Three days and twelve hours before shooting
Frankie sat crossed legged in the bedroom he shared with Clark when I poked my head out of my bedroom a little after midnight. It was hard not to hear the shouting match they'd spent the last hour and a half torturing me with. Though Frankie tried to keep his voice lowered, even he had raised it a few times to try and calm Clark.
Frankie was in the middle of his bed, black bedding a disheveled mess around him, eyes trained on something ahead of him. For a second I thought it may be a poster or possibly his laptop on the dresser opposite him. As soon as I edged closer, pressing myself into the door frame, I caught sight of Clark in front of him. He was crying. Not the silent kind that tore you apart inside not breaking the surface, but full body trembling and blotchy, tear-stained cheeks crying. His right eye was nearly swollen shut as my boyfriend's had been, the bridge of his nose so swollen that I could almost feel it throbbing from where I stood like a fly on the wall leaning against the door frame.
"Clark." Frankie's voice was as composed as usual, but there was an edge to it I hadn't heard before. "Think about what you're saying."
Clark, a mess of anger, tears, and pain, lashed out. "That's your fucking problem, Frank. You always try and think logically about the situation. Intelligence doesn't solve everything."
"Hope." Frankie looked to me in the doorway, and whatever Clark had been about to add to the conversation dissipated into the tense air between the twins. "You okay? Did we wake you up?"
"No, no, you're fine. I couldn't even hear you guys until I stepped into the hallway." I answered quietly, crossing the room to Clark. They had already seen me; no more damage could be inflicted. "Clark, I'm so sorry."
His scowl faltered a little. "Why are you apologizing? You didn't do anything."
"Maybe not, but I should have done something. I. . .I should have broken up with him if he was going to talk to you like that. You're my brother, my family."
"No." Frankie shook his head from the end of his bed. "You love Miles, Hope. He loves you. Don't ruin that over him."
Clark looked taken back by his twin's response. "I think she should. He's a prick that's just going to leave her in the dust after he graduates."
"A prick that our little sister is very much in love with, Clark. If you would see open your eyes, then you'd agree."
I feared a fight would break out between the two, but Frankie threw his long legs over the side of his bed and stood, mumbling something about cereal under his breath as he exited the room. Once he was gone, Clark shifted his body, so half his face was shadowed by the darkness of the room. He sat at the edge of his own bed, burying his right hand in the unruly mane of blonde hair.
"I just don't understand what I did to deserve all of this." he whispered into the darkness. I tensed; my lips parted in surprise. Vulnerability wasn't an emotion I thought Clark could express, but he sounded so hurt, so broken and tired. Like he just wanted it all to stop. "I never messed with anyone, but they always wanted to gang up on me."
He wasn't wrong and hearing the words aloud made me want to cry with him. He'd done a fine job at making enemies in fifth grade that followed him into high school. The strange thing was that he'd never uttered a word to anyone outside of Frankie and me as children, but maybe that was why people had started as early as grade school to torment my quiet brother. The quiet ones were the dangerous ones, my father had always said about Clark. He'd always been outcasted because of his silence, pushed around until he finally broke and decided to start standing up for himself, and Frankie, in sixth grade. It wasn't until late last year, though, after his suspension, that he decided to start heading to the weight room at school early every morning and eventually got a gym membership to keep up his appearances. It'd done him good, as my boyfriend's face had taken a brunt of a lot of my brother's aggressions this morning.
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As It Was (COMPLETED) (wattys2023)
Teen FictionSeventeen-year-old senior Everly Hope Rodgers wants nothing more than a normal year after the traumatic events that took place right before summer vacation. The hope for normal is short lived as her parents have uprooted her and moved a state away...