T h e m

C h a p t e r 1 3

Her medicine
Tw: mentions of trauma + panic attack

A l e s s i a s P o v:
Sandro had been avoiding me since this morning, he's been hibernating in his room. Adrian comes home late at night, and leaves early in the mornings. That leaves Marco alone in the kitchen.

I woke up from my nap to the smell of burning, but this time, the smell actually met our room, which only means Marco fucked up big time. I'm surprised the girls haven't woken up because of the smell, that shit was making me cough. I made my way downstairs, the smoke gradually getting worse. After it felt like years I turned the corner, Marco was holding a pan, that pan that was on fire. He was pacing up and down, staring hesitantly at his outstretched arms.

"Just turn the tap on and put it in the sink." I yelled over the music, his music taste being.. questionable.

"Its oil, IF I PUT WATER ON IT THE FIRE WILL ONLY GET BIGGER." He screamed back, I'm generally shocked that he knows that, he probably learnt that from experience.

What's on your mind?" I asked.

He signed and closed his eyes, " I was just thinking about how big my di-

Stop. Not the time

"THEN TAKE IT OUTSIDE MR KNOW IT ALL."

His eyes widened like I had just said the smartest thing in the world. With one hand he held the pan, stretching his arm out as far as he could, the other slid the backdoor open. The guards looked alarmed but once they saw it was Marco, they lightly shook their heads, clearly holding in a chuckle.

They didn't even seem surprised, I'm guessing this is how he burnt down his last house.. and his last kitchen. Like a frisbee he threw it into the pool, we watched as it hit the water and more smoke than before polluted the air.

Completely unamused, I stared at Marco, who was glancing around the garden avoiding eye contact, "Wanna explain?" I taunted.

"Nope.." he said, popping the 'pe'. I rolled my eyes and started walking past him, nudging him a little. I heard a yelp and a massive splash, and with that I was satisfied.

I gazed around, taking in Marcos massive garden, he always said he wanted one, back at home that was always our safe place, he would ramble on about how when he gets his own house, the garden would be built first. I walked past the flowers I've never seen - most likely illegal - and the perfectly grown fruits.

I always used to sneak of to the fields when I lived with parents, whenever I needed a breather, or a break, six year old me would go to the back garden, climb over the battered fence and make my way towards the field. It wasn't far from where me and Marco lived.

It was a 10 minute walk, we didn't live in the safest neighbourhood so it was fairly dangerous, especially for a young girl, but it was always worth the thrill, it was worth the goosebumps that I would get when walking past the rowdy, drunk men. If I'm being completely truthful, I was certain that the deserted field was safer than my 'home'.

It's ironic really because I hate bugs, I hate everything about them, how they look, what they do, how they feel against my skin. Yet I still felt most at peace at the fields. I had gone there so many times that I had created my own path.

Walking through fields will always be my medicine. Whenever I had a headache, I would go to the fields, since my parents didn't care enough to give me any pain killers. On my seventh birthday, after the whole shit show, I snuck of to the fields. The fields was always my go to.

So that's why when I opened the gate, positioned at the back of Marcos garden, a real smile spread across my face. Infront of me laid a sheet of perfectly cut grass. Trees surrounded it and some of the most rarest flowers stood tall. I was amazed. I couldn't see the end of the field, it looked as if it kept on going on and on. There is no end as far as I knew.