Try {Emerson Barrett}

9

Sebastian watched on as Remington, Codie and Emerson slept in a bunch on the opposite couch. They all looked peaceful as if nothing in the world was troubling either of them, yet each of them carried a burden. Codie had a heavy past which weighed down on her shoulders and Emerson was dealing with something cut so deep below the surface of the skin that the poison was in his blood and infecting his brain.

Emerson and Codie's heads were leant on top of each other whilst Remington lay across their laps, his legs uncomfortably off the edge of the couch. The peaceful expression on Remington's face was foreign, as for the last few nights the only emotions etched upon his features was worry, anger and frustration.

Remington's previous behaviour became understandable as the feeling of unknown dragged him towards malicious intent. He wasn't mad at Emerson, nor was he mad at Codie; his ill feelings that festered below the surface of the skin and rooting themselves deep were directed solely at Remington.

Remington had clearly confronted Emerson, and he had clearly gotten the answers he desired. Yet somehow Sebastian couldn't help but harbour a slight hatred for the frontman of the band. His brother should have waited to talk to Emerson with Sebastian.

Sebastian could tell that the singer had not been gentle in his means of extracting the information from the drummer. He had seen Emerson's cheeks, stained from the tears. Yet he also saw Remington's cheeks as well, the man had not cared enough to wipe away the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks.

Remington was now in the 'loop' of the inner workings and pain rooted in Emerson's brain; Sebastian was in the dark. He couldn't hate Codie, she had been through enough shit in her lifetime, it just wouldn't be fair to take out an unjustified hatred out on someone who didn't deserve it. Hell, not even Remington deserved it.

Before the guitarist could think any further into it, Emerson's body began to shake and tears began streaming down his cheeks. The eldest Kropp stood, getting ready to comfort his brother, but Remington and Codie awoke after feeling his shaking. Both of them worked together to wake him up and soothe him once he had woke, both of them chased him to the bathroom, and both of them tried to talk him out of the bathroom.

Sebastian stood there.

He didn't know what to do. It was like that time four and a half months ago when Emerson locked himself in the bathroom after seeing Maisie. Sebastian had stayed a fair distance away then, as to not crowd his brother's, but now he was standing back for a different reason. He was out of the loop.

It was like he wasn't even a part of the family anymore. He barely even knew his brothers anymore. Subconsciously he knew what he was thinking was beyond unreasonable and untrue but the hurt and raw emotion that hit him when he realised that his brother didn't need him warped his mentality, eroding any plausible thoughts.

Emerson stood in front of the mirror examining the reflection of a broken man. He was fully aware of the fact that his brother and Codie was outside the door and that they knew what was going to happen eventually during his stay in the small room.

His brain burned with horrible flashbacks to the last time a similar scenario played out. When his brother sat outside the room for hours on end whilst Emerson sat in a pool of his own blood trapped in a never-ending void of despair and torment. Sat on the floor so close to his brother yet so far.

The vivid memories of the songs of torment that echoed through his brain were forever branded into his brain. He didn't know why these particular thoughts stuck out to him in the haystack of other self-destructive thoughts, but they had.

He looked at his wrists where pink lines were now beginning to replace ugly cuts, cuts that had exposed him and put him in the situation he was in now. If Codie hadn't found out about it then Remington wouldn't have built up the frustration and started the one-sided argument about it all. He couldn't tell if he felt better after people found out. People knowing made it harder. Harder to cut, harder to put on the mask, and most importantly it was harder to pretend to be okay.