Falling To Pieces [on Hold- rewriting]

Chapter 11- Carrier

Please Ignore any mistakes! Once again, I'll edit when I can.
LOVELY READING!!
{{CHAPTER 11}}
**SCARLETT'S POV**

I wanted to start off by telling Xander about my adventures in the institute. Was that wrong of me? I didn't think so. Three years can pack a hell of a lot stories onto one person. And I, for one, was willing to share them with my long lost brother who had taken it upon himself to forget me when I was away. I mentally pouted when instead of opening a topic of conversation with me, he reached over and turned on the radio. Skipping stations with a little jerk of his wrist.

Finally Xander settled for an alternative rock station. Dangerous by Big Data immediately filled the car and I allowed myself a grin. Fitting.

For non creepy purposes I stared at Xander. He was in the sense of the word, neat. Neat combed hair, neat ironed slacks and button up, neat choice of tie , and nearly clean shaved. What wasn't neat was the way he was acting.

Xander spared me a glance. And when he noticed I was staring at him, he frowned and quickly turned to look back at the deserted road. We've been driving for hours. Okay, maybe minutes but the silence between us made it feel like hours. I was a little hurt, if not, a whole lot insulted that he always stiffened when I lifted my hand to merely tuck a hair behind my ear or reach for another chip from the bag he had laying on the dash. He was wound so tight. Hands gripping the steering wheel tighter every time I moved. It was more than obvious he didn't want to be near me this very second. Probably didn't trust me not to go bat shit crazy. Finally, when I boredom struck me and I found myself pathetically doodling on an envelope, I decided to make him talk to me.

"Xander." I said, Turning off the radio with a definite click.

"What?" He ground out between teeth and I could feel old Scarlett wanting to make an appearance to try and sooth Xander's worries. Like the weak little girl she used to be. I shoved the feeling away and forced a small hurt frown onto my face. Honestly, if this couldn't appease Xander, I don't know what will.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked as soflty and as broken as I could.

There was a beat of silence. "No," he said shamefully. "Why would I be mad at you?"

Maybe because you still won't look at me.

"You haven't said a word since you got in the car. " I shrugged, looking down at my hands.

Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Xander shifting in his seat. "Doesn't mean I'm mad, Scar." I've never noticed how gross and utterly horrific my nickname was. Until now.

"Then why aren't you talking to me?" I asked when Xander didn't offer anything else into the conversation I was forcing him to make. Wether he wanted to or not, he would talk. And I would tell him about my life since he last saw me. Purely selfish, I promise.

He gave a long suffering sigh, as if answering me pained him. Annoyance flashed in me. I mean if he didn't want to talk to me, why did he pick me up? I could have taken a taxi. It wouldn't have hurt me if no one decided to pick me up. Not anymore.

"I haven't seen you in a long time." He said, as if that explained everything.

Well, it didn't explain anything. It just pissed me off. "Yeah, three years to be exact," I snapped. "Three years without a visit, or even a single call. So you don't have to tell me how long it's been since I've heard from anyone." Okay, so maybe it still hurt me. I hated myself for it.

I hadn't realized how my voice had became louder with every word until I shut it and silence engulfed the SUV once again. Xander sat stiffly in his chair, a pinched expression on his face. So what? If he was uncomfortable or even mad, I wasn't at fault. I was just speaking the truth.