False God ★ M. Schmidt

12

[ Y/n ]

"I want to go! I want to go back!" Abby screeches, kicking my chair. I hunch over and press my hands over my ears. It seems like anything will give me a headache recently... Especially her high pitched screams.

"Abby! We can't go back! You need to go to school!" Mike shouts over her. She continues to beat my chair as hard as she can.

This drive could not be any longer. She screamed all morning getting ready. I will be throughly surprised if she still has any voice tomorrow.

We pull to a stop at a red light and Abby stops kicking my chair. I think she might've tired herself out.

"Do not." I sit up and turn to Abby. She has her crayon on the back of my seat. The car is falling apart on the outside but we try to keep the inside decent.

She drags the crayon across the back of the seat, watching Mike the whole time. He reaches back to stop her or grab the crayon. The car behind us honks.

Mike faces forward and starts driving again. Abby throws the crayon up front at him. I can see the annoyance on his face. It would take a saint to stay calm right now.

But Micheal has always been a saint when it came to Abby. He keeps his hot headed attitude to himself. Even when she's a major brat.

She sits with her arms crossed over her chest for the rest of the ride. She knows what she did was wrong and that Mike is angry at her.

The tension in the car is incredibly awkward. For once I'm almost glad my head has a sharp pain stabbing in the side to distract me. Almost grateful.

When Mike pulls into a parking spot he doesn't even bother turning the car off. He and Abby both get out in silence and walk inside together. He doesn't walk her to class, he just signs her in then walks back out.

Mike slams the car door shut. He takes the crayon from the floor and tosses it into the backseat. He doesn't say anything.

Maybe he's worried he'll say something he'll regret or maybe he just has no words at all.

Either way, I know he likes to be comforted. I rest my hand on his thigh. He drops a hand over mine, just resting it on top.

"You're a good brother." I say to him.

"Not really." He laughs a little, shaking his head. He puts the car into reverse and starts pulling out. The drive home is quiet. I keep my hand on his thigh and he keeps his hand on top of mine.

When we pull up to the house, the front door is slightly ajar. Mike doesn't say anything to me. He gets out of the car and heads straight inside.

I rush after him. He's certainly not thinking straight. Maybe I'm not either, rushing in after him like this.

I can hear him yelling and then some struggle. When I push the door open he's holding a taller man by the collar of his shirt.

My heart starts to pound rapidly. I can't think of anything to do. I don't move as I watch Mike hit him. I stand and watch for what feels like an eternity before finally gaining some courage.