IT RAINS THE WHOLE way back to the apartment.
I can tell I'm annoying the cab driver by waiting for it to stop, but it isn't long before Winston, the concierge, catches sight of me and grabs an umbrella, running down to help.
"Archie!" he says, opening the door, offer in a hand to help me out.
"Hey Winston," I greet him, grimacing as I pull my leg awkwardly out of the car before heaving myself out, ignoring his hand.
"I'll grab your bags."
I pay the cabby before closing the door and he speeds off, probably grumbling about how much time I was taking.
"Good to have you back, Sir," he says after we've made it inside.
I give him a look. I asked him not to call me Sir when I first moved in but I suppose it's habit in his line of work.
"Good to be back," I tell him.
"You need a hand with getting your bags upstairs?" He asks, hitting the button for the lift.
"Nah, it's okay. I'll give you a shout if I need anything. Thanks Winston." He hits the button for me. "I'm just glad I don't have to climb any stairs!"
"Definitely."
As the doors close, my mind starts to go into overdrive as to what I'll find once I open that door. I know what I did before I left - breaking all those bottles - but I was regretting having to deal with it in the state I'm in now.
And I doubly regret it when I get the door open. The smell of stale alcohol hits me like a wall when I come in, and I gag.
"Jesus Christ..." I hold my nose as I hobble with my bags into the living room.
The crunch under my feet reminds me about the glass. The remnants of nearly thirty wine and spirits decanters sit beneath my feet, smashed into a million pieces in the two metre space between the kitchen and the living room. I look down and see the shards all sticking up in different directions, just waiting to slice open an unassuming foot.
Avoiding the worst of the broken glass, I limp over to the room I'm sleeping in. But I suddenly stop as my brain registers someone sitting on the sofa.
I step backwards and lean around the door.
"Millie?"
From the mass of curls and the scowl she's got on her face, it can only be my sister, who I hadn't seen for over a year. And from our last conversation, I'm confused as to why she's even here.
"Millie, what are you-?"
She scoffs, cutting me off. "What am I doing here?"
"Well... yeah."
Her face looks like thunder.
"You're kidding me, right?" She lurches up from the sofa, crunching glass underneath her foot.
I shrug. I had no idea what she meant. I look to her left and she's got a bag with her. Thinking back to the date, I'm guessing it must be her university holidays.
"I'm not in the mood for crap, Millie. Why are you here?" She'd made it clear in our last conversation that she didn't want to see me again, so I am genuinely confused as to why she's here and why she's so annoyed.
"Nice to see you too, bro." She sits back down with a huff. "And it's good to know you're finally keeping your promise."
Her voice sounds flat and angry, and I can't tell if she's being serious or just being belligerent because she's angry at me.
YOU ARE READING
Forked Roads Back
Teen FictionAfter the death of Matt Granger, both Tessa and Archie feel more empty and alone than ever. Although both are trying to move on, meeting new people and starting new lives, they constantly feel stuck, like something is missing. Each trying to keep t...
