More or Less {A.C.M}

6) Doesn't Hurt Anymore

“And, you’re sure it’s his?” Alex asksremnants of shock still evident on his face. He definitely wasn’t expecting this.

“I’m one hundred percent sure.” I answer confidently.

“And, they have him?”

“Someone does. I wish I knew who. One day, he was with my mom, safe, and the next day they were both gone. Which is why I came here. To Carter. I know it’s risky, especially beings I’m trying to keep this from him, but I didn’t know who else to turn to. Carter’s the only one close enough to Dave to get me what I need to know.” I explain, my body shaking with nerves. I'm the jittery kind of scared, not the crying hysterically kind of scared. But, both aren’t good.

“I’m sorry, Piper. For pulling the gun on you. This whole time, I thought-” Alex begins to apologise. He always was the most level headed of them all.

“I know what you thought. I would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed. But, Alex, you have to promise me you won’t tell Carter. It’s too dangerous for him to know. For more than one reason.” I plead, the tone of my voice feels like poison on my tongue. I'm supposed to be stronger than this. I'm not supposed to grovel. I'm supposed to be grovelled to. Just goes to show what being back in this house truly does to me.

“I promise. But, one day, he should know, Piper.” Alex sighs, standing up from his seat on the couch, and heading back upstairs.

Groaning to myself, I throw myself back against the base of the couch, causing my head to painfully smack against the wood of the base, but I ignore the faint sting, only replaying what Alex said over in my head. Like I didn’t already know that! I know he should know, I know I should tell him, but it isn’t that easy, damnit!

I can’t just go up to Carter and simply tell him this. It’s way too risky for Carter, and for him. And, for me, but that’s not important. If this gets out so many people could be in danger, and I can’t risk that. And, telling Carter will only raise the chances for the inevitable.

I’m trying to keep him safe, and alive, but telling Carter could blow all that right out of the water.

“I need peanut butter…” I grumble throwing myself up from the couch before trudging into the kitchen, and searching through the cabinets until i find the inevitable jumbo jar of crunchy peanut butter. I spend some time finding a spoon before retiring back to the couch.

I waste no time, twisting the top, and ripping it off with an eager aggression that only comes from irritability. I hastily dig my spoon into the jar, pull it back out, and carelessly stuff it into my mouth, savoring the beautiful taste of peanut butter.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “What the actual fuck? Why is this psycho eating peanut butter straight from the jar by itself?”

Well, for that, we’ve got Carter to blame.

There’s a lot of things I do because of Carter. Like, when I went out back to look at the sky, because of Carter. And, now I’m sitting here eating plain crunchy peanut butter out of the jar like a weirdo. Because of Carter.

It always comes back to Carter. Always.

Sighing once again, I throw my head back against the base of the couch, again, ignoring the pain, again.

“Keep doing that, you’re gonna cause some serious brain damage.” Carter snickers, slowly finding his way into the room, before carelessly throwing himself onto the couch beside me, causing myself to shift uncomfortably. Due to the springs in the couch, I bounce up before landing twisted, face first onto Carter's lap. Not a good place to have my face, by the way...