Before It Dies | Tratie

viii. shatters without messes

     "Dumbass! You stupid, ignorant, selfish, impulsive, rude—"

     "Bloody Tartarus, usually those words come from someone else's mouth," I muttered, crossing my arms lazily at my brother as he strode towards me.

     "Dude, what the hell were you thinking?" Conner shoved his hands in his pockets, furious. "We spent years pranking her. Years listening to your rants about how fucking hot she is when she's mad and it was actually worth it when you finally asked her out. Why the heck was I more excited than you were? What happened? Why won't you talk to me?"

     "Leave it. It's nothing."

     He really didn't look convinced. I knew that he wouldn't be. In fact, if he had believed me I would have been worried for him. We knew each other too well. We didn't have childhood friends because our mother was always moving us around to avoid monsters. It was impossible to have another best friend.

     "Nothing? Nothing? When have you hid something from me and say it's nothing?" he asked, concerned.

     "I'm serious, Conner." I sighed. "I'm saying that it's nothing because it is nothing."

     "It isn't! I know you! Stop lying!"

     "Stop pretending to know me so well!"

     It seemed to hurt him and I swallowed back my bile. 

     "You know I'm not pretending," he said. "Come on, what is this. You're not like yourself at all. Do you know how horrible you look?"

     "I truly don't want to talk about it," I muttered. "Please Conner,"

     "Then why can't you fix your shit together? Why did you suddenly stop smiling?"

     "Stop trying to act like my girlfriend!"

     "Then who will be your girlfriend to make sure you're ok? We're all we have! From the looks of it, the person who probably would have been there for you no matter what was driven off. So what the hell is your problem Travis?"

     "I'm the reason!" I cried. "I'm the reason we're all we have left!"

     "Damn right you are," Conner sighed. "You drive away everyone from getting close!"

     I rubbed my face with my hand, trying to keep my voice from cracking. This wasn't really the time to be getting emotional. It had been over five years ago and I had cried enough of the tears I needed to cry out when I was 14. They shouldn't be resurfacing today, or any time else.

     "I don't mean her," I said under my breath, but he caught it anyway. His eyes suddenly landed on my wrist, noticing the pale tan line where the watch used to reside.

     "Your watch is gone." 

     "It's nothing!"

     "That was mom's watch! Of course, it isn't nothing!" he said, face red in anger. "That's one of the last things we have of her and she gave that watch to you! To you!"

     "And she shouldn't have!" I yelled suddenly. 

     The outburst was sudden, unexpected, even by me. I usually tried not to yell, I usually didn't. Most of the time, there was nothing to bottle up so the anger was never an issue. Yet recently, I felt my emotions becoming more and more unstable. There was always this shaky feeling in my chest as if I was a raft in the middle of the ocean, about to tip at any time. 

     "It's my fault mom died and you know it! I killed her!"

     I didn't know what hurt more; the fact that he didn't even try to lie, or the look in his eyes that confirmed everything, even the things I hadn't said. Conner looked so disappointed, and I didn't even know where it was coming from. He usually wasn't like that. He usually didn't look like he was waiting for the world to fall apart.