Diane flung herself back down onto the bed, throwing an arm over her eyes as if the daylight burned her.
I ignored her, heading down the hall to set the shower running. I made sure the shampoo and soap were within easy reach and headed back to retrieve my mother from her pit of solitude.
“I can't face today Lincoln,” Diane muttered, pulling a pillow over her head as I reentered the room.
The words stung; I'd heard them before whenever she entered one of her dark moods. Sometimes they would last for weeks and my father’s rage would only be stoked by her inactivity. A rage that only ever had one outlet in a room just down the hall.
“You need to have a shower,” I insisted.
“Not today Lincoln,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow.
My fingers twitched in irritation and I stepped forward, scooping her up into my arms and heading out of the room. She didn't even try to fight me, just clung to my neck like a child as I elbowed my way into the bathroom.
I deposited her in the shower, flannel shirt and all. The water ran over her, plastering her hair to her face as she peered up at me.
“You're all grown up,” she commented as she craned her neck to look up at me. She was right, the scrawny teenager she knew was long gone and a six foot two marine stood in his place. I wasn't going to let my father’s ghost change that.
“I'll find you some clean clothes and leave them outside,” I said as I turned my back on her and headed out of the room.
I made short work of selecting something from her wardrobe and dropped it outside the bathroom door before continuing down the hall to my old bedroom.
My training flashed through my mind as I pushed the door open.
Fear is only as strong as you let it be. If you face it, you will see it for what it really is: Nothing.
Funny how I'd never found anything to fear outside this house. Death is inevitable, pain survivable but the unknown moment of my father’s arrival at my door was something else altogether. The anticipation of the moment he would arrive, the seconds it took me to discern his moods. That was fear. And it lived in this house.
I stared at my old room in silence, trying to figure out what it meant. Everything was exactly how I'd left it. My teenage self could walk straight though the door and carry on his life like nothing had happened. I could even see my old school bag beside the bed, spilling homework sheets that I'd never even started.
I pulled the door closed again and turned my back on it. The sofa would suit me just fine. Teenage Lincoln could keep his room and his memories. I wouldn't be here long enough to reacquaint myself with him anyway.
Chapter Three
Kaitlyn
We ran flat out for three blocks before I dared a glance over my shoulder and realised that the raccoon had given up the chase.
There was no sign of it anywhere behind us and I grasped at a stitch in my side as I slowed to a jog and finally stopped.
Lacey ran on for several steps before realising I wasn't beside her anymore and turned to look for me.
"Holy shit, I thought we were raccoon meat for sure!" she said, letting out a disbelieving laugh.
"Was it me or did that thing look like it was on steroids?" I asked as I bent over and massaged my stitch.
"It would certainly explain why it was acting so crazy! I've never seen one so aggressive, they're freakin' terrifying when they want to be!"
I stood upright and released a shaky breath as the adrenaline started to fade from my veins. We started laughing again, and I wondered if we might have overreacted a bit.
The school gates were visible at the end of the next block and we hurried to make it inside before the bell.
The morning's classes seemed to pass in a haze of stuffy classrooms and lectures that failed to catch my attention. I skipped out on lunch with the squad, taking the chance to do my English assignment and avoid Ryan.
If Demi wouldn't let me break things off with him then maybe I could just let it fizzle out through a general lack of interaction with each other. Not that I was sure that that was what I wanted. But if I did want to be in a relationship with him then shouldn't I actually want to spend time with him? Why did I let myself get into these situations?
At the end of the day, I hurried down the corridor to my locker with my books piled in my arms. There was still an hour left before the game but Demi always insisted on us having a last minute practice beforehand.
I dumped my books into my locker and slammed the door to find Tara standing on the other side of it.