Ugly : clifford a.u

Michael

The sun warmed my face as I sat on the floor of Spencer's room. Lola's head was in my lap and Spencer sat in front of me, connected to me through her hair which I twisted in my fingertips braiding it.

Down the hall a melodramatic Lana Del Rey song whined on, drowning out the rhythmic thus of the washing machine in the laundry room the next room over.

The smell of the chili Spencer's Mom had put in a crock pot before work filled the house. The pleasant aroma mixing in my nostrils with Lucy's natural scent and the intoxicating smell of the coconut lotion Spencer wore.

Her hair felt thick in my hands, the curls light and bouncy, springing back into uniform formation each time I gave them a gentle tug.

Lucy's head rose and fell on my thigh with each breath she took, and her drool was forming a small wet patch on my pants.

"Michael?" Spencer asked, breaking our comfortable silence.

"Hm?"

"Are you happy?"

I thought for a moment, "Right now or in general?"

"Both."

"Right now, with you, yes."

"And in general?"

I thought about Spencer, she made me happy, Maggie was annoying but she made me happy, when my Mom was in a good mood she made me happy but she hadn't in a while. I thought about my sister and the fact that I couldn't see and would never really drive, my time behind the wheel had just been a novelty. I thought about how I would always depend on my mother, how I would always need someone else for stupid things, stupid things normal people could do like tell condiments apart, things I needed help with.

"I don't think so. No, are you?"

"No."

I sighed, "is anyone?"

"I think so."

"Who?" I questioned, realizing I couldn't think of anyone who hadn't been touched my trauma or tragedy or the tremendous burden of seemingly random shit mental health.

"I don't know anyone personally." Spencer admitted.

"I don't think our default mode is happy." I ventured, "But I mean that makes since, if you were always happy what would make you happy? You'd always be craving something better. I'd rather be melancholy and have simple things make me happy then always be in a neutral phase of emotionless supposed happiness."

"You feel sad when sad things happen." Spencer counted, "I think you'd feel happy when good things happened."

"Happiness is just dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins." I answered, "People literally do drugs to feel happy and what's they do they crave more and more for a better high until they over do it and die, it's never enough."

"That's depressing."

"I suppose it is when you dissect it."

I heard Spencer inhale, preparing to speak again, however she was interrupted by a startling thud down the hall. On my lap Lucy growled protectively and I heard the rustle of Spencer's clothing and the creak of the floorboards as she moved away from us.

"I'm sorry." I said quickly, "She won't hurt you, she just got scared. She can't exactly ask, "what was that?""

"Yeah," Spencer said shakily.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I don't know.... Luke?"

I strained my ears waiting for an answer but heard none, instead the music coming from down the hall increased in volume.

Spencer sighed and I felt her walk past me, her voice fainter as she moved out of the room.

"Luke what the hell was that?" She called out, "And your music is way too loud."

I stayed still, listening.

What sounded like tape was ripped away from something.

"Really Luke, a do not enter sign, what are you five?"

She pounded on the door, "Luke?!"

Uneasy I rose to my feet and careful not to stub my toes in the unfamiliar layout, shuffles towards the sound of her voice.

"What do you have in front of the door?... What are you doing? Open... You pushed over your bookshelf? What are you doing?..... Stop! Fuck! Oh God what the fuck! No! Move! Michael! 911 call 911 call 911 Please please... why... I can't...."

My mind racing and ears ringing I hastily reached into my pocket and removed my phone.

"Siri, call 911." I demanded shakily.

The phone rang once but it felt like it rang for hours as I tried to focus on it and now Spencer's cries and pleas.

"911 what's your emergency?"

"I-I-I don't know." I admitted, "Spencer's what's happening what do I say."

"Help!" She sobbed, "We need help!"

"We just need help." I echoed.

"I can help you better if you tell me the nature of your emergency."

"I don't know I'm blind, she's screaming...  I think her brother is hurt, I think it's bad, really bad. Please send somebody."

"Michael?"

"Mom?"

"Where are you, what's going on? Where is her brother?"

"His room I think."

"Michael help me! I can't get the door open!"

"Send help Mom."

"Michael wa...."

Dropping the phone I rushed with outstretched arms towards the sound of Spencer's voice.

"I can't get the door open." She sobbed, "help me."

Pressing my hands against the door I pushed, without success, bracing my shoulder against the door I tried again. Adrenaline, horror, and the gut wrenching feeling of sensing Spencer's utter terror taking over, I took a step back before ramming my shoulder into the door, once, twice, three times, harder; She was kicking it and then with a loud bang and splintering of wood it broke.

Spencer was screaming, sirens were wailing, Lucy was barking, and I was a helpless, useless mess, confused as to how to help or even what the situation was, I just knew it was bad. Bad enough that I was grateful I couldn't see it.