Around the Corner (Discontinued)

Chapter 23

Laila's P.O.V.

"Carlos! If we don't do something, she'll keep running off with those troublemakers! She's already got Fern's rude manner, and her-"
"Well, why don't start worrying about Fern-"
"Can't you see Fernanda isn't going to change? And her friends are just as bad. You need to see the way ese pendejo looks at her...yes, the ugly one with the glasses..."
Behind me, the sound of the wooden door slamming echoes loudly throughout the house, answering back as soft, hollow sound.

It took only a few weeks for me to learn it's easier to ignore muffled voices rather than hearing them mock me in my room, untouched and piercing. The thunder of their voices grow with each passing day, and I'm starting to hear their words in my head.
Bramble jolts awake, yellow eyes wide, and stares at me with alarm. I slump my back against the wall, and crumble to the floor. My body aches with weariness, and the shorts I wore to bed last night along my baggy shirt are doing a poor job of helping. Both reek of their former owner, and her coconut-vanilla scent.

Bramble pounces off my bed and stretches his forelegs with a yawn. Muscle ripples under his spruce coat, imitating that of a tiger's. I remember the tabby being a diminutive pillow of fur nestled in a blanket, Tiger written on the information tag pinned on the metal cage. A ludicrous name at the time, it would've suited Bramble well.

I reach for the hefty cat, my body hardly holding together to. Attempting to make him sit on my lap, he wriggles under my fingers and his claws unsheathe in annoyance, pinching my skin.

Oh, if I had claws I would have them out too, you restless hairball I thought furiously. A few scratches later, I give up on cradling him in my lap, and free him from my grasp. He jumps off, using my thighs as a support, and hides in the far corner of my room. Getting up, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the dresser mirror, and I sink a little further into frustration. My brown eyes are hardly open, carrying the weight of dark bags underneath them. Chapped lips and a face slick with the signs of sleepless nights, any hint of beauty is drained into a thin sieve of thoughts. In the kitchen, an earsplitting smash is followed by more screaming. One less porcelain plate.

Dry and in knots, I run my fingers through my hair, only to be caught by a blatant tangle. I sigh, snatch my wooden hairbrush off my dresser, and run it through my hair vigorously. I wince as I tear through each knot and tangle, refusing to be gentle and slow. In the corner of the mirror, Bramble's wide yellow eyes, full of curiosity, rest on the wooden brush. I set it aside and grin.

I chase Bramble, move furniture, and open two bandages before I mange to capture the dark tabby and pin him on my bed. As he struggles in my lap, I reach for the hairbrush which I dumbly set on the dresser and run it through Bramble's coat. My mother would be disgusted, but lining the old, wooden, piece of junk with cat hair doesn't matter to me.
Bramble stretches across my jeans in pleasure, a soft rumble of contentment erupting from his throat.

"You like that, don't you?" I mumble gently. My voice sounds like a foreign animal to me, on the verge of cracking. Bramble doesn't notice a difference, and continues purring. Inhuman and incapable of responding, he understands in his own way. Although, the thin scratch on my cheek boils.

"Fernanda hasn't visited. She hasn't stopped by the house. She hasn't called. It hurts but, who would though? With these two always yelling in each other's faces." I gesture my head angrily at the door, where my mothers vulgar Spanish fills the hall. More purring.

"But still, it would be nice if she'd least check up on me. I told her everything, even what happened with Felix..."
Bramble turns on his back, his legs unmoving, and begins to playfully lash out at the brush. "Do you think she forgot about me? Or does she just not care? Maybe she's busy-"