Hallows: Black Death

Constricting Reminders

Tech N9ne- Fragile

B.B.:

Lucien is baking with James in the kitchen. I'm sitting here doing homework listening to him tell James how to correctly make scones like James isn't an award-winning chef in England. I looked James up a few days ago and I have to admit that he's impressive as hell. Yet, he's letting Luc take lead. He's not happy about it but what choice does he have? Luc has the mouth of a crack w***e looking for their next fix when he is adamant about doing something. I also want to know what he's going to be making for our cafe and I'm all for sampling his snacks. Pun intended.

"What do you think about this?" Carson whispers in my ear and places his iPad in front of me.

"You're serious about the robot," I laugh taking it. I begin to scroll through the types of kevlar. "I don't know if I want an indestructible robot. A.I.s can be tricky and this one has a really crappy attitude. I don't know why either,"

"Kill switch," he smiles pressing a kiss to my neck. He still feels cold against my hot skin. It's midday and the fever hasn't been broken. I've been drinking water and electrolytes per my father's request. "Simple fix,"

"He'll know," I roll my eyes. "My program has self-awareness included,"

"Are you scared of your creation?" he chuckles.

"Same," my dad says opening the freezer door. He pulls out some ice pops and places them in front of me. I gladly take one and begin to rip the tip off with my teeth. He rolls his eyes pulling one of the drawers open to take a pair of scissors out. "It's a parental occupancy. You love your little creation to hell and back but at times it terrifies you down into your soul. Anything you make is going to be a reflection of who you are, B.B. Embrace it,"

"I don't have an attitude problem," I defend. They all laugh. I don't.

"It's okay. You'll figure it out," he kisses the top of my head. I roll my eyes. I push the iPad over to Carson.

"I don't," I repeat under my breath. Carson sits down on the stool next to me.

My dad has nine clothes bins lined up next to the basement wall. There are books and items in all of them. They're all labeled. I want to know what they are but I know if I interrupt him he'll get mad at me. He goes back down the basement stairs. I have the urge to follow him down there to see what's down there myself but I'm not over the thing that came out of it. I still have the burn mark on my arm. I'm already thinking about what I'm going to cover it up with once it heals. My skin looks disgusting.

"You okay?" Carson asks. "You got really quiet all of a sudden,"

"Thinking,"

"About this?" he holds up his iPad. I smile at how cute he is.

"I like the royal blue," I focus on him for now. I don't want to think about anything else. Espeically not how I panicked when I saw Rodrigo covered in blood. "Blue under the gold. Give it a unique figure and face so we don't get sued by George Lucas?"

"I like blue," he smiles reaching for my hair. "It's my favorite color,"

"She knows that," James mumbles. Carson's eyes meet mine.

"What?" I ask, barely above a whisper. I pay attention to everything. I overthink everything. It's just who I am.

"Nothing," he looks down at the iPad with a weird little smile displayed on his face. "Do you like cats?"

"What?" I laugh at the randomness of the question.

"Do you like cats?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah," he nods.

"I love cats, yeah. Why?"

"I have a cat. His name is Timothy," he informs me.

"No way. Really? At your house? You should bring him with you so he's not always alone," I rush out all in one breath because cats are the greatest. All of them. Even the big murder-y ones.

"Or I can just give him to you. He's a baby," he glances at me.

"Go get him," I laugh. He sits up and grins.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll set him up here. I'll have some things delivered for him,"

"Or we can go together," he suggests.

"You are not prepared to take this girl into a store, kid," my dad laughs coming up with a wooden box. "While you're out, mind getting some wraps for me?"

"There are wraps and cones in my top drawer desk upstairs,"

"I don't want your lavender vanilla bullshit. Get me some cherry ones and grape," he groans, dropping the chest next to the clothes hampers before he drops down next to it with his legs crossed.

"Okay," I agree.

Not because I excuse his behavior, whatever he's doing. I know he's preparing for his departure again. He wants to at the very least give us the means to figure out what it is we really are. My stomach clenches tightly with the thought of him leaving. I don't want to crowd him but I feel like being by his side all the time. I miss him so f*****g much. Even as I'm looking over this backside as he looks over the trinkets in the chest. With a sigh, I turn around to get my bag. I don't have a lot of choices and I understand that this one should never even have been a thing.

"You okay?" Carson asks once we're on the road.

"For now," I nod. "It's going to be a rough goodbye,"

He doesn't say anything else and I'm here for it. If it were Lucien he'd press and press until I snapped at him. With everything going on, that's the last thing I want to do. We head over to the Eastside of town. The middle-class houses here all look identical. I really like the houses that try to make their little slice of heaven their own with decorations and flowers. It's cozy and cute.

We pull up to Lucien's family home. It's a two-story suburbian masterpiece. I'm surprised the yard is well-kept and watered. The porch has a bench swing and it looks freshly painted in a pale white shade. In fact, the entire house looks like it's been freshly painted. The navy blue shutters look to be like they're still drying.

"Did you guys paint?" I ask.

"Yeah. Once Lucien graduates we're putting the house on the market. Our emancipation came with a few conditions. Staying in this house so that social services can keep an eye on us. They come every couple of months to see if we're spending our allowance right,"

He smirks like there's a little secret hiding in his words. Obviously, right? They don't worry about things like money in their chosen trade. Not to mention that like me, they have trust funds.

He opens the door and the sound of excited meows echoes from inside. He smirks at me and steps aside so that I can see the little orange furball tumble into the living room sliding across the ash-gray flooring. He pauses for a second and looks up at me before he bolts forward again. He jumps up and digs his claws into my calf as he starts to meow desperately wanting my attention.

"Oh, my god," I grab him cupping him in both my hands. That's how small he is. "You're a tiny, tiny baby, Timothy," I coo holding him to me. He starts licking my nose immediately. "You're so cute. You are never getting him back. He belongs to me now,"

"Great, now I don't have to come home every day to feed him," he smirks. "Let me grab somethings. Make yourself at home,"

He walks into the house turning the lights on as he goes. This place is just as I remember it when I was little. We'd come here for birthday parties. The white leather couches, the glass furniture, and the pictures of the Carson family decorate the walls. There are new ones. The Carsons and the Daniels family portraits and outings. Lots of them. Mr. Daniels loved taking pictures and she was very good at it.

This is what I always pictured a home to look like. My suburbian fantasy. Kids running in and out of the house, surrounded by friends and family, and maybe a couple of dogs. But standing here now, it doesn't feel much different from the mansion, does it? It's the representation of what used to be and what might have been. Constricting reminders of who the boys used to be and who they are now.

With his genius and need for control, Carson could have been something great. He would have probably stuck to playing baseball. Scouts would be lining up to get him to go to their school, maybe even pro because he was just that good.

Lucien with his perfect grades and elegant poise, he'd be on his way to Princeton, his dream school. That was the life they were owed and deprived of. For the first time in days, I'm cursing this so-called gift. It really is a curse. I look down into the bright emerald eyes of the kitten. His little paw reaches for my face and I give it a little smile.

"All right, baby. Let's get out of here," Carson returns. I get in the car wordlessly, just petting Timothy's little head and rubbing his ears which are too big for his tiny head.

I can't help the overwhelming sadness that comes over me. It's always there but it amplifies when I find that I'm not the only one that's constantly hurting. I may be attached to the feeling but I don't want others to feel the same way. I sure as hell don't want Carson and Lucien to feel this way. I don't want any of them to feel this way. They shouldn't have to. Yet, there's really nothing I can do. Lucien tells me when he doesn't like something. A lesson he learned when he tried to push me away, but Carson. He's everything but he's also a complete mystery. A stranger that looks after us and I want more of him. I want to know the deep dark stuff. I wear my s**t on my sleeve for the world to see. I'd like to hold his lock away in the little chain locket my heart is. Forever.