Shattered

I didn't sleep that night, my mind wouldn't let me. That and I couldn't seem to will myself to eat.
My stomach burned with emptiness and my mouth was in dire need of water. To add to my discomfort, I really needed to use the washroom.
I wanted to go home, but I wasn't sure of where that is. Not having a set place to call home is a liberating feeling for some. Not for me. I just wanted to go home, but I wasn't sure where that was or if it'd ever exist for me. 'Home' for me was Mummy painting in the kitchen and the smell of cream and fire in the stove of the parlour. Home was Daddy returning from work in the evening and enveloping me in his famous bear hugs. His flannel coat was always cold from the outside's temperatures, so the first two seconds would greet you with a chill, but the good kind of chill, then the scent of tobacco and motor oil settles in and the warmness of my Daddy's heart seeps though... His hugs always made me feel safe and sound; that even though there are bad things in this world and bad people, there are also good people and good things too. I was the luckiest little girl.
But none of that exists anymore. It never really did. Somethings just seem to be alright from the outside.
I was the luckiest little girl from the outside.
One the inside, I lived in what felt like the back of a theater. My mum and dad were the greatest actors it seemed. . . they knew how to act, how to talk and how to pose as the perfect loving family.
But my mum traced everything then painted it, and was obsessed with being young- having flings with anything under thirty and buying all the beauty products money could possibly buy. My dad had affairs with his secretaries..
Wyaat, he was considered to be the family fail- drugs, stupid shit, always having to be bailed out...
But we had the perfect family portrait..
The whole family sort of died. Obsessed with being so perfect that perfection had seemingly killed them. Masks can drive you to do terrible things..
The sound of my stomach growling brought me back to my reality: I was hungry, alone, and really had to pee. I decided that although that death by my bladder exploding would be far more pleasant than living in this hell-hole called foster care, now was not the time. There had to be other means of escaping. As quietly as possible, I eased myself up until I was standing against the wall and crept over to the door. To my surprise, it wasn't locked. I sort of half expected it to be bolted. I have been known to take off. I opened the door as slowly as possible and made my way out. This place was pitch black.
Great, I thought, no wonder they didn't lock it.
All the other homes I have lived in always locked my door. 'Ms. Schuller said you had a record,' They would tell me.
I had to feel along the walls to help me find my way around. Now I know how blind people felt. I stopped when I felt my hand graze over a door frame. It's closed.
Do I open it and risk getting caught? What if this was one of their rooms? What if, What if... screw'what if', I had to pee.
I felt for the knob and opened the door cautiously. No objections yet. I felt around for a switch and when I found it, I hesitated.
'Because some things are better left unseen.' Screw them and their rules.
I turned it on and almost cried out of relief. Who would have thought that I'd strike lucky on my first time? Without another moment of hesitation, I closed and locked the door. I noticed that after I finished washing my hands, there wasn't a mirror in this bathroom. Just the sink and a wall. But there was, once, I thought. Judging by the damaged dry-wall someone removed the mirror. I was slightly disappointed. I really needed to see what I looked like; check the damage, so to speak. I pushed the thought aside.
Priorities. I needed food. Kitchen. I thought back to earlier that morning when Louis took me down to the kitchen. We walked straight, took a left and down the stairs and- no, we went right or- this was hopeless! I was dead. And just as I was about to slide down the wall and cry, there was a loud noise.
I froze, and I listened. At first, it was quiet, hardly anything at all. It sounded like crying. As I listened, the sobs grew louder. They sounded like they were coming from above me. My curiosity got the best of me.
Who would be crying in this house besides me, unless they are housing another bird that I don't know about. But this didn't sound like a girl. It was one of the boys. But how come? I turned off the light before opening the door, and using the wall as my guide, I followed the sound. As I got closer, I heard words as well.
"... I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please!" I heard them scream. I continued down the hallway until I came to a... ladder?
"What are y' doing?"
I let out a yelp and turned around. I could only make out their faint silhouette.
"Well, are y' gonna answer me?" It was Niall. He's the only one in this house with an Irish accent. Tell him you got lost or that you were sleep walking or-
"Who's up there?" I said instead.
"No one," he said shortly. "Liam! Hurry up!" he shouted into the dark. Several doors opened and closed, there was some shuffling and the next thing I knew I was being passed onto someone else.
"Take her to down to the kitchen," Liam's voice said out of nowhere. I was being lead away.
"What's going on?" I plead.
"I'll tell you later," Louis voice whispered.
I felt him tug at my arm gently and I was lead away from the sobbing. I could hear Liam shouting at the unknown person..
He lead me to the kitchen- the place I originally wanted to find- and had me sit down at the crudely built table.
"Do you want a cup of tea?" Louis asked, lighting a candle. The dimness of its flame hardly did anything to penetrate the darkness, though. When I didn't answer, he continued moving about the kitchen getting out two mugs and setting the kettle on the stove because, in his mind (I'm guessing) I didn't necessarily object to it.
"Louis," I called timidly, but I wasn't a timid person.
"What is it, Miss Lane?" He asked sweetly as he set a cup in front of me before finally sitting down across from me. This boy's eyes were different from earlier that day. Even in the faint light I noticed they weren't as blue. Which was a weird thing to notice considering that I had only been there for just over twenty-four hours and I hardly knew the man. Maybe that was how the mind of a fifteen year old girl worked- it just noticed these kinds of things and there wasn't any point in trying to make sense of it because what difference would it make.
Louis eyes were grey and bloodshot from his lack of sleep. This man, however, smiled kindly anyway- even made me a cup of tea.
I cleared my throat, "Can I ask you something and will you please just give me a straight answer?"
Louis glanced down at his hands that were comfortably folded around his steaming cup, just briefly, before he looked me in the eyes, nodding somberly.
"Why was I placed with all of you? What about that that Styles guy Schuller told me about? Where the hell is he?"
"He's around," He said.
"But what about you? Why are you here? Are you guys like his brothers or house people?"
I was being serious, but he must have found that amusing for some reason because his lips parted into a smile. He cocked a brow at me as he let out a snort, but I could tell that he didn't mean for it.
"House people? No, we're just his friends," he chuckled, mostly to himself. "And your parents felt like this was a safer place for you."
"Then what connection do they have with all of you?" I snapped. He was nice and all, honestly, but I wasn't kidding. I needed answers.
Louis' smile dropped. He sat up a little straighter.
"Look, Miss Lane, I'm sorry. I promise you that all of your questions will be answered, but for now, we need to get some sleep, okay?"
"I'm sick of sleep. I'm sick of doing nothing and I'm especially sick and tired of not knowing. Answer my damn questions already!"
Louis looked exhausted and bone-weary, sapped completely of his energy. He looked haunted by secrets held deep within. With a small sigh and a truly apologetic smile he said, "In due time, Miss Lane. In due time."
* * H * *
I wasn't accustomed to noise in the mornings. It was always quiet- quieter than death itself... well some deaths. I wasn't used to hearing the sound of Riker whining or the clatter of pans and... laughing? So when I woke up that morning and it didn't sound like the backround noise of a morgue, it took me a while to remember where I was, the memory of last night's terrors flooded back as well. I had only gotten a fitful hour of sleep. My eyes were thick and my body ached, my head was pounding and dazed.
I closed my eyes in attempt to fit in another hour of sleep, but I knew that it wasn't going to happen for me this morning. The sunlight streamed through my skylight, there were birds singing... everything was just peachy. Everything was happy. Those goddam birds were even singing about just how great it felt to be boundless to only their own will, that they breathed fresh air, can feel the cool breezes of the approaching spring... that they were happy.
I could hear too much: Ruben and Calvin in the kitchen downstairs, Jakobi in the bathroom, my dog whining at something.
Stupid dog. Even it got something to look forward to and that something was probably table scraps. And now the smell of breakfast was drifting upstairs- bacon, eggs, coffee, strawberries...
After a minute or so, my bedroom door opened and Liam came in, smelling like too much aftershave. He probably had work today. "Come on, Harry," he said, "it's time to get up. We've got a lot to do today. And I have work but I can't leave till I know you're up." So I was right. But really, what could we possibly have to do that required me waking up before noon?
I didn't move. I could feel him looking at me, then I heard him crossing the room, and then I heard myself swearing at him as he yanked the duvet off of me and threw it on the floor. I was only in a pair of boxers, and the sudden blast of fresh air on my skin was shocking.
"Shit, Payne!" I snapped, sitting up straight. "I might have naked."
He didn't even look at me. He just turned around and began going through my drawers, tossing random shit at me. "Clean yourself up," he simply said. "You're coming downstairs to eat with us, so make yourself look pretty."
Liam gave me a wink and left before I could respond. Did he really just say that? 'Make yourself look pretty'. Screw you too, I thought. I got dressed in the clothes Liam picked out- or threw at me- before walking into my bathroom.
I already knew what I looked like, and didn't need to remind myself. But I just had to. In the left-hand drawer under the sink was a small looking glass...the only mirror in this entire house. My reflection was the same. The left side was still purpled scar tissue. Beneath the eye I still had a dark circle that would never fade. The skin still had the appearance of being split despite being healed, but that was just how it all layered itself. The top part of my left ear was still gone... I was still ugly. I still looked like a monster, a hideous beast. I dragged my fingers through my hair so it would fall over that entire side of my face, then placed my hood over it as I made my descent.
Before I made it to the kitchen, I opened up one of the hall closets and pulled out a small, crudely wrapped book. It was almost like a peace offering. I was the one that should be punished, not her. And as I made my way to the kitchen door, I stopped to listen in on what was being said.
"... You mean to say that's it? No questions, no stopping to think about how I feel about this?! What about my aunt or my grand parents- or a cousin?"
"He had no say in the matter either, no one did, the court decided this."
"What about my own brother? How about someone that I know? Not some random house with three complete strangers and a dog!" The sound of a chair signaled that she was standing up. "You know, I had a family once- a whole family- but they were taken from me, do you hear me?" Rebecca screamed. "They were taken by selfish people and I didn't even get to say goodbye! And now my brother! I'm completely alone. Thanks," she spat, then she booked it.
"So... does that mean we're eating without her?" I could hear Niall quietly ask.
I'm not sure if it was because the tears were hindering her sight or that maybe her eyes were closed altogether, but she didn't even notice me standing there, listening to the whole thing. My eyes followed her retreating figure until she fully disappeared upstairs. I released the breath I didn't even realize I was holding. I leaned the back of my head against the wall behind me. The others came around the corner looking miserable and guilty. We stood, the four of us, listened as she slammed her bedroom door, causing the ancient house to rattle a bit. It wasn't silent, though. If you listened, you could hear the sound of Rebecca's heart shattering- much like glass, but its a muscle, an organ, the thing that kept you alive. She was dead now. Not literally, figuratively. Something in her died that day- ceased to exist within herself. Figuratively dead.
But what's the difference?
"So what happened?" I ask. Liam shrugged.
"She asked where her brother was. . . " Niall sighed. I closed my eyes and let out an agrivated groan. Damn It..
"I'll go see if she's-" Louis started to say before I interjected.
"I'll go." I volunteered, a little too eagerly I might add.
"You know I think you broke my ears last night, because I think I just heard you say you'd go up there," Liam said.
I didn't respond to that. When they saw that I didn't correct them, almost simultaneously their jaws dropped as they gaped at me as if I had grown two heads.
"Wait..." Liam turned to Louis with something close to marvel decorating his features, "he's actually being serious?"
"You're actually gonna go up there and talk to her?" It was Niall who spoke this time. He looked nothing less than skeptical. "I don't think she knows you exist mate..."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course not. I'm not the one who pissed her off, right?"
Louis didn't acknowledge that last part, but instead said, "So you're going to talk to her?"
I roll my eyes for the second time. "Of course not."
"So... am I the only one that's lost?" Liam pipes.
"Go to work, Liam." I called out to them over my shoulder as I hurried up the stairs into my bedroom. I could hear faint mumbling coming from the lads but I shut that ll out for the moment.
I knew that I had a notebook somewhere. Searching through my desk, I grabbed what I was looking for, sat down on my bed, and began jotting down my thoughts.
'Dear miss lane-' Ew. Why am I addressing her like that, I'm not Louis.
I started over. 'Hi Rebecca-' What am I doing, welcoming her to Disneyland? We weren't nearly friendly enough for me to greet her so casually.
I had to think. I paced the monotonous grey room trying desperately to figure out what to say. I was no poet, certainly no novelist. I had trouble expressing the thoughts in my mind on paper. But once again I picked up my pen and wrote.
'Dear Rebecca,
I know this is going to take some time to process. . . But since Louis promised you answers, I'm now promising you a real home...'

Notes