20: victorious (warning: this chapter gets very emotional and violent towards the end. if you're not a fan of cussing, I advise you to not read.)

   HOLLY is kicking ass. Winona's, to be more specific. She has been boxing for the past month, it was the only way for her to let her frustration out; sexual and mental. Her heart is burning all of the time, and the only way to make it numb is to get stronger physically, because on the inside: she is slowly combusting and there is a fire growing, she cannot stop it.

    "Angry, today, aren't you, love?" says Winona, spitting into a small bucket near them. She fixes Holly's gloves and watches her hit as they've practiced.

    Holly doesn't answer, because all she can see is Walt. She sees him being trailed by Ana as if he is a little dog, she sees him barely look at her anymore, she sees him forgetting about her. Out of all the days in this blossoming year, this is the one that makes her burn, because Walt, today, was hell.

   After waking up and realizing she had kissed him, she ingrained the thought that he didn't see her in that way in her brain. He didn't reciprocate her feelings for him, even though she liked him. A lot. More than she'd liked anyone else. That thought came to her rescue when he sat with Ana at lunch, and stayed with her friends, the nicer jocks who watched him get beat up.

    Ana is a bitch, she knew that for certain from the first time she saw her. Walt was brainwashed by a witch and refused to get better. He was like a lost puppy worshipping a queen. He followed her everywhere, took in every feature of hers when she spoke to him, kissed her as if she was Princess Peach.

   For every kiss she sees flashing before her eyes, she hits harder; pushes her muscles to limits they never reached. Holly isn't in love, she tries to remind herself. She isn't in love with this Walt. Her Walt doesn't push her away, her Walt doesn't stop calling her, her Walt doesn't change for a girl. Then again—did she ever really know him?

    The boy she knew wouldn't watch someone get pushed to the ground, books fallen, and do nothing. He wouldn't stare for just a moment then walk away. He could help, she knew that. He could've gone to help the freshman, or even stopped the bullies. These talking buffoons were all shorter than him, and she knew of his thicker arms, his sturdy stomach. He could've told them to stop.

   Instead, he walked away. And with every step he took, Holly felt her heart break. No, it didn't break—it hardened. A broken heart was for the weak, a heart of stone was for those who wanted to live. She went to help the freshman, of course. She stepped closer to the small girl's body and pointed one finger into the main asshole.

   "Come close to her again," she felt her breath get cold, "and I will make sure you don't graduate. I'm sure the school board would love to know that their favorite soccer meathead has been cheating on the past five exams."

   His eyes narrowed, and Holly had to stop herself from breaking his nose right there and then. "You have no proof," he said.

   "Don't tempt me," she tried to remember his last name, but realized she didn't care enough about him to know. "The day you come near her again will be the last you spend in this school."

   Holly wasn't surprised that he left. She had realized, a long time ago, that her eyes were magnetizing. She could get anyone to do what she wanted by staring them down and threatening them. She felt power doing so, invincible. She couldn't fight people's battles for them, but she could help them stand on their feet. So, she helped the girl up and gave her a few pointers on how to defend herself. Telling an adult would've been pointless, the education here was as full of the shit as the students.

   "I asked you a question," says Winona, bringing her back to reality. Holly focuses on Winona's face for a second, and still marvels at her complete detachment from love. Winona seemed soft, but she was the best warrior Holly had ever known, aside from herself.

   "I'm fine," she stops, takes her glove off and sprays water all over herself. She prepares herself to start again, but Winona holds her wrist.

   "Enough. You won't be able to move tomorrow. Come back in two days."

    "I don't want to. I'm good, are you tired?"

    "No," Winona's eyes shone and she smiled, "but you are. Either you tell me what's bothering you or you go home."

    Holly considers it: talking to someone about her feelings and letting it all out. Then again—every time she did so, she ended up trusting too much and getting hurt. "I'll see you in two days," she picked up her bag and left.

-

    4 a.m.

    Waking in the middle of the night was a rare occurrence—it only happened when Edward wasn't home, or rather when he was. Loud banging was heard on the door, and Meredith's sleep-deprived figure went to open up. He was shouting and shouting, knocking over small accessories that Holly bought in hopes to make this inch of an apartment feel like home.

   Holly woke up the minute he walked in, because she knows that hell is about to break loose. He is either drunk or high, and she has warned him a million times not to mix both. She runs out to the living room in shorts and a shirt of Meredith's, observes her brother's behavior.

   "I don't wanna sleep," he tells Meredith, who suddenly seems very small against him. "Leave me alone, Mer. Just leave me alone."

   "Ed, please. Just come with me to the bathroom, wash your face and I'll get you some water," she tries to grab his hand, but it kept slipping from her hold. He's talking and talking, spitting out sentences that Holly can't quite catch, under her sleepy state.

   It didn't take her long to understand that he mixed both substances, just by the way he wobbles when he walks and his very red eyes. Holly's impatience runs out when Ed's walking almost causes Meredith to fall. She catches her aunt's figure, who too tired to be angry. Working an eleven hour shift and dealing with an unstable nephew isn't what she signed up for, when she volunteered to help her sister. Meredith can't bear to watch her niece fall apart just to keep others together, not anymore.

    But Holly's anger is fueled by her brother's insouciance to everyone but himself. She grabs the nearest water bottle and empties its contents on him.

   "Wake up, Ed. Get your shit together," she sputters.

   "Why, huh? Why should I, Holls? I'm a piece of shit anyway, I don't need this fucking life. I need to feel good, would you just let me feel good? Stop being such a fucking buzzkill."

   He doesn't realize that he is half of her sister's heart, that she'd die to keep him safe, healthy and taken care of. He doesn't realize that she saw their dad overdose when she was twelve, saw the foam bubbling in his mouth and life exit his body.

   "I love you," she tells him, in a way that implies that she hates him. She isn't seeing straight, and she can feel every fiber in her exploding. "I don't want you to be like this. You're better than this. We did not lose our parents for you to be like this, Ed. You're not Dad, you are not him," she gets closer to him with every word. "You're going to be okay, we'll get you help—"

   Just as he seems to be softening at the touch of her hands on his arm, a bubble of irritation implodes inside of him. "Don't you fucking see, Holland?" he is shouting now, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. "I'm Dad. I am him, I am an asshole. You've got to get over the sick idea that I'm some good guy, all right? Fuck off," he throws her to the ground with such force that Holly hears something break in her body, maybe it was her heart. His gaze widens when he realizes what he has done, and he goes weak.

    Her stomach is throbbing, her heart is throbbing, her vision is throbbing. She can't hear anything anymore, not her brother's clumsy breathing, not Meredith's gasps. She has gone deaf, but she sees red.

   It doesn't take her ten seconds to push Edward into the bathroom, which can barely fit both of them. Her words could cut through diamonds. "You are not our father, you are not our mother. You're going to get your shit together, because I'm done pretending like you're a kid. You look like a man, act like it," she turns on the shower head and stuffs her brother's head under it.

   "I don't try to save every penny for myself, Edward, it's all for your dumb ass. If I don't get three meals a day, it's for you. Get your shit together and be a man."

   He soon stops struggling and steps into the shower alone, as she closes the glass door of the stand behind her. Still fully clothed, he hears the sound of the water hit him. She walks out and wipes her hands on her shirt.

   She grabs her coat and phone, doesn't look at Meredith, at anything when she gets out of the building. It is only when she gets on the front stairs of the building that she falls onto the first steps and starts crying.

-

i get strange pleasure out of making my stories filled with angst. HAPPY NEW YEAR BABES! till next time. also, from here, the story just spirals negatively so if violence/mention of drugs aren't for you...

love you! all!