ʍoɹplǝss, ᵇⁱˡˡⁱᵉ ᵉⁱˡⁱˢʰ

005: Cruel

We— but more specifically she since I was forced to go along— decided to take a detour while on our trek to my house. Billie leaped over heaps of trash, benches, and puddles without a second thought. Meanwhile, I evaded said obstacles with 'normal' methods; simply by walking around them. After a few nudges and pretty pleases, Billie ultimately divulged where she was taking us.

"A hill," she stated simply.

"A hill?" I asked while trying to ignore distant rolls of thunder.

"A hill. And it'll be fun. . . well, I hope it will." Billie twirled around on one foot, flung her arms in the air like a ballerina. Another rumble of thunder crawled up and down my spine.
"Looks like it's gonna rain," said she. "Do you mind if it rains?" Billie skipped in front of me, prompting me to halt. I glanced up at the grayish sky, then back at Billie. Her eyes so pale under the bleakness that someone could mistake them for pearls.

"I. . ." I found a lump in my throat that fought hard against being dislodged. The idea of arriving home completely drenched didn't sound appealing in any way, especially since my mother would possibly be there to witness it. "I don't know."

"Aw, man. I guess we can do this some other time, then. Either way, your clothes were probably going to get dirty, too."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you next time. For now, let's get you home before it pours." Billie began to trot backwards with her hands sunken into her pockets. "Come on. Lead the way, Ambrose!"

I small grin sprouted from my teeth. "Wait for me, then." With that, I began to run after her— it became a race.

—

I had won by a hair.

Once we arrived at the front steps of my humble abode, our chests heaving and raindrop-dotted clothes, Billie hurrahed with a fist in the air. I jolted at her sudden cheer, then punched her shoulder softly.

"Stop doing that without warning! You scared the crap out of me," I said. Billie only chuckled in response. My arms coiled over my abdomen as a chilled breeze danced past our bodies and my fingers clung to the fabric of my school blazer. Billie seemed almost unaffected by the wintry gust, though.

I stayed too long with her. I should have bid Billie a goodbye and gone inside the minute we arrived. A car with a familiar rumble of its engine pulled into the driveway.
She's early.

I acted fast. "Billie, thank you for walking me home. You can go now," I told her. Billie quirked her brow at me, then attempted to point at the car, but I grasped her arm firmly in my fist.
"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Is that your mom?"

"Yes. I'll see you tomorrow." I could feel my mother's stare on me. "Thank you again."

Billie eyed me up and down, then stole a subtle glance at my mother. "You're not going to get in trouble or anything, right?"

"No, I promise. I'll see you tomorrow," I repeated.
Promises aren't my forte, Billie.
She nodded hesitantly and walked away, only glancing back at me once before she was out of sight. My gaze took a chance toward my mother, who stood with her palm flat against the hood of her car and the other on her hip.

I turned away from her and jogged up the steps. Her glare never gravitated off of me.

—

"Who was that girl and why were you late?" asked my mother as soon as I stepped into the living room. About two hours had passed— I had decided to avoid her for that long. She was never the type to actually look for me when she wanted to have a conversation. Rather she'd wait for me to appear before her to initiate anything.

I wasn't late, technically. You were early.
"She's a friend. And I was late because. . ." My thoughts scoured for a lie desperately. "I was finishing an assignment."

"Hm. And where's your bike?"

Of course she noticed.
"I lent it to another student who had theirs stolen. They'll be giving it back to me tomorrow."
Not the best lie, but it'll have to do.

"I told you I don't want you giving anything of yours away to other people."

"I apologize," I answered immediately, though, sounding slightly curt. My fists tightened as I awaited her outrage for the almost unnoticeable attitude in my tone, but she merely hummed again and kept her eyes on her phone. A compressed breath of relaxation exited my chest. I took her silence as my token to leave.

—

The night came rolling down like a tidal wave. The stars giggled and pointed at me, I could tell. They were trying to mock me, I could tell. They were trying to remind me of what they could do and what would never be able to do, I could tell. Shine brightly and be admired by how they tried so hard to beam down on humans every blank night.

"You're so mean with me, Stars," I muttered with my forearm planted over my eyes. The wet roof against my clothed back sunk a feeling of numbness through my bones. I could not, and would not, get up. Not unless the stars told me to do so, but they were too busy making fun of me. Pointing their pretty, brilliant spears at my heart.

"Kill me, will you? . . . "
No.
I lurched forward, immediately pressing my knees against my chest. Water glued my shirt to the skin on my back. "Stop saying shit like that, Ambrose. Control yourself for once." My eyes shot up at the stars, who seemed to have gone quiet. Only in the far distances could I still hear their giggles.

Jaw clenched, I laid back down. Finger over the skin of my abdomen, circle after circle I drew.

Then a knight appeared again. This time my mother was behind that clunky metal helmet. She wore her same dull expression that was practically cemented on, never to be removed.

"It's your fault, you know," she said. "You're the reason I will never be the same. Never will you see me smile like I used to."

"It's not my fault, mother. You know that. Please stop saying it is." The numbness spiraled in my skull as the words spilled. A raindrop splashed on my forehead, then dripped past my temple.

"You're nothing but cruel with me."

"I'm not cruel."

"Yes, you are."

"Be quiet."

"You make no attempts to make me happy."

"You are utterly impossible to please. What do you expect me to do?"

"Try. Try like your sister would–" As soon as the word unleashed past the figment of imagination that is my mother before me, I slapped my forehead. The fabrication of her disappeared within the second. Moments passed and I could only find myself breathing shallowly. Then a sob pumped out from behind the lump that had tightened my throat.

"I am cruel, aren't I. . ."

A/N: I love the stars