𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 || baxter radic

25.

"Mom. Dad." I look between the two of them, still trying to step back to escape. But there is nowhere to run. Bax is pressed to my back. He's all I have to protect me.

"Who is the fine young man?" My mom glances up at Baxter. I swear I see her face flick to disgust for half a second, and it's almost enough to make me turn into the lion.

"Baxter." Bax's voice controls the conversation. He isn't going to let my parents walk all over him, and definitely not all over me. "I'm May's boyfriend."

"Ah, I see." My mom and dad step to the side to allow us in. But neither of our feet move. My mom's clear disgust for what's before her is radiating too much. Neither Bax or I want her to wear off on us. We might turn sick like her if we get too close.

"I've just come to get clothes." I lie. "I'm going to Poppy's. Bax is walking me there." I look in the house in hopes to see Summer to back me up, but she's nowhere in sight. She's probably hiding, just like I wish I was.

"Sweetheart we've flown all this way to see you." My mom's voice sounds like nails on a chalk board. It's eating away at my brain every single second she speaks.

"I already had plans. Plans I can't change." I look at Bax. His eyes shift to my mom. It's quite obvious she doesn't believe I'm mentally well.

"Don't worry, there are no demons inside your daughter." Bax tangles his fingers up with mine and walks me past my parents and toward my bedroom. I feel them following on my heels. It's obvious at least my mom hasn't liked the way Bax has spoken to her.

"I don't think that's how you should speak to your elders', young man." My mom boasts.

"I don't think telling your daughter that she's insane is correct either, but that didn't stop you." Bax stands between my parents and I. He's set on a path to protect me right now. No one will break past the armor he's laid between the two of us and the rest of the world.

"You don't know my daughter." My mom bites. My dad places his hand on her shoulder to calm her, but she's already a lost cause. The mental illness is too entangled in her brain. There was no saving her at this point.

"Bax..." I warn, reaching for his hand as I throw a packed bag over my shoulder. I wasn't going to Poppy's. I don't know where I was going to go, but I couldn't stay here. Not with my mother here.

"Maybelle," he turns to me—a softness invading his features like he hasn't just spent the last few minutes fighting a war he'll never win. "I've got you."

"If you leave with my daughter I'll call the police on you." My mom warns just as the front door pops open.

Thankfully, it's Summer's mom. I call out to her, her presence gracing the situation. "Bax and I have to go to help with that thing for this weekend. My mom is threatening me. I don't feel safe." I shoot a warning glance at my mother. I would win this battle. It would be three against one and a half. My dad barely counting as a vote in this battle.

I watch Summer's mom's eyes shift to my mom. Instantly my mom's boldness drifts away. My mom had everything to lose. No one would believe her story. But they'd believe the word of a well put together business woman. Summer's mom had my back because she'd witnessed the crazy herself.

As Bax and I walk past my parents I turn to my father, "I'm sorry." I place a gentle touch to his shoulder before Bax and I leave. Once were out the door I hear the house erupt with screams. I nearly cover my ears to block it out, but Bax pulls my focus instead. He starts singing horribly to some song I don't know. It's a distraction long enough to get away.

When Bax and I return later back home, he refuses to let me stay alone. I text Summer's mom before we enter asking if it's alright he stays. She replies immediately that it's alright and it gives us the cue to enter.

As we walk inside I scan the warzone for a sight of my mother, but she is nowhere to be seen. But my dad sits on the couch, struggling to pull himself together. I give Bax a glance to send him off to my room, he hesitates but obliges.

I take a few steps across the living room and plop down on the couch next to my dad. I rest my head on his shoulder, his body not reacting to me at all. He's an even worse shell than I left him as. "Hey dad." I speak softly, staring at the coffee table in front of us.

"Welly." He whispers. He doesn't have the energy to speak any louder. He hasn't since Max passed. It's been years.

Welly is what he's called me since the passing. He insisted I was an exact copy of Max, just female. It's why I was named Maybelle. Maybelle, Maxwell, very close to identical names.

After Max's passing, my dad would always come to me and tell me that he saw Max in me that day. He would comment on things I did, say it reminded him of Max. It's why he insisted that Max hadn't left this world, just fused souls with mine. Maxwell had become a part of me. I wasn't Maybelle to my father anymore. I was Maywell. A perfect fusion of daughter and son. A nickname was the only way he could express it. I had become Welly, and I loved it.

"How was Max's ceremony?" I raise my head off his shoulder to get a good look at him. He hated them as much as I did. Only went to appease my mother. His life only consisted of appeasing her. He stopped living the day Max died. I think we all did.

"Same as always." His voice is monotone, unshifting, never wavering.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you." I reach for his hand, but he pulls his away.

"It's fine." He still hasn't looked at me. Still hasn't acknowledged that I'm sat beside him. It hurts, but its normal, the new old normal.

"Summer threw him a birthday party with our friends. I wish you could have been there. It felt like he was celebrating with us, you know?" I smile softly at a father that hasn't smiled in years.

"He was." His response still short, still emotionless.

"He approves of Bax." I rest my head back on his shoulder, a light sigh falling past my lips. "Things got really rough here. I asked for his guidance and he sent me Bax. I hope that's okay."

My dad looks at me—I only know from quiet sounds of his shirt fabric against his skin. "Does he make you happy?" I nod my head. "Does he make you feel safe?" I repeat the same nod. "Then it is okay Welly."

"Can I please stay?" I fight the urge to cry. But before the question even finishes, tears are dropping onto my father's shirt. The fear of his answer is controlling my emotions. He can't tell me no.

"Why are you crying Well?" Emotion strikes my dad's voice. I lift my head and look at him, wiping tears from my cheeks.

"If you say no, it means I'm trapped with her again." I choke out. A glossy film rushes over my dad's eyes. He knows exactly what I'm saying. He's reading past the forefront words. He gets it because he too lives every day trapped.

"My Welly." He cups my face in his hands, rubbing the falling tears from my cheeks.

In those two simple words. In those few simple touches. I know my answer. Even if he gave one hundred and ten percent, his words had no bearing on the question. I wasn't just his daughter; I was half hers too. His answer any time I asked would be yes. But his words meant nothing, when hers meant so much.