Stereotypical

XXII | They, Who Were Barely There

"Lego House"

- Ed Sheeran

(Not very related, but I like Ed Sheeran)

OKAY GUYS so I had this chapter and the next chapter done with the previous chapter, but my laptop shut down randomly to update and it DELETED the chapters. So I rewrote it as quickly as I possibly could (which is quite slow) and included everything that was in the original written version, but its not as neat and flowy. Its kinda choppy, quick, and awkward now, sorry.

There was silence. I shut my mouth, having no intention of confessing anything more, and awaited their response. It was like waiting for test results; and I felt like I'd failed this one.

Mrs. Winston inhaled through her mouth and looked to her husband. They stared at each other for a long time. There was a sense of familiarity in their gazes.

Chase Winston.

But he was alive.

She looked back at me with a sympathetic smile. "I understand what you're feeling. Helpless and absolutely guilty. We all know how that feels," she glanced at Parker and her husband for affirmation.

They nodded.

Mrs. Winston took my hands into her own, "And the more you think about it—what you could have done to prevent it," she shook her head, "you sink deeper. But believe me when I say this, it was not your fault. I'm not just saying this to make you feel better. I honestly doubt that a sweet girl like you could...intentionally kill her own parents."

I thought about it.

My father wouldn't have gone out if I'd just stayed home. Then my mother wouldn't have followed suit. No matter what angle I looked from, the arrows turned back to me.

"Look," Mrs. Winston continued, "our first son, Chase, was out with Parker one day. They...just, got carried away and ran into the back of another car." Her eyes grew misty. "Parker insisted that it was his fault, and we," she gestured to Mr. Winston, "were convinced that we were horrible parents for letting our babies get hurt."

I glanced briefly at Parker, who was rocking back and forth on his heels. Our eyes met before I averted my gaze to the bedspread.

"My point is that accidents happen, and that its so easy to think that you're the one to blame." She cleared her throat. "But all that does is put you in a hole and bury you. I know that this is easier said than done, but you need to clear your mind of all that negativity."

"Don't worry about it," Jackson said, leaning against the wall. "Let's think positively about this. Things could be worse."

I exhaled. "Its hard to think positively when your dad's in the hospital because of you," I muttered. "And she hates me now. So yeah. Positive-positive-positive."

"Way to be a jackass about it," my brother rolled his eyes. "Nobody hates you. Its all in your head, I swear."

I swallowed. "So its all in my head." That didn't entirely make me feel so great. Not that I was ever feeling good to begin with.

Mr. Winston shrugged. "Nobody openly expresses hatred for you right?"

"Ha, well." I said dryly. When their expressions morphed into some kind of mix between concern and disbelief, I shrunk. "Its just one girl." And about a dozen others. "And it was my fault."

"They used to be friends," Parker pointed out. "She's just being bitter."

I watched the three group together and hiss to each other. I could easily make out what they were saying, but centered my attention on the fading red lines on my forearms to let them have their privacy. I needed long sleeves - I was paler than usual so my blemishes were more apparent.