Divine of Death

2

Fathers

2

"Father," she tried the words on her lips again. "It is an odd word to say." She hummed before gulping the last of the wine in her glass. Without a word, she stood from the table to retrieve the bottle from the counter behind her.

With a sigh, she removed the bottle from her lips. "This food is taking forever!" She laughed while hopping up on the countertop with a plop.

"Sybil," Paige began, "perhaps we should ask your guest to return another night?"

Sybil's eyes remained on the bottle in hand before glancing to the ceiling, "perhaps," she sighed sliding off the countertop. She began to make her way out of the room before glancing over her shoulder at the one introduced as a son.

"Come." She smiled at him before sauntering her way to the stairs and quickly climbing them.

She could hear the man follow her up the stairs in confusion and left her bedroom door open as an invitation to come in once he had caught up to her frame.

"Jason, darling I hate to not have another night with you, but it seems some family business has occurred that must be attended to." She smiled at the fully dressed man that sat at the edge of her messy bed. With a quick skip she placed a kiss on his lips so chaste and quick it left nothing up to discussion.

"I understand." Jason nodded before standing up, "Can I take you out on Saturday? We could have dinner and drinks in town?" His eyes were so hopeful and focused on the enigma before him that he hadn't noticed the young man that leaned in the doorway of the bedroom watching the exchange.

Sybil smiled sweetly at her old classmate, "We'll see." She winked at him before he nodded at the mention of being in touch and left the bedroom.

Sybil walked to the white door beside the one to her ensuite and slipped inside without a word to her so-called brother, Eliot West.

Eliot stayed glued to the wall next to the exit of the room as his eyes took in the disheveled sheets on the bed, the white powder on the coffee table, and the half-empty cup of what his enhanced smell could pick up were more likely to be vodka than acetone. He felt pain for his sister knowing that she was grieving the loss of her mother and hoped that soon he would get to know the real her and not this hyper shell of a woman.

Sybil returned from the door she had disappeared in wearing denim shorts and a white t-shirt with a smile on her face. She made her way to the coffee table retrieving the glass and palming it in her hand.

With a large breath, she gulped the liquid before releasing the air from her lips in a hiss. She sat on the beige loveseat that faced the man leaning against her wall and lifted her foot to motion to the seat opposite of her.

"So," she began as he made his way to the sofa, "I suppose this makes us siblings?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm twenty!" Eliot blurted out not knowing what else to say. She smiled at him with closed lips before nodding.

"My mother despised pets," she laughed, "I would've loved to have a little brother as one." She eyed him quietly, "had I known you existed," she whispered softly.

"I would've liked a sister growing up." Eliot's words stumbled out. It was rare that he didn't know what to say. His friends and parents would think he was coming down with some illness if they saw him like this, stumbling around with his words.

"If you've come for the funeral there won't be one." Sybil leaned her head against the back of the loveseat. "Wasn't much left to bury." She laughed at her own dark joke. Eliot played with his hands still unknowing of what to say to the woman he was nearly an hour ago so excited to meet he was practically bouncing in his seat.