Alone Together (Gallavich)

thirty-two

mickey

I woke up to the sound of a glass bottle being shattered outside my bedroom. The sun was up outside but that didn't mean it wasn't too early to be fucking slamming things when people were trying to sleep. Without a doubt, I'd take the Gallagher House Antics over whatever the fuck was going on here. Slowly, I sat up and rubbed my eyes, flinching at the sound of my dad's voice screaming coming from the living room.

"Jesus fuckin christ," I mumbled tiredly to myself, swinging my legs around the bed so that I could get up.

When I opened my door, I was greeted by the site of Terry chucking an empty beer can from the living room to the kitchen. I turned to look at what his intended target was, as his drunken state prohibited the can from getting very far. Standing by the fridge, holding a frying pan up to her face as a shield was none other than Mandy.

"What the hell-"

"You tell your whore of a sister that this is my house and if she doesn't like the rules in place, she can fucking leave!" My dad's words were harsh and evil, even through the slurring. He picked up a beer from the coffee table and cracked it open while he kept his demanding eyes on Mandy.

Staying near the living room as to not get too involved in something I shouldn't be in, I raised my eyebrows at Mandy in confusion and shock. "The fuck happened?"

"I'll tell you what the fuck happened," Terry interjected. "I tell her it's her turn to go buy more beer. All we had left was an Old Style from the case you grabbed the other day and a case of Bud. I don't fucking like Buds and your ungrateful ass should know that," the last part spit out as he pointed to Mandy with the beer can still in his hand. "Little shit says no. Something about not "indulging me." Worthless child."

My eyes still on Mandy, who was now looking at me, frying pan in hand, with a lot more ease than I'd expect, I tried to help the situation calm down without Terry's involvement, since he clearly was plastered. "Why didn't you just go fucking get it?"

"We ran out of ginger ale," she responded quietly with a small smirk on her face.

"What?"

"He wanted beer but I suggested something less alcoholic. Something like ginger ale." She answered, adding an uncalled for emphasis on the last two words. She was gonna get her fucking ass beat if she didn't - holy shit.

The confusion instantly left my face as I realized what Mandy was getting at. This was it. She had said she was gonna help and now was where she'd cash in her word. Once Mandy recognized my awareness, she turned back to Terry.

"You're the worthless one! Couldn't even go get your own fucking booze."

"You fucking watch it, kid or you'll be really sorry!"

I turned back into my bedroom and shut the door as I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and dialed 9-1-1. Holding the phone between my ear and shoulder, I wiggled on a pair of jeans from the floor.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My dad's trying to fucking kill my little sister."

"Sir what exactly do you mean?"

"He's shit faced and throwing glass at her from across the house. It's Terry Milkovich. He just got released on parole."

"I understand. Someone's on their way right now."

"Thanks," I responded, scoffing at the clear understanding of the situation by the woman at the mention of my dad's name. Fucking psychopath.

I pulled on a shirt after throwing my phone down onto my bed and walked back out of my bedroom to find Terry on the other side of the living room now, his arm raised with an empty beer bottle in his hand. Before I could do anything, he chucked it towards the kitchen, where Mandy was still standing, blocking her face, but clearly moving into the bottle with her lower body as it hit her.