The reason

Chapter 12

Ben tries to enter first, but I push past him, giving him a glare as I pass. The only noise is a quiet hum from the fridge, I'm pretty sure mum isn't home. Kicking a jumper out of my way, I hurry soundlessly across the room and peer into the lounge, expecting to see her unconscious form on the couch. A room devoid of life greets me and I know she isn't home. It's barely mid day, there's no way she'd be in bed. Wallowing around sober with a killer hangover is not her style. Either she's out getting drunk or wasted, or she actually managed to make it to work. If she still has her job.

"She's not here." It's a sigh of relief, the breath I'd been holding whooshing out of me. Trusting my knowledge, Ben visibly relaxes a little. Curious, he wanders off to inspect my house as I head straight to my room.

I empty my school bag and start shoving things in. A few pairs of clothes, a hairbrush, my diary and all the money I've saved. Thinking quickly, keen to leave, I dash into the bathroom. I'm holding my toothbrush, shaver and deodorant when I see it. My razor is sitting patiently in the back of the drawer, waiting for me. Sitting the deodorant on the bench, I grab my razor and shove it into my pocket. "How's it going?" I jump at the sound of his voice and spin around, grabbing the deodorant.

"It's okay, it's just me, Reegan." Relaxing my defensive stance, I beg my heart to stop pounding and force a smile at him. "I know, I'm nearly done." I lead him back to my room and shove my toiletries into the bag.

"So this is your room." Ben comments, turning to take it all in. To be honest, it's a pretty boring room. White wallpaper, slightly chipped, that no-one ever had the time to replace with something better. I remember asking dad for some cool new colour when I was seven. He promised he'd help me do it one day soon. Then Ben (my brother that is) became sick again and everyone's time was taken up. He was given a short time to live. Mum and dad were always tired, sleeping when they weren't at his side. I never asked them again. Apart from the wallpaper there's a bed with a plain black duvet, a  small wooden desk and a dressing table. On the dressing table usually sits my hairbrush and jewellery box. Inside the drawers are my clothes, neatly folded. It's the only neat part of my room, the rest of my clothes are strewn all over the floor, mixing with scattered balls of paper. It's the way my room has always been.

"Yep, this is it." He runs his fingers along the dressing table, finding interest in things that aren't all that great to me. Idly holding a pair of earrings up to his eye, smelling my lip gloss. Suddenly he starts opening drawers, inspecting the contents. Who is he, to start invading my personal things? He must be insane.

"What do you think you're doing?" He doesn't look up despite the indignation in my voice, just opens the last drawer on my bedside cabinet. Lifting up some old schoolbooks he says, "Aha!"

"What?" I ask, slightly annoyed. "I was wondering where you kept these." He pulls out the photographs of my family before Ben died.

"Everyone usually keeps some photos in their room, I knew you'd have some. There's no portraits around the house. Awww, you were adorable."

"Yeah, well you can hardly call this a family. Give me those." I attempt to snatch them off him, but he lifts them away. Damn guys and their height, well him in particular. I haven't opened that drawer in years, out of sight, out of mind. I still remember shoving them into the deepest part of the drawer after keeping them out for two years, hoping some new ones would be taken. A couple of the frames are cracked, the result of my anger, but they are the only memories of the life before.

"Give them here, Ben." I say in my stern, no nonsense voice. Sulking, he hands them over, giving me puppy dog eyes. Crouching, I shove them back into the drawer. "Please, can I keep one? Just one." He looks at me with pleading eyes from beneath his lashes.

"Fine." I grumble, and hand him one. It's the one with my brother and I eating ice-cream in the park. That was the day he got released from hospital after months of chemotherapy. It was a really fun day, a memory so good it's painful to think about. I don't want to remember how dad pushed me high on the swing, the wind making my hair stream out behind me. The way my parents held hands, close yet already starting to draw apart. Standing up, I sling my bag over one shoulder and pull him out to the truck.

"So you're staying at my place?" He asks, sliding behind the wheel. I know I shouldn't, it's a bad idea. But he's had plenty of chances to hurt me, and he hasn't. "Just one more night." I say firmly, expecting him to argue. "I'll take that." He says and pushes the car into drive.

A/N Yay, this book just reached 50 reads. So I thought I'd post immediately for you guys. I'm sorry for the short chapter, it just felt like the right place to finish, you know? Exams will be coming up soon, so I'll probably be busy revising, but I'll try to post regularly.