Cold | Calum Hood Fanfic

Fourteen

"Michael, Honey? Can you take your sister to see Jocelyn tomorrow? I have to work late," their Mother Karen question, peeking in from the kitchen at the four boys playing video games.

"Uh, yeah. I can. But, I think she's mad at me," he had replied, pausing their game of FIFA.

"She's not, just talk to her. I'm sure she'll explain. Thank you, this is a huge help."

"Okay," he sighed, unpleasantly.

"Wait, who's Jocelyn?" One of the other three had asked, after Karen returned to her own business.

"Ivy's therapist, but don't tell her I told you. I'm pretty sure she didn't want anyone else to know."

That's what went on that morning, before rehearsal and all. Now, Michael had gone upstairs and was sitting beside his baby sister, watching her attempt to subtly tug down her sleeve. But her cautiousness was in vain, when it was more than obvious she had something to hide.

"Is everything alright? It feels like you're avoiding everyone."

She kept her gaze averted in the opposite direction of Michael, "Everything is just perfect... Don't worry..."

"Don't you dare lie to me," he spoke in a frighteningly stern tone.

Ivetta released an inaudible whimper, sliding to the farthest end of the bed.

Michael's expression softened, as he went to lift her into his arms. Only for Ivetta to squirm out of his hold, and onto the faux wood floor, where she laid on her back, inhaling a sharp breath.

"How's the weather down there?" he joked, laying on his stomach, head over the edge.

"It's not funny. Just leave me alone."

"Give me your hand."

She did that, only with the right arm she is not hiding anything on. Michael tugged her into his embrace, folding his arms around her little frame. Their chest pressed together, while her lower half laid in the space between Michael's dangling legs.

"Ivy.... Why are you avoiding us? It's been a month.... Moms been taking you to therapy, and I don't have a clue what's wrong.... I guess I'll find out tomorrow, but I want to hear it from you. Naturally, not because a therapist wants to know."

She exhaled a shaky sigh, as she nestled the bridge of her nose into Michael's exposed neck. While Ivetta also snaked her arms across his waist, "I love you," she mumbled. "But, I can't tell you."

His hold tightened, fiery beginning to pump through his veins. His blood boiling, as he grew impatient with her antics.

"Why?!" The younger girl pushed back, stepping several feet away. She had become very much frightened by his outbursts, "Damn it, Ivy! Why the fuck can't you tell me?! I love you so much, and I want to help! You're my little sister, and I'm supposed to be able to help, but you won't let me!"

She dropped to knees, balling her eyes out. Terrified that Michael would turn into a younger monster, than their father was.

Standing up, he grabbed hold of her biceps, pulling her up to her feet. Not loosening his grip at all, he shouted in her face, saliva droplets pattering on Ivetta's skin, "Tell me!" She shook her head from side to side, to afraid to open her mouth. This angered him more, "Why. Not?" He growled menacingly.

"Because I hate you...."

She hadn't meant to say that, but she did. Now that those words left her lips, Ivetta felt terrible. What she spoke were lies. She could never hate her brother. No matter what, like wise toward their father....