Blink

Then: Caution to the Wind

"We clawed, we chained our hearts in vain, never asking whyyyyyy." The unfortunate song I blatantly refused to name warbled out from the radio, and as Miley whined on passionately, I sniffled a weak laugh. "They even play this stuff in Germany?"

Celia, who had obligingly turned on the radio for me without question, turned her nose up haughtily and raised a threatening eyebrow. "That they do. Miley Cyrus is an admirable musician, I'll have you know."

I smiled, wiping away what was left of my tears so I could joke properly. "I guess you can never really escape bad music." 

Just as she was about to retort (and she looked significantly less inclined to be friendly about it), James interrupted, going into peacekeeper mode with a second's hesitation. "Okay, okay, ladies. As hilarious as a cat fight would be, I think Melle's been abused enough for one day, right?" He glanced at me, but looked away just a quickly, as if embarrassed. 

Celia sank back into the patched couch, looking defeated. "Fine. But Miley-" I held up a half-joking hand, and she fell quiet with a sigh. 

A light ocean breeze whispered through the open window and the momentary between-songs quiet, caressing my face. I felt the cool, leftover tear tracks tickle with the wind as James said, "Let's go."

"Where?" Celia frowned and rolled her eyes at the same time. "I still think we should stay-"

"Let's, James," I said, interrupting Celia yet again. "Sorry," I apologized to her, and surprisingly, it actually felt genuine. "But I'm screwed no matter what, and I just need to forget the shit that is my life." I leaned back slowly, contemplating my argument, which I hoped sounded more matter-of-fact than it actually was. "Please?"

James jumped to his feet, answering my question by grinning like a maniac (something which I was starting to seriously consider), as if I hadn't been sobbing in his arms mere minutes ago. Celia, however, stood slowly and lethargically, looking resentful with crinkled eyebrows. "I'm the only one with brains here, obviously, but I must admit you make a… Well, your argument doesn't totally stink." She turned to her brother, with a patronizing expression on her face. "Wherever you want to go, it has to be safe."

He nodded, looking uncharacteristically serious. "Riding is safe." He paused. "Right?" 

Celia perked up instantly, suddenly more enthusiastic by leaps and bounds. "Have you ever ridden a horse, Melle?"

A familiar rush shot through my chest as I lied automatically. "Yes." 

She extended her hand to me, and I accepted it, wincing a little as I stood up from the couch. Celia brushed her hair off of her face so I could see her concerned expression clearly. "Does it still hurt?" 

"Yeah," I said. "But I'm tough." Then, I frowned. "So, we're going horseback riding? Are they the horses yours?" 

The twins smiled proudly, in another one of their creepy, synchronized moments. "Yep," grinned James, leading us towards the door as Celia gingerly held my elbow like I was her senile grandmother. "Present from our Mum. Another perk of divorce, and moving to this god-forsaken island. Ella is Celia's, Sir James the Second is mine, and Arrow is Dad's." He smile turned a little rueful as we stepped out into the sunlight. "Mum didn't buy Arrow, though."

I watched my feet scuff the grass as we made our way out of their weathered hideout, past the main house, and towards the barn I had somehow failed to notice before now. Instead of awkwardly expressing my condolences for their parents's divorce (What could I say?), I snorted a little scornfully. "You named your horse Sir James the Second?"

"That I did," he said in what he probably thought was a majestic tone, swinging open the door to the barn. A musty smell of hay and animal drifted out with the air displaced by the door, and I stumbled to a surprised stop. The ceiling was vaulted, the greying  boards were worn, and hell it stunk. "Here we are," said Celia fondly, gesturing around in a vague sort of manner. "That's Ella, my baby." She pointed to a large grey horse, with a dappled mane and tail. "And there's James the Second, who looks uncannily like his owner." She indicated a brown horse that was nickering happily. James didn't even have the chance to insult her back, because he was fawning over his pet, feeding him little pieces of carrot from a burlap sack that hung on the wall. "And there…" I followed her pointing finger with my gaze. "Is Arrow. He's yours for the riding."