𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐘 (+𝟏𝟖)

CH. 18: BROTHERS

M A L L O R Y

November has this awkward and anticlimactic way of making its presence known, like an introverted guest no one recalls inviting to the gathering.

For most, it’s merely a speed bump between candy corn and tinsel. Halloween slips quietly into the rearview as storefronts gleam with scintillating Christmas décor—pumpkins and skeletons replaced by wreaths and ornaments—while Mariah Carey monopolizes the airwaves, with little to no fucks given for Thanksgiving caught in between.

This month has little to show for itself beyond shorter days, grayer skies, and trees stripped bare, their final leaves scattered and winged residents long gone, escaping ahead of winter’s inevitable siege.

Oh, and midterms.

Because nothing was more delightful than the extra stress of studying for exams before the holidays.

While the weather outside can’t decide between autumn and winter, I’m sprawled across my bed, glaring at my Calculus II textbook as if the sheer force of my stare might somehow set it on fire. I even catch myself praying that whoever invented this particular form of mental abuse is already burning in hell.

If I could desecrate the grave of every pretentious asshole responsible for inventing any form of math beyond basic arithmetic, I would. Fuck math.

I thought the mind-numbing dreariness of practicing parametric equations and polar coordinates might distract me from last week’s events. But all it manages to do is give me a headache while every other thought circles back to that night regardless.

Halloween feels like a fever dream— being terrorized and chased through a corn maze by a serial killer, kissed roughly by said killer. And when I thought that was the end of it, Hunter and I were run off the road, my life flashing by as his car tumbled down that hill.

Luca's giggles details my train of thought, pulling my eyes from the textbook. I look up to see him perched on the edge of my bed, completely engrossed in a cartoon, blissfully unaware of my internal turmoil.

My gaze shifts to the mounted TV just in time to catch SpongeBob strangling Mr. Krabs over a dime. I can't help but snort, the anxiety momentarily forgotten.

Cartoons like this were on the long list of shit my ex-mother wouldn’t allow me to consume along with sweets and anything processed. She called it brain rot, making sure books were my only entertainment. It's why I clung to them desperately, diving into the lives of characters to escape the misery of my own.

Luca’s been home all week since the accident. Hunter pulled him out of school for “safety measures,” though he didn’t go into detail—not that he needed to. I’ve been Luca’s only playmate, and while it’s exhausting, I love hanging with my little goofball.

I turn back to my textbook, determined to get through at least one more calculus problem. But then Luca’s little face is in mine, blue eyes full of mischief, hands covering his face and peeking through his fingers.

Aw shit... I know that look.

“No, no...” I decline straightforwardly, knowing what game he wants to play. “Not right now, goofball. We'll play lat— Luca!” I say, but he's already off the bed, bolting out the door giggling before I can even finish.

“Luca, wait!” I shout, half-heartedly but he’s got no sense of patience when it comes to hide-and-seek.

The kid’s practically addicted to the game, and for him, the mansion is a never-ending playground with hundreds of hiding spots. But he knows he’s supposed to stick to this wing and stay out of his father’s bedroom and study, which hasn't stopped him before.