Silence | Book 1

1-10: Style

"Tristan!" Loud bangs onto his bathroom door woke him up, and for a moment he was disoriented and lost. Until he saw the bloody havoc wreaked on his dress shirt and bathroom floor, and the memories of his midnight incident returned to him in full.
"Tristan?" Anya yelled again, and he could hear a bit of desperation creep into her voice. Shite no, wait – she can't see me like this.
"Yeah? Sorry, I fell asleep last night." He answered back as he wet a towel and tried to clean his mess up. The blood had dried onto the floor, and all he did was ruin his towel while making a discoloured spot.
"Why the hell would you sleep in the bathroom?!" Anya exclaimed, rather irritated by her brother's weird habits.
"I was tired okay?" He yelled back, annoyed by her questioning everything he did.
"I need to pee."
His heart sank as she said it, and he tried to clean up even faster.
"Do you really need to go now?"
"No, tomorrow. Of course I need to go now! Why are you still in there."
"Well er... I'm getting dressed." He half-lied, as he tried to figure out what to do with this dirty towel now he'd scrubbed off the blood.
"I really need to pee Triss." She whined, and he could hear the 'I need to go'-dance in her voice.
"Well just give me a minute." He said back, increasingly frantic as to what to do.
"I don't have a minute!"
"And I am not wearing clothes yet!"
His gaze fell on his clothes hamper, and he quickly ran over to it when he remembered that he hadn't done his laundry yet that week.
"Just hurry the fuck up already then!"
"Language!" He yelled, actually taken aback by her swearing. At the same time he dug through the hamper and fished up the most clean looking dress shirt. This is sacrilege...
"Please hurry up?" She begged.
"I am." He said back, as he stuffed the dirty towel and shirt on the bottom of the hamper.
"Hurry up more."
Quick as he could, Tristan washed the remainder of the blood from his arm and hands. He dried it with toilet paper, and stuffed the wad in his pocket.
"Why are you washing your hands?! You're doing this just to torture me!"
"Just shut up already!" He hollered back, genuinely having had enough of Anya's complaints. The moment he did, he already regretted yelling, but all he could focus on was putting on his shirt. After two buttons he gave up and instead unlocked the bathroom door. Immediately Anya pushed it open, nearly hitting him in the face as she ran past toward the toilet. He rapidly darted out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Hey, what do you want for breakfast?" He said loudly once he had buttoned up his shirt in full. He figured he would put on clean clothes afterwards anyhow.
A loud 'Er...' came from behind the bathroom door. "Waffles?"
"Why would you think I have a waffle iron?"
"I don't know? You seem like the kind of person who would own a waffle iron."
"Anything else you want?" He ignored her comment, as he suspected it wasn't a compliment.
"Pancakes?"
"How about something healthy instead?"
"Aww, come on you make the best pancakes. Just once? Because it's my birthday?"
"No it's not." He said, rather puzzled as to why she'd use that as an argument. "I was there, you can't pull that one on me."
"Every day is my birthday, because I was born every day."
Tristan just rolled his eyes at her smart-ass comment.
"If I make pancakes, will you stop being a moron?"
"Maybe."
"I'll give it a go then." He said, as he pulled a bowl and a hand mixer from his cupboard and gathered the ingredients he needed.

In the midst of flipping the first pancake, two arms wrapped around his waist. For a second he was caught off guard, but realising it was only Anya, he smiled.
"You're the best brother. Even if you're really annoying, and stupid, and sometimes I just want to punch you."
Tristan's smile faltered for a second, but he pulled himself back together as he knew she didn't really mean the last parts.
"You're only saying that because I make you pancakes."
"Yeah, but who else is going to make me pancakes?" She said as she let go and hopped onto the half wall to sit and watch him cook.
"Maybe you can learn how to make them yourself?"
"And have mom kill me because I ruined the kitchen?"
Tristan shrugged a little at the comment, not sure how to answer that in a positive way.
"Do you have whipped cream?" Anya asked, oblivious to his silence. Her question did provide a distraction for him though.
"I don't, but I can make you some?"
She nodded excitedly, clasping her hands together and grinning.