Security Cameras and Memories
1671 Words
✮ a c c a l i a POV✮
After waking up in Jerome's arms the past few days, waking up alone in my room in Edward's apartment is disorientating, to say the least. The room is familiar at least, and the familiar humming of my friend fills my ears, making a smile spread across my face. Rolling onto my back, the grey, flannelette sheets cushion my body and shroud it in warmth. Sighing, I close my eyes for another moment, imagining that nothing has changed over the past two months, and that Jerome got away with killing his mother.
Shaking my head, I push myself out of the bed, cringing as my warm feet hit the cool floor. Padding out to the main room, I lean against my door frame and watch as my friend moves around the small kitchen area of his apartment. The smell of bacon and pancakes reach my nose, and then my stomach lets out a gurgling growl, alerting the riddle man to my presence. All he does is give me a brief look over his shoulder and then turn back to his cooking, chuckles leaving him.
Ignoring him, I walk over to the table and open the laptop sitting there, typing in the password and waiting for the feed to show up on the screen. Coloured rectangles appear on the screen, and I roll my eyes when I see Jerome being an utter i***t practically inhaling his breakfast. Beside him, Aaron slowly and silently eats his food, his eyes downcast and a sad look on his face. Arnold is chattering to himself, a bowl on top of his head, and his food hardly touched. Across from the ginger, Barbara is leaning against my mother, slowly eating her food, and all the while being flirtatious. The cannibal is no better than Jerome with his food, but, in the brunette's case, there is food all over his face and the table.
Edward places a mug beside me, and then a plate. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Accalia. You better eat it."
Looking up at him, I raise my eyebrows.
"Right. Who am I talking to? You love food."
He smiles down at me, his slightly crooked teeth making me grin right back.
"Thanks, Eddy."
Turning away, he pauses when he hears me speak.
"No glasses?" I turn my gaze back to the camera feed. "Broken? Lost? Can't be f****d wearing them?"
He sits across from me and places his plate and mug on the table, clearing his throat. "No. I, uh, have my contacts in today. I wanted to, uh, try something different. Why? Does it look bad?"
"Eddy, I doubt you would look bad covered in trash. You're just one of those people who look good in anything. Just go with it."
A chuckle escapes Edward and a smile grows on my face, my gaze pinned on the camera feed on the screen of my laptop. Watching as the ginger gets up from the table, taking his stuff to the kitchen and washing it, I can't help but think about how normal he seems when he's not in a psychotic mode or mood. Then again, 'normal' is just a social construct that is allowing individuals to persecute others for being different and not following the norms or 'regulations' of 'normalcy'.
Before I know it, both my plate and cup are empty, and my stomach feels bloated. Sighing, I close the laptop and move to the sink, my dirty crockery in hand. Submerging my hands in the borderline scalding water, I close my eyes in relaxation and recline my head back, flickers of pain erupting in my right hand. It washes over me and I feel myself sink into the addictive feeling. The water begins to burn my skin and a small groan escapes my lips, alerting Edward to what I am doing.
Almost instantly, his pale hand encompass my lower arms and pull my hands and wrists from the sink water, his eyebrows knitted together with worry. "What was the meaning of this? Surely nothing recent has pushed you to harm yourself further."
Gritting my teeth, I pull my hands away from him, pressing them to my chest. "Sorry, Eddy. I just..."
"You needed a small release. I get it. Be safe alright?"
"Always."
✮✮✮
Rolling onto my back, a puff of air escapes me. My mind is swimming with memories now that I remember who the other ginger was that I spent the winter months after my eighth birthday. That first day I met them, a strong bond was formed; one that withstood the months apart when they were travelling, and one I never saw an end to. The strange thing was, I wasn't sure that they felt the same way.
✮ e i g h t ✮
✮ y e a r s ✮
✮ a g o ✮
Giggling at the clowns tripping over and hurting themselves, I feel my interest being drawn away from them. My eyes search the tent, and land on a pair of ginger twins. A toothy grin breaks out on my face and, jumping from my seat, I run over to the two. Their vibrant green eyes go straight to me, and a chilling grin appears on the slightly taller ones face, an answering one appearing on mine. Opening his arms, I run straight into them, wrapping my arms around him.
"Little terror," Jerome greets, allowing me to back away in confusion.
"'Little terror'?" I ask, staring up at him.
"Most certainly," Jeremiah informs. "You saved my brother, and, in doing so, you gave our mother a lovely scar. Such a nice job, Accalia."
"I didn't mean to."
Jerome chuckles, sending chills down my spine. "If you didn't, then we're all utterly sane."
Jeremiah rolls his eyes at his twin, turning away and walking out into the winter air. Staring after him, I feel a sickening feeling churning in my gut. It worsens as Jerome grips my wrist and pulls me after him, my legs barely keeping up with his longer strides. People are screaming in happiness, and the gut twisting scent of vomit, candy and smoke makes me gag slightly. Jeremiah's nowhere in sight now, but, as well stop outside his and Jerome's trailer, I can hear the low murmur of a man and woman talking.
"He tried to burn him alive, Lila," the man hisses in anger. "Your son is not safe with that monster hanging around."
The woman, Lila, sighs, sadness evident in her tone. "They're both my children, Zachary. I can't let you take one away."
"Jerome held a knife to Jeremiah's throat not even a week ago. On their birthday!"
The ginger beside me clenches his jaw in anger and his grip tightens on my wrist, causing me to squirm in his hold. He is scaring me. His fire-filled emerald eyes turn to me and he pulls me away from the trailer; away from people; away from witnesses. Out on a small hill, he releases me and kicks the ground, sending dirt flying everywhere. A strangled sound escapes his lips, and it sounds like a mixture of a sob and a cry of anger or rage. Watching him for a moment, I build up my courage.
"Ginger," I murmur, walking over to him and gently taking his hand.
"That bastard wants to take my brother away," Jerome snarls, his voice deep and sinister.
"Did you really hurt him?"
"I didn't do anything to him that he didn't deserve."
I release his hand and step away. "So, you hurt him."
His green eyes look down at me and he sighs. "Listen, little terror, there's a lot you don't know about my brother and I. We're both... not normal; we're weird, and kind of crazy. My brother is not innocent in any of this, and he knows that all too well. He just hasn't been caught."
"Crazy? You don't look crazy."
"That's the bonus, Cali. Us crazy people, we don't look it - and it's not easily found out."
Before I can reply, I catch sight of a man pulling Jeremiah along behind him. My eyes widen and a small cry escapes my mouth. Jerome's eyes follow my line of sight and he lets out a growl of anger. Without hesitating, he runs over to his twin and the man, eyes blazing with anger and protectiveness. Following behind him, my small feet thud against the hard ground and I catch up to him with minimal hassle. Instantly, Jerome's hands grip onto the older man's wrist and tugs him back towards the circus.
Gritting my teeth, I follow his actions. Instead of taking hold of the man, I wrap my fingers around Jeremiah's arm and pull. Jeremiah helps me, his face contorted in pain. A cry escapes Jerome and he tumbles to the ground, clutching his cheek. Anger floods through me like last year when his mother was standing above him, and I launch myself at the man. He curses in pain as I bury my nails into his bare leg, but my victory is short lived. He kicks me off and I land on the hard ground, my shoulder popping out of place.
Without a word, the man adjusts his hold on Jeremiah and continues on his way out of Haley's Circus. Trembling, I manoeuvre my shoulder back into place, letting out a short, sharp scream at the pain that flares. Jerome instantly moves over to me and checks me over for bruises, but his burning green eyes never stray from the shrinking form of the older man that just took his brother away.
"He's not coming back, is he?" I ask in a small voice.
Jerome shakes his head, looking down at me. "No."
"We had so much fun together last year, and we can't even have any this year because he's been taken away."
"I know, little terror. I do. We'll be alright though. I promise."
- Writer
