The Odyssey || 𝗕𝗿𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗪𝗮𝘆𝗻𝗲

Fifteen | Swear

"When is daddy coming back?" You only go unanswered because your mother can't hear you over her own gulps of liquor. Had she heard you, she'd probably smash a plate on the ground at the mention of him. You think it best to not repeat yourself.

Your sister watches her from across the dinner table with narrowed eyes and resentment in her face.

You know that your big sister hates your mother. It bothers you tremendously, but you know that it's best to not get between their arguments.

When they do argue, you're sat in front of the television to watch The Bugs Bunny Show or Jabberjaw, and your eyes are glued to the screen. You try to push the harsh words to the back of your mind as you enjoy the rather aquatic tune of The Neptunes. You only flinch a little at the breaking of glass and acrimonious screaming, but you learn to ignore it and maintain your own sort of calm.

Raleigh is seven years older than you. Even at fourteen she has the mentality of an adult, though you have to admit, not a sophisticated one. She's bitter and destructive, to both herself and her surroundings. She's a frequent runaway. Your mum doesn't do much to look as though she cares when she's gone, but you're well aware that it scares her.

You are unquestionably the calmest in the house, and likely the most responsible as well. You keep everyone from falling apart, with what little talent you have on the creme colored piano that sits in your foyer.

Mum stops drinking and smiles a little bit when Raleigh puts aside her consistent animosity and sits beside you on the bench to guide your fingers. Au Clair De La Lune was the very first song mummy taught the two of you to play and by now you only pretend to mistake a sharp for a flat just to get your sister to stay with you.

But it's never enough to stop her from leaving.

"Where are you going to go?" You ask, sitting on her bed as she packs rigorously with threatening force—she and mother have had another argument, and it was apparently "the last straw". She's run away eight times already. You're not all that worried, but you make it a point to seem like you are.

"Don't worry about it, El." Your sister replies softly, stuffing her backpack full of clothes she'll never be out there long enough to wear. You think perhaps she will try to go back to London again.

Raleigh tells you that she hates America. You've only been here for two years, but you quite like it. You never had many friends in England (then again, you were five), but Raleigh'd had tons. And now she was finding it hard to cope. Very understandable.

"Are you leaving because of mummy?"

"I'm leaving, Ellie," she pauses to look you in your big doe eyes. You realize that you always push your hair back now because that's how your older sister wore it. "Because I can't be here anymore."

You furrow your brows. "Raleigh." You think you've done something wrong. It's a natural reaction.

She stops packing to kneel in front of you in her grunge black style, cupping your cheeks because you're certain you look like you're going to cry. "I'm going to come back for you, Goober." Her term of endearment makes you sniffle slightly.

"You're leaving like daddy did." Your voice breaks. "He left because of me, didn't he?" It had to be you. He stayed for mum, he stayed for Rah, but he could never stick it out for you.

"No, dad left because he was an a-hole." Raleigh said sternly, comfortingly brushing your hair back. "The difference between me and dad is that I will always come back for you, Ellie."