Falling

Carter pedaled fast as he turned off his street and headed towards Mark's.

He knew he was taking a risk going to his house, but he didn't want Mark to think he forgot about him. They had made plans to meet up as soon as Carter's flight landed, but it got delayed in Chicago. Carter tried to call from the airport, but it had gone straight to voicemail, and he didn't want to risk Mark not answering again.

So, he was taking a more direct approach.

Carter was careful not to jostle his bag as he rounded the corner onto Mark's street. He had wrapped the conch shell in six layers of socks, but he still didn't want any chance of it breaking. Carter knew it was perfect the minute he saw it laying on the beach, and had even broken the rules by bringing it back with him. It would be worth it, though; Mark had never seen the ocean before, but at least now he could hear it.

Carter crossed the last few feet to Mark's front yard, then threw his bike down onto the grass. Swinging his bag forward, he rummaged around the contents until his fingers grazed soft cotton. He was careful not to pull out Amber's gift too; hers was special and something he wanted to give her privately.

Using the low light from the street lamps, Carter unwrapped the shell and bounded up the front walk. It was past his curfew, and even though his mom had made an exception, he didn't want to push his luck. Carter climbed the steps and ignored warning bells telling him to turn around. He still wasn't sure how Mark would react to his visit, but Carter was already there.

Besides, the present was totally worth it.

Just as he was about to knock, Carter heard the sound of breaking glass. No neighbors were out, so it must've come from inside Mark's house. Still, it didn't stop Carter from knocking. But shortly after, there was a muted smack.

Then, all Carter heard was screaming.

It sent a cold shiver down his spine. He could tell it was a kid from the high pitched shriek that pierced his eardrums, and it was definitely coming from inside.

"Mark?" Carter called. The screaming only continued. No one seemed to hear him. "Mark, it's Carter!" he shouted, smacking his flat hand against the wood. "Is everything okay?"

He was about to start kicking when the door swung open on a petrified Ronnie. Carter had only seen Mark's brother in passing before, but never with the expression he was wearing now.

"What happened?" Carter asked, trying his best to see over Ronnie's shoulder.

"E-Emma broke a bottle," he choked out. Carter didn't know what that meant, but he could tell it wasn't anything good.

The cries were louder without the door to muffle them. Carter pushed past Ronnie into the small foyer, then slapped a hand over his nose. The smell was overwhelming, a sharp, sour odor that made his stomach turn.

"Josie, go upstairs! Ronnie!" Mark called from somewhere in the house. His voice sounded desperate, making Carter's heart pound in his chest. Without thinking, he rushed down the hall and flew into the first room he found.

And instantly wished he hadn't.

The smell was stronger here, permeating through the air like a rancid perfume. Trash covered every inch of the floor, making it hard to see the aging wood below. Carter found Mark, eyes wide with terror, pulling on a woman's arm and barely restraining her. She was bent down low, swiping at something under a table that sat on the opposite wall.

That's when Carter realized who was screaming.

"I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!" A little girl kicked at the woman, trying to keep her away. From this angle, Carter could see Emma cradling her cheek as she fought back.

"Get out here, you little bitch!" the woman shouted, her words wobbly.

"Mom, stop," Mark pleaded, his cheeks wet with tears. Mark hadn't noticed him yet, and Carter watched in frozen terror as he turned to a spot somewhere across the room. "Josie, go upstairs now!"

"Emma!" another girl cried. Carter staggered further into the room and found Josie standing in the kitchen threshold. Bruises littered her exposed arms, illuminated by the stark light coming from behind her. His movements caught her eye, and her chest hitched at the sight of him.

When he turned back to Mark, their eyes locked.

"Carter." Mark visibly paled. His grip on his mother slackened — the wrong thing to do.

Faster than Carter could warn him, Mrs. Anderson ripped her arm free, whirled on Mark, and backhanded him across the face.

"Mark!" Carter shouted as he watched him fall to his knees. The shell slipped through his fingers, landing near the broken bottle at his feet. Jumping over the mess, Carter dashed straight to Mark's side. He tried yanking him upright, but Mark shook him off.

"You can't be here!" Mark's lip was split down the middle, blood staining his teeth.

"Why is she doing this?" Carter yelled. When Emma's screams grew louder, he glanced over his shoulder to find Mrs. Anderson's fingers tangled in her daughter's hair.

"Carter, go," Mark demanded, barreling under the table and disappearing from view. His mother's free hand reared back to slap Emma again.

Before Carter could think it through, he lunged to grab Mrs. Anderson's wrist, so thin that the skin dragged against her bones. He threw his head back from the effort to hold her and found Ronnie standing by the door.

"Ronnie!" He waited until he had his attention. "You have to grab Josie and go upstairs!"

Carter could tell Ronnie was too terrified to move. Under the table, Mark was still working on his mom's fingers, bending them back to get Emma free.

"Ronnie, now!" Mark's voice boomed from the floor, snapping his brother out of it. Through the sweat trickling into his eyes, Carter watched Ronnie hustle across the room and scoop up Josie. Hard as she fought against him, Ronnie didn't slow down, running straight through the kitchen and out of sight.

In the blink of an eye, Mark was back by Carter's side again, gripping his mother's other wrist. A flurry of matted hair tore out from under the table, fast on Ronnie's heels. Without the extra noise around them, Carter could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he fought to keep his grip tight.

"Get the fuck off!" Mrs. Anderson swore, jerking away from them to try and follow Emma. Carter's throat tightened as his hands began to slip.

"Carter, get out of here!" Mark pleaded.

"I'm not leaving you!" Was Mark insane? There was no way he could hold off his mom by himself. Carter wasn't going anywhere, at least, not willingly — but Mrs. Anderson had other plans for him.

With a final tug, she pulled loose from Carter's hands, sending him stumbling back. She ripped Mark off her other arm and pushed him to the ground. Recovering quickly, Carter sprinted toward the kitchen, trying to cut her off before she reached the stairs.

But he felt her catch the strap of his bag before he was yanked off his feet. Flying through the air, he landed hard on his back, knocking the wind from his lungs. He fought to catch his breath, but the pain was almost blinding. Paralyzed, Carter watched as Mark's mom careened after Ronnie and the twins.

As his breath slowly returned, so did the feeling in his arms and legs. Though his bag had taken the brunt of the fall, he'd landed in the pile of broken glass, now mixed with pieces of shattered shell. Both cut into his skin as he struggled to sit up, tears springing to his eyes. He pushed through it as he got to his feet. He had to help Ronnie. He had to help the twins.

"You have to leave!" Mark pushed Carter back towards the front door.

"No, stop, we have to help them!" Carter insisted, fighting against Mark with everything he had.

"Ronnie knows what to do now. They're fine, but you have to get out!"

Mark reached around Carter and ripped the front door open. Jamming him through the entryway, Mark tried to close him outside, but Carter wedged his foot in the door.

"Mark, don't do this!"

"You have to go," Mark repeated. "You have to leave and not tell anyone this happened. Promise!"

"Mark —"

"Promise!"

"Come with me," Carter choked out, tears streaming down his face. "I promise I won't tell, but just come with me. Please, she's going to hurt you again!"

Mark didn't deny it. This close, Carter couldn't miss the dark circles under his eyes that matched the bruises around his collar bone. He'd said Ronnie knew what to do, implying he'd done this before. That she had done this before.

"I can't," Mark yelled, kicking at Carter's foot. Heavy pounding started somewhere above them, and Mark's eyes sharpened in fear.

"Why?" Carter was hysterical now, fighting to keep the space in the door open.

Mark gave Carter a final look, the words nearly catching in his chest. "I can't leave her. She's my mom."

Then, he knocked Carter's foot loose and slammed the door in his face.

"Mark!" Carter threw himself against it, ignoring the pain in his arms as he banged against the wood. "No, Mark, no!"

The door stayed closed and he heard the lock click. Carter stared at it in stunned horror. The whole encounter had lasted less than ten minutes. Completely numb, he stumbled back down the stairs, never taking his eyes off the house. From the sidewalk, he could barely hear the yelling coming from inside. Around him, not a single neighbor stirred.

Every instinct in Carter's body told him to go back inside, to break the door down if he had to, but the idea of it also terrified him. Trembling, he lifted his bike from the ground, the metal frame shaking as he straddled the seat. Helpless and alone, he looked at the house one more time, trying to catch a glimpse of Mark's mom in the window.

Then, left with no other option, Carter ran home to his own.