Made to be Broken

"Are you serious?" My eyes bore into his. "Are you serious?!" My voice rings an octave higher, but he doesn't even seem to notice. He just runs a hand through his hair and looks at the ground.

I take a step closer. "You can't just leave me here!"

"There's no room in the car," he mumbles.

My mouth is hanging open like Frey's fish's. I'm at a loss for words, my anger past the point of comprehension.

"Bye Camille," he says and starts backing away into the darkness.

"No!" I shriek, running after him. I try to grab him, but he just pushes my arms away. When I try again, he pushes me to the ground. I lie there and my eyes water as I feel a sharp pain in my arm. When I look back up, he's gone.

I wait a minute seeing if he'll come back, but I already know he won't. I pull out my shitty phone and literally thank God that I have some reception. I dial the much too familiar number.

Ring

Riiiing

"Hello?"

"Mark," I mutter, relieved. "I need your help."

**********************************************************

The car's complete silence is unsettling. I fiddle with my phone buttons and stare out the window into the darkness. My hand subconsciously reaches for one of the cigarettes in my pocket.

"No."

I look at him. He's staring straight forward at the empty road. "Please?" I ask meekly.

"Not in my car," he replies.

That infuriates me. "You smoke in your car all the time! Besides, you know that's exactly what I need..."

He cuts me off. "That is exactly what you don't need." His voice is harsh. I decide it's probably better to stay quiet, but I continue to look at him.

I study this man. Mark. My brother. His hair was white-blond when he was a kid, but now it has dulled. I always had the feeling that Mark could've been something great. A doctor or a lawyer or something. If only he didn't have his rage, his resentment. If only if he didn't have any reason to feel that way.

"How's Sandra doing?" I ask, trying to make small talk by referring to his most recent girlfriend. I lean back and close my eyes.

His voice is void of any emotion. "We broke up."

My eyes snap open, and I turn my head to look at him. "What?!"

He changes the subject. "Camille Rose Tracey, do you realize how much trouble you're in? You probably broke your arm or something. I'll have to take you to the hospital, and no one has money for that! What were you even doing there?!"

"Cade asked if I wanted to hang out, so I said yes," I reply simply.

I can hear the impatience in his voice. "You need to stop being so irresponsible! Melody's at home. Alone."

I feel a pang of guilt, but still I protest. "She's not alone."

He laughs without any humor. "Yeah, she'd be better off alone...She's only ten Camille!"

"Exactly," I argue, "by ten no one was babying me anymore." But I don't mean a word of it. Melody is off-limits.

"We're here," Mark says. The truck door groans as I open it.

"Thanks," I whisper quietly. I doubt he even heard it.

I shut the car door and begin to head up the walkway to the front door. I hear the car speed off behind me, but I don't even turn to look. I just continue up the broken stone path through the grass that desperately needs tending and past Pikachu's grave, until I reach the front door. I put my hand on the knob and slowly turn it. I opened the door cautiously, looking inside.