미안해
***
The only thing going through my head as I run is fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...
I can barely feel my legs moving, but I can sure as hell feel my heart racing. It's as if I've been dragged to the depths of an ocean, my lungs under the impression that they're going to implode, feeling nothing but cold wrapped around me in an icy fist. I can't breathe. I'm blindly running towards the monsters I feared as a child, but this time I know what they can do.
Somebody is shouting at me but I don't pay them attention. All I'm focused on is getting to that room. I can't let her get hurt, not now.
I scramble to the top of the stairs, not once stopping until I slam into the bedroom door, praying it's unlocked. It's not. I wrench the knob and bang on the door, but I know whatever is happening in there won't be put on pause for me. I groan in frustration. This can't be happening, oh God this isn't happening.
"Hey!" I shout at the door. "Let me in right now!" I clench my fists angrily, hearing small crying from inside the room. My heart has been crushed by the pressure I am under in this cold, pitch black ocean. That's all I can feel. My chest caving in on itself in a sign of defeat.
"Mac, what the hell?" I hear Bryson say from behind me. I turn, seeing him and Logan and Connor Gibson running up the stairs to see what's going on.
"Cole's in there," I tell him as he approaches me. "Somebody's in there with her Bryson and he's hurting her don't you hear?" I shout. Bryson only chuckles at me. I feel my stomach drop and I clench my teeth in anger. Bryson clears the distance between us in a few short steps and throws an arm around my shoulders.
"Look here Tom -" he starts but I shrug his arm off of me, boring my eyes into him.
"Don't call me that." I spit. Bryson looks taken aback. For years it was my nickname. Tom, Tommy, Tom Cat. People called me that both in school and on the field. It was supposed to be something cool, something kind of brotherly. But when Bryson said it just now I wanted to shrink away in repulsion.
Behind the door I hear a soft cry of pain and I feel my chest fold in on itself. Sick. This is sick. I stare hopelessly at the door, trying to block out the visual of what could be happening on the other side. My fists clench, infuriated. What the hell am I doing out here? I should already be in there beating the living shit out of whoever is hurting her. But instead I'm forced to wait - wait - until he comes out.
I scream in frustration and dig my nails into my scalp. What am I supposed to do?! I can't just break down the door, even though I want to. Who knows what kind of shit I'll get from everyone if I do that? I can't go through the window because...
I open my eyes, my fingers loosening on my scalp. The window...
... was open.
My heart thrums against my chest with yet another thought of hope. If I can't get through the door, I can at least hope to get through the window.
Within seconds I am back outside, my eyes scanning the front of the house for ways to the wide open window above the front step. I try my best to push out all the memories of my mom and my dad going through my head right now, but I can still see them flash before my eyes in little fragments. I blink them away like white spots in my vision, attempting to clear my head. I've finally found a way up.
