"Tyler, could you get the suitcases please?
"Where are they?"
Tyler poked his head through his doorway and shouted across the house to his mother. School had ended two days ago, and tomorrow, him, his twin sister Beatrice, and their parents were hopping on a plane to their summer cabin in Cornwall. Although this region of Great Britain was usually pelted with rain, he felt an unexplainable draw towards the cabin.
"Um, I don't know honey, maybe check the attic?" His mom replied through the wall while pattering in her room.
Tyler rolled his eyes. At least he wasn't the only one in his family who left everything to the last second.
His family was what you would describe as "artsy". His dad was a global warming activist, his mom an art teacher at his high school, and his sister, Beatrice, was a concert pianist.
Totally and completely artsy.
Recently his father was promoted and chosed to give speeches and talks in New York, so this was their last year in Great Britain. Wrapping up the summer in Cornwall, the Lyons were flying to the big apple. Beatrice was ecstatic as there were so many musical opportunities in America.
Tyler was less excited; he would be leaving all his friends, but his mom convinced him that every summer will still be spent up in Cornwall.
He could manage with that.
If anything, Tyler needed to spend as much time as he could there. He felt helpless when he even imagined someone giving away their life.
Shaking his head, he pushed a chair up against the wall, and stood on it, pushing the latch up. Coughing slightly, he reached around until he found the rope ladder that was built into the floor. He pulled himself up and scrutinized his eyes in the hazy light, spying 4 large suitcases against the wall. How was he going to get them down from the attic? Throw them?
"Mom, can you help me?"
"Ask your sister, I'm busy!"
He groaned. "She can't even hear me!"
His sister was in her "concert hall", a room stacked from floor to ceiling with piano sheets and music books, with an 8-foot grand piano in the middle. Currently, her fingers where banging out a loud Schumann étude.
"Ask your dad then."
"He's in his lab!"
The lab was his father's haven. He conducted many science experiments in there, and hated being interrupted.
Both of them were in their own little world.
His mom appeared below him. "Hurry up Tyler, what do you need help for?"
Tyler grinned. His mom was one of the most understanding people he has ever met. If someone was doing something important, like his father or Beatrice was right now, she hated interrupting them. "Mom, how good are you with catching the suitcases I throw down?"
««»»
Jenn woke up wet and coughing. Her dad stood above her with an glass of water which was emptied on her head.
"Hurry your ass up Jenn, we have a plane to catch today."
"Good morning to you too, Father." Jenn spit out the last word as maliciously as she could, before the words processed in her head. "Wait, what plane?"
His father smirked. "I have a job, despite what you think. You may have your fun little summer vacay, but I do need to support us, you know."
"Let me guess," Jenn muttered, "That bastard of a drug lord offered you a mountain of cash if you do his bidding, which you will then spend on beer and-"
Her head snapped to the right, her cheek tingling.
"Watch your language! I don't want you to fuck with me while I'm working."
Jenn snorted. "Then leave me here! You go do your business by yourself."
"No can do, sweetheart. You know I need your help for things."
Oh, she knew alright.
Her dad smirked. "Unless, of course, you want to go back to Jim."
To that, Jenn hastily shook her head. He had her at a stalemate.
Her own father was threatening her.
"Leave." Jenn said, icily. "Let me get dressed."
Her dad's smirk grew wider.
««»»
It had been barely an hour since they've arrived in Cornwall, Great Britain, and Beatrice was already pounding away on the electic keyboard, playing some hotshot Beethoven piece.
Tyler shook his head. Only his sister could get a good sound out of the musty keyboard.
Deciding to explore the rock wall, he grabbed his gum boots out of his suitcase.
The terrain was slippery and muddy, just like Tyler remembered. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he started walking along the worn-out path.
««»»
Jenn hated it here.
She hated it.
She had only arrived yesterday, and it was hell getting from the airport to St. Ives. They were travelling in a dusty van through a thunderstorm that only just cleared up this morning. It was terrible, the rain was pelting down like ice shards, and even with the sun out, it was still cold in the house.
I hate this so much, Jenn thought.
But she would rather sit through Hurricane Katrina in a van with her dad than go back to Jim.
Jim and Sandy and Graciella and Vanessa.
Jenn cringed just remembering their names. There were too many harsh memories that was associated with them.
She just wanted to forget.
"Jenn, I need you to pick up a few things in the grocery." Her dad walked into the room, throwing her a crumpled up piece of paper. "Hopefully, you can read the words."
"I can read, Dad." Jenn muttered.
"At least you can help with something then," he sneered back.
Throwing on her windbreaker, she grabbed the piece of paper and stayed clear away from her father, not daring to shove past him. At least he wasn't drunk, otherwise she would never win. She could never win against him. That was rule number one when it came to living with her oh-so-loving father.
Never touch him.
««»»
Tyler's stomach grumbled. It had been a long day; altough they woke up early, they still had to run to catch their plane on time.
He was just about to turn back and walk towards his house, when he heard a door creak open, and his eyes drifted towards the sound.
He was gazing at the saddest pair of eyes he had ever seen.
Now, he had seen miserable before. His family had rescued many people, most of them teens who thought that the only way to be saved was to kill themselves. He heard of a few peers at school self-harming, and a few peers who had eating disorders. He heard one too many tragic stories revolving around bullying.
But never had he seen such beautiful, but dark, sad eyes.
He immediately felt the need to help her, the urge to make her smile, the urge to save her.
He could only pray that she wouldn't jump off the Cornwall cliffs.
