. Her dark locks laid on my chest, and I started playing with her long hair tickling my bare chest.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

And eventually exhaustion overcame the both of us, and we slept together. No, not in that way either. We slept together as in, we slept. It was just the two of us lying in bed not naked, but almost. I wasn't drunk, and that's a shocker, I know. But, we slept together like how most people in love should. Her head on my chest, and my arms around her. Nothing but the soft hums of each other's breathing, and that's what love really is. The small things like sleeping in each other's arms enjoying each other's company without saying a single word. These are the moments that don't need a camera, you need a mental camera, and I know when I'm ninety years old I will never forget this night, because that's the night I confessed my love to my future wife whom I plan to grow old with.

A Trophy Father's Son

I don't know why bad things happen to good people. If the crazy fucked up world we live in had some logic then bad things would happen to bad people, and good things would happen to good people. I became accustomed to bad things when my dad walked out on us. I was only ten years old, but I dealt with the pain not how a kid would but how an adult would deal. I was more stable than my mother at the time, and that's saying something. I think we all learned to deal with the unbearable pain and constant emptiness that doesn't go away by itself. When people ask me how I took care of my sisters at a young age I always just shrug my shoulders and cracked jokes, because I don't even know how I was able to pull that off. Mom was always working double shifts, and when she wasn't working she was finding another job to have food in the fridge for three kids and beer in the fridge for her deadbeat of a boyfriend. There's one thing that I never tell anyone not even Kitty. When I stumble in at night so drunk that I can't even make my way upstairs, that's when all of the pain floods. When most people are drunk their mind is blank, but I'm the complete opposite. Most of the empty barren grueling thoughts that take place are usually about my father. Why did he walk out on us? Were we not good enough for him?

8 am. One of the most silent hours in the Mathews household. Everyone is asleep except Blair, she's usually in her room keeping to herself. One of the most shocking things was, wait for it, I was sober because I spent my prior night with no other than Kitty staying up late talking about everything. You don't need alcohol when you can be drunk off someone so lively. Then there was knocking at the door.

"Shit." I muttered, rubbing my tired eyes.

I waited a minute to see if Audrey or Blair would answer the door. Then the quick rasping at the door went again.

"I'm fucking coming." I yelled.

Stumbling out of bed, I mentally cursed the whole way downstairs. I mean really who the fuck is up at this hour? They better have a good reas-

No. Nope. I peered through the peephole mid-thought thinking it would be one of the Greaseheads exuberant for the day ahead, but then I realized no one would be up. My throat closed up, and I could feel my heart rate skyrocketing. He was back. Why?

"Keith."

His voice hadn't changed, and I couldn't bring myself to let him in. We're fine without him, and he can't just waltz in almost ten years later acting as if nothing happened. Bare feet "pit-patted" down the creaky wooden stair case, and Audrey's pale eyes locked in with mine.

"Let him in."

"No."

Audrey elbowed me in the ribs pushing me out of her way to let him inside. It's not his house anymore he can't just do this. He stared at us, and those eyes stared at the two of us. My eyes. God fucking dammit, even after all of these years I still look like him. Audrey and Blair are spitting images of mom, and then there's  me. Without a doubt, I'm his son, and maybe that's why I bitterly hate him despite the damage he's already caused. He stands at 5'10, broad shouldered, slim and lean, gray blue eyes colder than ice, and his brown hair wearing thin turning gray.

No words escaped my mouth. Audrey was hugging him acting as if he was in our lives even after all this time. Like nothing changed. She was babbling away, and I just stared at my bare feet hoping that he could leave at any minute. More than anything I just wanted him to fuck off.

"Two-Bit."

"I don't have anything to say to you." I spat.

Audrey let out an over dramatic sigh, and led the asshole into the kitchen. Audrey and dad were sitting down, and their faces went from cheerful to serious within the span of 30 seconds. I couldn't bear to look him into his eyes, because I know I would have to see those eyes later when I look myself in the mirror. My stomach tied into knots, and I grabbed a beer out of the fridge sitting at the table turning my head away from him.

"It's not good to drink this early," Dad finally said.

"Yeah, like you ever cared. All you ever did was drink in the mornings."

He became silent, and I smiled to myself knowing that shut him up. Audrey shook her head at me, and I shrugged my shoulders and took a sip. Then the conversations began. Audrey went on about how cold and distant Blair's been, and she thought that his presence could change that.

Yeah right. I couldn't listen to this anymore. I couldn't I felt the same familiar feeling building in the pit of my stomach, I couldn't allow myself to cry especially in front of my little sister and my asshole of a father. I promised myself when I was eleven I'd stop wasting tears over someone who would never care.

"So, Tibby what do you think?"

A part of me felt bad for missing 98% of the conversation, but I couldn't give less of a fuck. The questions zoomed around my mind. The questions never answered, and all of them spilled out all at once.

"Where have you been?"

"I-"

"It's been fucking hell the past years."

"Ke-"

"I don't think you understand all the damage you've fucking caused."

He was silent.

"Don't look at me like that. Even when you were my father you weren't home to tuck any of us in at night. I had to lie about my dad, and I still thought that you were the best."

His gaze softened, but he was still listening.

"You don't even care. You never missed us, you were too busy getting drunk and fucking some high class slut. I spent years wondering if you gave a single fuck about us, but it's pretty damn obvious. Why did you walk out on us? Was it something I did? Was it something we did? I don't think you ever understood what it's like for kids to understand to have their father leave them. We never understood this. The last thing we heard was you were leaving for work, and then two months later we heard from mom that you're off on the east side with a new everything."

Audrey's eyes welled up with tears, and I saw Blair poke her head into the kitchen. Always so silent, enjoying living in the shadows.

"I want answers. I want you to tell me why you left us. You ran away from your problems. You're a coward. So tell me, I'd love to know, really. I spent years wondering why my own dad would leave us. You were my hero, but now I could care less if you dropped dead. Frankly I'd love it if you dropped dead, I wouldn't care less."

"Two-Bit!" Audrey cried.

"Do you think this is a family? Is this what you call a family? I just want to know." I breathed, and I wanted to feel guilty for all of the harsh words I spat at him, but I didn't regret anything. I spent years and years wanting to ask him this, and I finally did.

The room was now silent.

"I could fix this."

"Like hell you can."
****************************************************
"Oh god." Kitty repeated over and over again into the phone receiver.

I know she was speechless, but I had to tell someone what happened.

"What do you say about getting out of here? I'll pick ya up. We can get out of Tulsa, just for the night."

"Pick me up in ten."

Patient, Kind, Balanced, and Fine.

Everything was so simple when you're a kid. All that mattered was what time Mickey Mouse was on (now that I think about it nothing has changed... for me at least). But, when you're a kid all of the bad in the world can't touch you, because in a way it is invincible or plain old ignorance. Everyone deserves to be at that stage again, and out of everyone I can think of it has to be Blair. Some days, I miss the talkative energetic Blair that was full of smiles and laughter, just like any other Mathews child. Audrey and I were so close in age that we were almost identical, and people mistook us as twins. Blair was different. When she was ten years old she just stopped talking. No one knew why, but she just stopped talking. And to this day nothing has changed.

"We were this close to fucking."
"You're gross."
"Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me."

We were all hanging out at DX bothering Soda and Steve in their natural habitat, and to no surprise Dally was telling everyone his adventures of which girl he had fucked over the weekend, and Bre was being Bre. She was constantly commenting on his pig like personality while everyone mentally raised their glass at him. Good for him. None of us could say that out loud without any of the girls smacking us.

"Two-Bit are you okay?"
"You seem kinda out of it."

Concerned voices rang all around me, my eyes fixated on the near distance beyond Tulsa.

"I, yeah of course. When is there a party?"

Everyone cocked an eyebrow at me in confusion, and Kitty placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Tibby?"

I nodded. It felt like I was on another planet. My body was with the gang, but my heart and soul were so far away. They were beyond this gas station, beyond Tulsa, and I wasn't myself. I wasn't worried about the girl haunting my dreams at night, the girl that made me go soft and I can't even talk about her without smiling like an idiot. This time was different. My mind was concerned about two of the most important girls in my life. My sisters.

"Hey, I'm gong to head home. I got a six pack with my name on it."

Everyone had the same chorused response of "bye Two-Bit". Getting into my old beat up Ford I went back to my house, because the worried pit in my stomach made me feel physically sick.

Walking in through the front door I balled my fists. Memories flooded my brain. One in particular. When Freddy took his anger out on Blair when Audrey was at school and mom was at work. Her eye was swollen shut, and that was the last time I let her be alone with that monster. And then it hit me.

Did she stop talking because of that? Our parents splitting up? Or maybe it was just the simplest thing that I myself have not noticed in ten years.

She did it for power and control. The type of control that an alcoholic gets when they will themselves to only one drink and end up passed out behind a dumpster. Then the power that someone gets of not eating for a certain amount of time or harming themselves in anyway just because of the endorphins the brain releases.

All of us have been too ignorant to ask her why she never talks, but no one has cared enough to do anything about it. She was sitting in the kitchen her cold eyes fixed on an old photograph.

"Blair?"

No answer.

"Enough with the dark shit, okay? Blair, stop for the love of god. You're worrying all of us sick."

Then she smiled that unreadable Blair smile that simply says that "you don't know me and you never will".

With Ears to See and Eyes to Hear

There's things that you wish you can have control of so everyone can be happy. I think everyone probably feels this way, y'know besides Socs because I'm pretty sure they have a stick up their ass 99% of the time. But, at least I feel this way. Whenever someone in the gang is down I feel like it's my job to make them laugh or at least crack a smile. There's something about making people's days better that are better than beer, sex, or even money. At the end of the day when the bottles are empty and when the value of a dollar doesn't matter, all I have is the gang. We're stronger than any family, because we pick each other up when we're down, and we've been through it all. No matter what obstacles we may face, we have each other and that's all that matters. Except beer. Beer always matters.

It was another Saturday morning, and in translation. Sleeping off another hangover. Recovering from a typical wild Friday night out with the boys including Kitty. For awhile Blair and Audrey would be concerned that I'd drink myself to death or somethin' but they soon realized it makes me who I am. When Blair was just eleven she would be concerned about me. I would spend night after night not bothering for sobriety. At the time it was so far fetched, but when her tiny hand wrapped around mind begging for me to cool it down, I listened. If it was anyone else like Steve or Dally, I wouldn't care. I couldn't give less of a fuck if it were anyone but that little girl. It's not like I don't go near the stuff like Soda, but I laid off for awhile and sooner rather than later I was pulled back into my old habits.

"HEY!" An over excited Audrey screeched from the kitchen.

Letting out a throaty groan that pulled me out of my blissful sleep I was awake. Unfortunately, I was awake. The most cruelest of punishments one can endure while dealing with a pounding hangover. The most brutal of hangovers I've ever had, because Dally thought he could beat me at beer pong. (I won). The comfort of the mattress only added to the reasons of why I did not want to get up. There are plenty of things to dream about like food, sex, blondes, girls, y'know all of the things that complete me.

Then the door swung open. Fuck, react quick. All I was able to do in that state of panic was to roll over on to my uneasy feeling stomach bracing myself for whoever was barging into my room.

"Two-Bit." Her voice was sweet. I could recognize that almost anywhere.

"I'm sleeping." I mumbled, burying my face into my pillow.

"No you're noooooot." Her voice was sing song like and I couldn't help but crack a smile.

Her body climbed inside my bed ruffling my hair. I flipped onto my stomach and stared her down. "You suck."

"I know."

"So, are you planning on sleeping off your hangover?"

"I was planning on getting drunk again."

"Or you could do something with me."

Her pastel blue eyes locked with mine almost in a pleading way. For the blissful moment I could see the specks of green and the darker shades of blue in her orbs. I don't blame her for not wanting to sit around with Blair and Audrey. When the real life of the party is just upstairs.

Doing my famous "Two-Bit Mathews" eyebrow cock her face lit up. "So, where are you gonna take me?"

"Anywhere and everywhere."

And we were off to a fun filled day of no other than Two-Bit Mathews and the famous Ms. KitKat Curtis. 

after the storm

There's those moments where you wish you can capture it in a camera, because you don't want it to leave. You just want it to stay with you so one day when you get old or somethin' you can just look back on the moments that once made you smile. And then there are the most graphic of memories that you can't forget no matter how hard you try. It's not impossible, but it's pretty damn near impossible.

One memory in particular. When dad walked out on the three of us.

Even though I was just a kid I could remember it as if it was yesterday. That is yesterday before good ol' Stevie and I got properly trashed. The day started like any other day. I was six at the time, Blair was three, and Audrey was five. Like any other kid, my dad was my hero besides Mickey Mouse of course. I wanted to be like my dad when I grew up. I wanted to have a stable home for a wife and kids, and I wanted to keep that grin on my face no matter what. Dad wasn't a man of emotion, and mom was. She was always smiling and laughing while dad was just.... I dunno dad was just there. He never failed to impress me. He was the man who got me into Mickey Mouse, so I guess I gotta give him some props. The morning dad walked out on us is the only memory that I can remember so vividly. I can recall everything that morning from what mom was cookin' to dad's license plate veering out the driveway when I thought he was just going to work and come back at 7 to ask us how our days went.

Except he gave mom a kiss on her cheek, and I knew something was up when he hugged the three of us and wouldn't let go until Audrey protested "Daddy I can't breathe!" Looking back now, I know I don't want to be anything like my dad. I don't want to be like the man who was once my hero, because my hero was a coward. He cheated on my mother, and walked out on his three kids. I don't want to be anything like that, because he left everything on my mom's shoulder. She couldn't handle it anymore, and even back then I knew she was a ticking time bomb,

I knew it was up to me to be the new dad. I was only six when I stepped up to the plate in taking care of my two little sisters. Audrey was a mess, because  she knew he was never coming back, and Blair wasn't nearly as effected as the two of us. She carried on, and I guess ignorance is bliss. Mom was out late working two jobs, just enough to put food on the table for three young kids. Even at the time my soft spot for my family came in handy when I  looked for dad all over Tulsa. I prayed that he would just come home, but he never did.

It's kinda crazy to think about how the supposed man of the house can just walk out on his own family, and upgrade for a new one. I never thought that it was us that were in the wrong, but mom took everything on herself. He traded in our lively beautiful mother for some trashy looking Soc. I felt bad for her. Her warm brown eyes lost the old sparkle, and soon enough she went after men who treated her like garbage. Night after night she came home with a new catch, and Blair would get her hopes up thinking that he can be our new "daddy". Except, the men who she went after were mostly alcoholics in search of a lay, like any other man. But, when mom would not give it up they would take their anger out on her. I would hear her screams late at night, and my two sisters came into my room feeling the security of their older brother.

I don't think of myself as mature. Fuck, I'm still a kid myself. I haven't matured, but I've moved on. I've moved on from looking out the window everyday waiting for him to come home. All he was, was a coward and in my eyes that's all he'll ever be. It's sad to think about that I was better of a dad then he was, and as Kitty says I have the mind of a twelve year old.

Nothing makes sense in our house, but hell nothing ever makes sense in our gang. As I've told Blair and Audrey, they shouldn't hold onto the past, because there's more to come. And you know what they did? They messed up my hair, and told me how much of a girl I am. I need to let go of the memories that are like a dark gloomy cloud constantly hovering over your head. I need to focus on the memories that make me smile. The memories of all the shit and giggles that happen in our house, but more importantly in our little improved family that I like to call our gang.