What Remains

Chapter 12

Underside Of The Coin
You could tear open my throat
Make me bleed out in your arms

I fell asleep not long after that. Kenny and I traded places after I woke up. He's asleep at the end of the bed like some  guard dog, and I am sitting on the rocking chair watching him all confused with furrowed brows. It's odd. Odd because I feel like I shouldn't see him vulnerable opposed to his usual tall and stoic way. But there he is, sleeping in front of me. If he figures out I am awake and watching him with narrowed eyes, I'm sure he would force himself to stay up for an entire year so I wouldn't see him like this again. It's a little funny, I have to admit. Someone like him just peacefully dozing off in whatever fucked-up dreamworld he's made up in his mind. He is leaning uncomfortably against the wall with his head hanging low, and his curly black hair draped over his face like some kind of curtain. A part of me considers taking his mask off, purely out of curiosity— then again, if I were to make a guess, I think he's a light sleeper. And if he were to wake up to me holding that filthy piece of porcelain in my grubby little hands, he'd probably just kill me there and then. Plus, it's probably, like, moulded with his face at this point.
It got kind of boring just sitting there after a while. I am hungry, and my ticket out to the kitchen is in his jean pocket.
What if Kenny isn't a light sleeper?
Slowly, as if a single creak would wake him, I slip off the stool with a smoothness that resembles a cat. I creep closer and closer to his sleeping figure. I know the key is in his left pocket; I saw him slip it there after he unlocked my door yesterday afternoon. By the looks of the small lump, it is definitely still there. I crawl to his side, just barely breathing as my hand lifts above the pocket. Doubt bubbles up in the form of bile in my throat, a taste nothing can shake.
It is as if Kenny senses my presence with him, as he stirs only a second later. I lean back, watching as he wakes himself up to the sight of me by his side. If I could have, I would've paid way too much money just to see what's going on inside his head as his eyes scan over me the way they do.
He takes a low breath, studying me like he is finding a way to peel me open layer by layer to find out what I am up to."What are you doing?" He asks— sternly, of course. He grows taller as he pushes off of the wall he was leaning against.
I grimace for a beat, then my shoulders slump, "I'm hungry. I just..." My eyes meet with his and it's like he is silently inciting me to tell the truth. I shake my head, mentally cursing myself, "I'm sorry." I shouldn't be sorry. He should leave the door unlocked, it isn't my fault. But then, will I ever win in these stupid scenarios? It's like he always forces the odds into his favor. His violence and irritation is conveyed through his eyes and his posture and I immediately recede into myself. (it feels to me like this situation is becoming more and more common.)
"I just fed you." I can see his eyes narrow. They glance to the window briefly, seeming to realize that it's the next day. "Oh. Fine." Kenny pulls the key from his pocket. He cracks his neck with a lull of his head, then proceeds to stand upright, "Come on." No way. This is not Kenny. He beckons me with a motion of his hand, and I reluctantly follow. He leads us out to the hallway, then to the stairs.
"What're we having?" I indulge, starting down the steps with Kenny in tow. If he's going to play 'nice guy', I guess indulging as much as I can is as good an option as any.
He seems to be deep in thought, maybe even having a mental battle with himself about something, as he doesn't answer until we finish down the steps, "Whatever we can find." He replies. I can practically hear him shrug with his tone.
"We should really go to a grocery store. I'm sure if I do a quick in-and-out of my house to grab some money, we'd be able to buy enough to last us a month." I say the last sentence as if I intend to stay, which I don't.
I don't.
"...You're not leaving this house." Kenny says as he shadows me into the kitchen.
I raise my brow confusedly when I glance back at him."Why not? You asked me yourself why I'm not trying to escape. If I wanted to leave I would have done it by now." I reply sharply.
"I don't know if I can trust you like... that." Kenny answers, his eyes slightly scanning over the kitchen.
"You haven't tied me to the bedpost, is that not your form of trust?" I turn fully to show him my spitefully furrowed brows.
"Don't give me that look." Kenny's eyes narrow as he scans me up and down, "I'm not taking any chances with you. That's final."
I bite my lip anxiously, nearly piercing the cracked skin. "I'm not your pet, Kenny. It's not your choice when I go outside that room— besides, how do you know I don't just want some fresh air?" My mouth grows drier and drier with each fable excuse that falls from my mouth, "Plus, I've already gone outside without you near me. I didn't try to escape, did I?"
"For all I know, you could have been plotting to... Christ, Quinn, I don't care what you say, you're not leaving." Kenny's arms cross impatiently over his chest as he looms over me. He is trying to make me falter, and he isn't hiding that fact in the slightest.
My fingers find themselves tangled in a small strand of hair, "You're not my dad. You can't tell me what I can or can't do." I take a short step back.
"No, but I'm the one who's taking care of you and you'll do as I say." His finger finds itself pointing aggressively at my face, "I saved your life, you owe me." Kenny's eyes hold a hostile glint as they squint in a spiteful way in contrast to earlier squints. His brows are also furrowed; I can see the dark hair just barely under the top of the mask's eye socket.
My lip trembles, "I owe you shit." It comes out as a grumbled whisper. "Everything has been your fault. You owe m—"
In an instant, Kenny pushes me back by my neck with the outside of one arm, slamming his other fist down onto the counter beside me with the other hand. As my lower back collides with the marble I wince, clenching my eyes shut. My eyes meet his and I see nothing but a monster with no self control. A fucking asshole who's been torturing me for god knows how long.
My mother, that's who I see. They're one and the same.
"You owe me your BLOODY life, d'you hear me?" Kenny's voice is loud, so much so that if he didn't have his mask on, my hands probably would have been covered in spit. He levels himself to my height, trying to get as close as possible to assert himself.
"YOU'RE A FUCKING DISGRACE OF A DAUGHTER."
A pause of silence— my hands clench the edge of the smooth counter so hard I could've sworn I heard a crack. I stand there in pure fear, trembling and rigid beneath the man before me. "...Please, not again." My voice cracks. I am surprised that I can manage to speak at all.
Kenny lifts off of me, and immediately a large breath flows in from my mouth to my lungs. I blink back the blur of the tears in my eyes as I watch Kenny take two slow steps back. From what I can see, his eyes are wide.
"I'm sorry." Kenny whispers, his hazel eyes slowly trailing to my blue ones. I don't respond. "Just... I'll find a way to get us food. Please come with me." He holds his hand out for me.
Hesitantly, I stand and walk to him. I don't take his hand. I brush past him, making my way to the room I know he is going to lock me in.
I shouldn't have pushed him. I should have known better.