Renegade-N.H-

It Started With a Whisper

It Started With a Whisper;

The darkness set in around the house as the day went on, quiet-almost too quiet. I rise up getting off the couch grabbing the remote, dvd case and turn the TV on for myself. It instantly fills the silence and calms my nerves a little bit. I toss on the avengers, sinking back into the couch to relax as best as possible.

The phone buzzes beside me as my brother calls for the third time that night. He had promised to be home today, but when he called telling me that he was just going to catch a few hours of sleep in the truck and work more-well, I got mad.

As usual we blew up, freaked out, I hung up on him and now he was scrambling to call me back, to get an answer from me. I just didn't care, looking down at my screen I flip it back over and turn the TV up a bit. A bang on the door makes me jump and drop the remote to the floor suddenly.

Fucking christ, I think to myself pulling my sore, tired body off the couch and towards the front door. I look to the left of the door to double check that dad's old shot gun was still rested up against the frame. It had been there for years, no one had ever had a reason to use it. I wasn't even sure if it was loaded but it felt like safety, so I had kept it there even after he died.

Pulling the door open slowly I hold back my sigh as I see Declan standing on my front step, wet from the light rain outside and holding a bag of food. His smile is cheeky, his eyes are dark and it leaves goosebumps on my skin.

"Ya looked terrible leavin' school t'day, I just wanted to make sure you ate somethin'."

He holds out the bag from the diner as a peace offering and I step aside letting him come in from the porch. He shrugs off the wet leather, handing me the bag gently he lays it over the chair and kicks off his heavy boots. Walking across the floor in his socks he sits at the coffee table and pulls the food from the bag.

He shrugs off his heavy leather and tosses it on the floor beside him, looking at him now. He was so soft, his jaw, eyes and hair made him look younger than he should have. Kinder, than most people you spoke too in this town.

"I love this movie," he laughs to himself handing me a foil package that has a grilled cheese inside. "She said that was your favorite-bacon and all."

"Ruth always remembers," I say to him unwrapping it and taking a bite of the cheesy goodness that he had brought over, uninvited. Sadly I was glad he came anyways I was starving, lacking any energy to actually cook anything proper.

"Thank you," I say quietly watching his every move as he shifts his position on the floor. He smiles at me again, the scar on his face so clear and deep that it makes me wonder what happened every time I look at him.

"I got hit by a car when I was nine," he says looking at me, "Glass got stuck in my face, fifty seven stitches."

"I didn't mean to stare," I say, completely embarrassed that I had put him on the spot. He slides closer to me and grabs my hand, I give it to him rather uneasy about his touch. He lifts my hand slowly and presses it to the side of his face, letting it trace the scar along the jawline and up to the base of his eye.