The Tattooed Flower

4. Get Out You Killed Him

Caleb's friend picked up Taz. I miss him. I couldn't say goodbye. I don't have the heart. I'm dressed now, sitting at one of the lonely stools pressed against the island in the kitchen.

Caleb also purchased cereal. Rather unhealthy cereal at that. So I sat there, dripping pink, fruity liquid that had been normal, Trix infested milk.
Caleb is in the living room, the red couch. I wish he'd say something. Just for the record, silence is far worse than screaming. Silence is deafening. And to make matters worse, I was beginning to annoy myself with the a obnoxious dripping of my pink milk.

I set the spoon down and picked up the bowl and sipped milk with my lips. Unfortunately due to my undying gracefulness, I spilt."Dammit!" At that Caleb turned around, his expression registering my newly wet t-shirt. I see him try to withhold laughter. Goddamn he's sexy... His eyes alight by amusement of my clumsiness. It's almost hard to be mad. Almost...

"No!" I point and accusatory finger at him, "don't you dare laugh at me Caleb... Caleb... Caleb Something." His mouth opens into a wide toothy grin and it takes all my strength not to laugh with him. He chuckles.

"Wow that was brutal. I think it stung more, by the fact that you don't know the rest of my name."

"Only because you never told me!"

"You never asked." He stands and walks to get me a wet rag. He steps towards me slowly. I suddenly I feel a hot tension, fiery. I don't move as he approaches me. I don't laugh or smile. Something enters his expression, something far more confusing than anything I've seen before. He's looking at me like he wants me. Like I'm not this horrible monster I feel like I am.

He glances up and our eyes meet. Dark black pools that I find my face reflected in. He looks down to my shirt and steps closer, rubbing at the dark wet patches of my shirt steering clear of the breast-area.

His eyes are trained on the task at hand but eventually I catch his eyes with mine. They are the glittering dead coals of an old fire. The rag still in his hand, he leans forward, his empty hand grazing my cheek. His face is mere inches away. Our eyes are locked, those pink lips parted in wait for mine. I close my eyes and feel his nose press against mine.

I let out a shaky breath, my hands clutching the stool for fear that my balance will fail me. He leans close to my ear. "Tell me." He whispers.

"I can't." I push him away so quickly my head spins, and run to the bathroom for refuge.

"Quinn! Quinn c'mon. Let me in." I stand from the corner I'd huddled into and open the door just a crack.

Caleb looks at me with curious eyes and I open the door wider. "This doesn't go away, Quinn."

"I know." I whisper. "But I can't tell you yet."

He stalks off away from me to his room. I hear something crash and I try not to wonder what it is.

Caleb turns away and walks off to his room. I sit back down and swear I here something crash, again. Stupid. God! I am so stupid. I run my hand through still damp hair. Calm down. Calm down whoever you are.

I breathe deeply and try to control my rapid beating heart. The room is spinning, and the more I try to breathe the harder it becomes. It hurts. Breathing hurts. I sit back and hold my knees to chest. I see scabs on my feet, red, angry scabs where there should be pale flesh.

My fingers peel at a scab on my foot and once the angry little cover is revealed a little red pool spills over my skin. Red...

My mom is sitting on the floor, dad dead and bleeding at her side. Mom?"What are you doing here?!" I scream, my voice cracking. There's blood all over the floor pooling every where, staining the pale white carpet.