Collision

Chapter 1

Tap the star for me?

Amelia

As I stepped into my brother's apartment, the smell of alcohol hit me like a brick.

I always expected something else, even though I knew it would be the same. My brother was an alcoholic, he has been since he was twenty-one, when my parents first passed away.

He blames me for their death because I was in the car. He acts as if I could've done something, or that I should've been the one to die. And sometimes, when I'm alone or he's beating the hell out of me, I think he's right.

I blame myself most of the time too. The few people I talk to tell me that my thoughts are irrational, or ridiculous, but I have my doubts.

I sneak through the halls, praying he doesn't see me. I run past his door, but my prayers are unanswered.

"Amelia?" I hear his slurred voice call.

I curse under my breath, before walking back to his door frame.

"Yes, Connar?" I say politely, hoping tonight he will ignore me.

"Why are you home late?" He says, voice coming out drowsy and slow.

"I stopped by the store to pick up some food." I explain. "I brought you some home, too."

"You went somewhere without my permission?" His drunk voice adopted an angry tone.

"Y-yes Connar. I thought you wouldn't mind..." I lie, knowing he would, but hoping he was well past blacked out already.

"Go to your room." He demands.

"Yes, sir," I say respectfully.

I know Connar needs help that I can't provide, but it still doesn't stop me from trying. I walk into my room, my stomach growling. I know that tonight I won't get any food for coming home late. Why didn't I just eat in the car?

Because you're stupid and thought he would act different tonight.

I throw myself on my bed, looking around my room. My cream walls have holes here and there from whenever Connar gets mad enough, and a mirror he broke sits in the corner. My eyes tear up because it was my mother's mirror. The one she used to sit at every morning to do her makeup.

A tear slides down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away. I stand up and walk to my little closet. I remember the nights I basically slept there when Connar got mad. I used to hold a little glass castle my dad gave me as a child. It was royal blue, and it was made of porcelain glass.

One night, Connar got very drunk and came into my room, trashed it, then whipped my closet open to find me. I was sitting in the back corner crying, holding the castle to my chest.

Connar had ripped me up by my arm, causing me to scream. He pried the castle from my hands and threw it to the ground. After he over punished me for hiding, he locked my door, and didn't let me out for about a day and a half.

My hands reached for the box in the back of my closet, the one that held the broken castle. My fingers moved over the three pieces that it broke into.

I missed my mother and father dearly, but I know they're in a better place, somewhere pain doesn't exist. I smiled at the thought of my parents never being sad.

A loud crash pulled me out of my thoughts. I opened my door, before quickly scampering down the hall. I cringed as old boards beneath my feet groaned under my weight.

I saw a very drunk Connar attempting to pick up a bunch of broken glass. I looked towards the sink, before realizing it was our blender.

I walked towards my room slowly, hoping he didn't hear me. Just as I push the door open, he calls out to me.