Midnight, The Stars & You

7.

Summer 2006
France

Ginny woke up to the sounds of glass shattering. She had been fast asleep on the living room floor. Chloe was sprawled out beside her, stretching her arms and legs like a twister game. Charles slept on her right, keeping his blanket on both of their legs. She watched him for a second. He looked so... peaceful. His chestnut hair covered his closed eyes. His chest slowly puffed out and then pressed in. His skin looked soft under the moonlight- his cheeks just slightly red.

Ginny groggily wiped her face. She could hear someone yelling in the distance. It was muffled, like it was coming from the outside. She peered her coffee brown eyes over the glass table, finding Timothee asleep on the couch too. He took the far right side, stretching his skeleton legs outward. He slept with his hood on. The space beside him was empty.

Pierre. Where was he?

She moved the red blanket off her legs, carefully tucking it under Charles like mommy did to her. She smiled, having a strong urge to pat his head. Ginny ignored the feeling- too curious about the sudden noise. Had someone dropped a glass in the kitchen? Were the parents outside and yelling at each other because of the adult drinks? What had she heard?

She quietly stood and crossed to the hallway. It was really dark. She wrapped her arms around her, feeling an unnerving sense of fear. Her feet tip-toed along the floor until she made it to the kitchen. She peered around the opening, but found no one. The noise must've came from outside.

Ginny squinted her eyes at the light coming in from the sliding glass doors. She walked closer but came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Pierre and Jean standing on the back porch. She stood behind the thin curtains, hoping they hadn't noticed any movement. Her eyes trailed to the ground where shards of a wine bottle were scattered around like gravel. Dark red liquid stained the concrete. She could only see the back of Pierre's head, but he seemed... frightened. He looked like he was shaking. His shirt was stained from the spilled wine.

She stared at Jean. The normal expression of mild disinterest had been replaced with something fierce. He was holding the top of the wine bottle, what was left of it, in his hand like a dagger. Ginny gulped, hoping he wasn't going to use it like one. They were yelling at each other.

"Do you really think your practice is working, Pierre?" Jean scowled at his son. "You're pathetic! Worthless little shit!"

"I'm doing just fine, dad!" Pierre fired back, digging his fingernails into his hand as he turned them into fists. "I've won every race this season-"

"But Charles is right behind you! He's going to pass you sooner or later and you're going to lose."

"He's my friend!"

"He's your competition! Just like Max. Just like everyone. And you're going to fail, I know it."

Why was Jean talking to him like that? He's Pierre's dad and should be encouraging him, not tearing him down. A part of Ginny's heart ached at the sight. Even if Pierre was truly the devil.

"Im going to win! I've done everything you've asked me too and now you say I'm failing!? If anything, you're the failure dad! You stupid piece of-"

Jean's back hand flew across Pierre's cheek. Ginny covered her mouth as she gasped. Her bully looked weak- his head whipped to the side and shoulders sunken in defeat. Jean pointed the sharp end of the glass at him with a snarl, "Don't you ever talk to me like that!"

"I hate you!" Pierre cried.

"I hate you more." Jean wobbled past him, probably going to collapse against the wicker bench. Pierre stood frozen in place. Ginny wondered if it was out of fear. Was he scared if he moved, his dad would slash him? No. She couldn't think about that without almost throwing up.