—Mike's POV—

I headed into the kitchen. I wanted to know why dad was going to apologize to Vic—or more importantly if he was actually going to apologize without any stunts or tricks.

I stood in the doorway—out of the way, far enough not to intrude but close enough to intervene if necessary. Vic pulled out a chair and sat in it cautiously, his eyes innocently wide. He looked small, even in this narrow kitchen, he looked almost like an infant, shrinking against his fathers wrath.

"Right" my dad said in a low voice as he sat opposite him. Vic averted his eyes—he never liked eye contact. "First of all, don't fucking intervene okay? They are my girls and you fuck things up for me by stepping in you nosey little shit-"

"Dad." I said in a flat voice that I hoped sounded displeased and slightly irritated. He looked at me with a crazed expression on his features, his finger suspended in the air, pointing at Vic.

"What?"

I just shook my head as if to say: don't fucking talk to him like that. He rolled his eyes and carried on.

"Secondly," he said strongly "Er..I'm sorry" he mumbled

"I don't think he heard that" I dared to say, he threw me a look that told me if I didn't hold my tongue I was going to be choking on it soon enough. I dismissed his threatening gaze though, we were partners now, he had to listen to me up to a point.

"I'm sorry" he said more clearly, not really making eye contact with Vic, like his apology plus eye contact would make the words more sincere and god forbid that right?

Vic nodded in reply but I doubted he was actually accepting the apology, I imagined him thinking something like: sorry for which part, asshole?

"Are we done?" My dad looked to me and frowned, probably trying to contain his anger "What? I'm pretty sure Vic wants to be as far away from you as possible" I spat. Sometimes I felt like I had to defend Vic at every single opportunity simply because he didn't talk so he never stuck up for himself. Vic didn't look at me though, he just kept his eyes on the table, probably wishing for a better life. Don't worry buddy, I wish for that too.

"Come on, small fry" Vic whipped his head up and tilted his head to the side in confusion. I looked at the ceiling with my eyes as if signalling that I was looking beyond the ceiling and I meant upstairs, his eyes flashed with understanding and he got up from the table.

All the way up the stairs Vic trailed behind me silently, like a lost puppy. Honestly, I wanted my brother back, I know he was in there somewhere.

"How are you feeling?" I asked as I barged into my own room, flopping on the bed. He sat crossed legged on the floor, leaving the door wide open and it was perplexing how child like he was. Always looking frightened, like everything around him was twice his size.

He nodded at me as if to say: yeah I'm fine.

"Vic" I narrowed my eyes at him and he shrugged with one shoulder "Come on dude, just use your words, just this once. It's only us around, nobody else can hear you, come on" his eyes darted nervously around the room as if he was considering it but extremely hesitant about it.

"Please..." My voice was desperate but I didn't care. I was desperate. Desperate for my brother to talk to me. Desperate for my brother to start acting like the big brother he was supposed to be.

He looked at me, wide-eyed and his eyes filled with tears as he shook his head. Seeing him like this triggered a memory inside me, a memory of pain.

"Vic, you can't keep this up" he laid on his bed, his eyes vacant and unmoving, if I wasn't used to his ways I'd have assumed he'd died while I was pacing the floor. "Jeez, Vic will you please just talk" no sound, no movement, nothing.

"Listen, bad stuff is going on down there. I don't know how to stop it, you have to help me. I think dad has lost it. There's this girl and..." I trailed off, I knew he wasn't listening so why was I bothering? He hadn't moved an inch since I began talking, not even a slight twitch. He wasn't listening, maybe he didn't care.

He hadn't spoken in four months, I thought it was a phase, but it got worse. First he stopped speaking, now he wouldn't even leave his bedroom, he wouldn't eat either. I was at my wits end trying to get him to talk to me, trying to shake the good brother I knew was in there, out of him. Dad didn't care that he didn't talk or come downstairs or eat 'less he comes down here, the less he gets in my way' dad had said once I'd voiced my concern for Vic to him. I should have known better than to think he'd care.
"I need my big brother Vic, I'm fourteen years old, I don't know how to deal with this!" My voice was frantic, I tugged at my hair clenching my eyelids together, wishing and hoping so intensely that when I opened them I'd either be someplace else or dead.

I opened my eyes and he was still in the same position, unmoving, the only thing that told me he was still among the living was the ever so slight rise and fall of his chest and his eyes blinking every now and then.

"Is this about mom?" I asked cautiously, wondering if he was still wounded. This caught his attention, he turned his head to the right, looking at me, no, looking through me, with the most hateful expression upon his face.

I'd over stepped the mark.

"No, no, don't cry, its fine, I'm sorry. You don't have to talk, I just..." I trailed off, it was no use at all. He wasn't going to talk again, probably ever and it was something I had to come to terms with. So I didn't bother pressing any further it was just upsetting him. He still sat cross legged on the floor, tears falling effortlessly down his face. And it was all my fault. I knew he liked to be alone when he cried, he hated people seeing him vulnerable so I just left the room without another word before I damaged my brother even further.

—Leda's POV—

It was dark outside—maybe, I didn't know, there were no windows. But it felt like it must be around eleven at night. The door creaked and I forced my heavy lids to stay open.

It was Mike.

He walked over to me with a smile on his lips, it was small, but a nice smile. He didn't speak or stop coming towards me.

He knelt down and reached towards my wrist, lifting it into his lap and unlocking the metal cuff that I'd been prisoner to for too long. He repeated the motion with my other wrist and I looked at him, bewildered.

"What's going on?" I asked cautiously, ready for something or someone to jump out at me or just for something terrible to happen. That's how these situations go right? Something really good happens, but then seconds later you can't even remember the good thing because something terrible has overwritten the positive emotion you felt when that good thing happened.

"You're free to go" his voice was too high pitched to be sincere and I studied his demeanour for a second. Wondering.

"For real? What about Vic? Your dad?" It struck me that I still didn't even know his name...not that it mattered because I never wanted to address him personally anyway. And it seemed as though I couldn't address him now either way...after what Mike said.

"Dead. Now come on you're free" he smiled wider. Something was terribly wrong. He didn't seem the slightest bit concerned that his family were...gulp...dead.

"Huh?" Was all I could choke out, I was beyond confused.

"Well go then!" He laughed gesturing to the door "You're free" he repeated and I looked dumbfounded at him before standing up shakily. I couldn't wrap my head around it, his dad was dead, really dead and Vic too.

A pain stabbed at my chest.

Vic was gone.

I don't know why I cared, I shouldn't have cared, I barely knew him and its not like we had many conversations—just me talking and him shrugging, nodding or shaking his head—but he was a good guy, he helped me and I felt like I should have helped him.

"How did he die?" I asked quietly, for some reason I felt shy, like everything could break away from me at any moment.

"Vic? Oh that's old news, come on, you can leave, so leave" his smile was goofy and he was talking in such a high pitched, enthusiastic way I wanted to punch him. How could be so heartless? I had to get away from him. He was angering me, making me so pissed off, he didn't care Vic was dead, his own brother and he didn't care. His behavior was putting me on edge too. I had to get out of here while I still could.

I ran out of the open door of the room I'd been trapped in and unbolted the front door, throwing it open and being blinded by natural sunlight. It appeared I was wrong, it had felt like eleven pm but it was only midday. I squinted against the sun but stood there a while, arms outstretched to the side, willing the vitamin D to soak into my pores and put some life back into my slowly deteriorating body.

I was free.

Notes

Dun Dun Dun.

Confusing shit huh?

Give me some constructive criticism so I can make this better for you.

Much love.