Sullivan Siblings

XVIII

Oddly enough, my stomach is growling. Technically, I am still grounded, and that is the problem. Odin won't let me out of my bedroom unless it is for meals or family time, which Ivan insisted I join in on. Then again, my stomach is probably growling because Odin and I got into a disagreement and he sent me to my room before he turned into his violent, sadistic self. Ivan had to work late, so he wasn't home to run interference.

Speaking of Ivan, he still isn't home. While he occasionally misses a few nights at home for a very important, high end, across country or out of country job, I can't help but feel that he is working extra hard just to avoid us. He doesn't want to deflect any questions I might have about our parents and he doesn't want to see the injuries that come from Odin's wrath.

Maybe it makes him a coward, but I think it makes him human. I'm glad Ivan is able to show his weakness. Otherwise, I'd think he was some sort of robot, a kinder version of the Terminator. Odin might have bigger muscles, and he can be violent and ornery and vindictive, but the thin veneer hiding Ivan's wrath from the world is a relentless, palpable bomb counting down until it explodes.

Even with my brief experiences in public and at school, I have never seen anyone quite like Ivan. The rage is hidden by a thin glamour, his gentleman's side enforced by the monster lurking in his mind, wounded eyes are void on purpose, to keep the brute from lashing out.

My stomach grumbles again, lurching me out of my thoughts. Is it worth it to sneak downstairs and grab a snack, maybe heat up some leftovers? Will Odin be angry that I disobeyed him or happy that I am actually hungry?

In the end, I decide to crawl out of bed. It isn't too hard of a decision because my stomach is now yelping in hunger, the gurgling noise rising a couple of decibels each time my stomach reminds me it needs nutrients. I throw my blankets off to the right side of my bed and swing my feet off the edge. My toes scrape against the floor, whispering a staticky sound before I plant my heels on the wood planks.

Now I have to remember where all the old, creaky boards are and avoid them in the dark. This is where I swear at myself for not cleaning up my piles of dirty laundry from earlier on in the week. I stand up, wincing when my bed groans from releasing my weight.

Odin is a very light sleeper. Hollis gets in trouble at least once a week for sneaking downstairs for a snack, or trying to sneak out to a party. But, Odin went to bed an hour ago and he hasn't tossed and turned in his bed, getting comfortable, for the last fifteen minutes, so I think I'm okay.

My next problem is the tantrum I threw when Odin sent me up to my room. I'd jammed my headphones on and blasted music until my eardrums were sore and a headache rose in my brain. With all that noise, I never heard if Ivan actually did come back home. He could be hiding out in his office if he really is busy with work. Usually, he only calls Odin if he has to suddenly work late and Odin didn't tell me because of our difference of opinion.

It's a chance I am willing to take when I feel the hunger making me nauseous. I'm reminded of the lunch at school I didn't eat much of. Who likes overcooked brussel sprouts with clumpy mashed potatoes and dry chicken legs?

I take a step forward, sliding my feet so my toes can knock away discarded clothing from my path. Surprisingly, I don't hit any clothes. I shrug and purse my lips, impressed with that. It appears as if I don't have as many dirty clothes on the floor as I thought.

Manny washed his clothes today. He probably came and took all his clothes that I used, and washed, dried and folded them. He used to put his clothes in his dresser, but lately he's been leaving the ones I steal on the dryer. Bless his heart. That might also be to save me from Emmett's wrath. He hates it when I go in their bedroom.