Goodbye Old Life
1120 Words
VICTORIA'S POV
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"You..." Jax raises to his feet with a grunt, glaring at Wystan with a promise of hurt flashing across his eyes. A look I've seen in his eyes while playing, a look that usually has the other team's players running in the opposite direction or approaching with caution.
"Jax," His sister hisses in warning, face scrunching with worry, and when Jax's eyes flick to me, meeting mine in a burning rage, my spine straightens with burning tension.
"Don't look at her like that," Wystan warns, stepping sideways towards me, as if to shield me. Jax looks at my brother, recognition filling his narrowed eyes.
"You think she might get nothing, but I'm here to tell you right now that my lawyers will make sure she gets what she deserves, if not everything, if you fight us." My brother warns, looking so much like our dad, sounding like him too.
"Wystan...Let's go," I murmur. I don't want to be here. I shouldn't have come back.
"You are?" Jax asks condescendingly, and I can't believe that he forgot who my brother is. We've been married for years, and he doesn't know who's standing before him. He doesn't recognize my brother after that threat he had made so many years ago before I cut my family off.
"Your. Worst. f*****g. Nightmare." Is all my brother says through gritted teeth before he turns, gesturing for me to walk in front of him.
"Vick," Jax hisses my name when I turn my back to him. Stopping dead in my tracks, I slowly turn my head, glancing at him over my shoulder with raised brows. He has never looked at me like the way he is now.
"Take your things," He insists, disgust lining his face. I hold his stare, letting that awful look burn into me and savor it. I savor the feeling of ice coating my heart as I behold the man I loved, the boy who was kind now replaced by a cold-hearted man who lost feeling in his hands over countless fights. A man who used to carry me on those said hands, and I let the realization splinter into my flesh-- he never loved me. He loved what I could do for him, how far I could take him.
"Burn it," I shrug and walk out of the door, leaving my shattered heart on the floor. Wystan follows without another word, which I am grateful for. I'm sure he's thinking that I'm insane for leaving everything I own, for every piece of clothing that I had worn the last few years with my hard earn money, but it's just clothes-- clothes of a life that I no longer want part of, It's material with memories, and I'm ready to move on.
Walking to the car in silence slowly became tense with every side long glance that Wystan shot my way. His gaze held wariness and concern, and I so badly want to ask what he's staring at-- to snap at him to stop giving me that pitiful look, but I know he's going to ask then, why I did that-- and my answer will disappoint him. Although my brother works for my dad and has a great salary, he doesn't show it a lot. He has nice clothes and a fancy car, but I can find him at any normal pub with a cheap beer and a smile.
That's what I love about him, how low maintenance he is. He's like me, and less like our parents who would scrunch their face in front of the owner of a pub. Getting into the car, the small box feels hot, and not because of the sun baking it, but because of his gaze burning into the side of my face. Wystan doesn't start the car, or move to do so. Sighing, I turn my head at a angle, merely glancing at him. Here goes nothing.
"What?" The word rolls from my tongue in a breathy whisper.
"Everything?" He asks in disbelief, eyebrows raised, lips slightly parted-- that same disapproving look I've gotten over a thousand times in my life. Looking past him at the house, I feel nothing.
"It's not my life anymore, not my house, not my clothes." My gaze drags back to his, eyes feeling heavy. To my surprise, Wystan merely nods, understanding glowing in his eyes before he starts the car, driving off, away from the hostile home I didn't know I was living in until this week.
"Thanks," I finally say with a thick voice as my emotions fight with my mind.
"For what?" Wystan asks, hand casually on the wheel, sitting back, looking very relaxed as if he hadn't just punched someone. The hand he punches with is relaxed in his lap, knuckles red and raw. He flexes his fingers, letting them curl slowly as he moves them with unease.
"Coming with me." I take a pause, "And understanding," I murmur, feeling the weight of my appreciation push down on my chest, stinging my eyes. Why did I ever leave my family? Why did I push my brother away?
"I don't understand," He admits, scoffing, head shaking with a slight smile playing on his lips, his eyes filled with confusion.
I stare at him agape, cheeks burning red. He glances at me, one quick look that locks our eyes, and then he bumps my arm with his elbow.
"But I respect your choices." He adds, smoothing over the burning of my heart. Choices.
"Were you mad?" I ask, knowing he'd understand without me having to explain myself further.
"I was mad at Dad." He sighs, not angrily, but impatiently, as if those feelings had resurfaced.
"Why?" I push, confused. Why would he be mad at Dad? Wynstan gives me a 'are you serious?' look before saying, "Because he could have shut up for once and just support you."
My heart explodes, tears swelling in my eyes while my teeth grind together as I try to stop them.
"He's not like that..." After what he and mom had said...I still can't help but stand up for them.
"Neither of them are, but they could have done that one simple thing for you, their daughter." Crossing one ankle over the other, I stare at my hands in my lap, wondering if they even considered doing such a simple thing that was so out of the ordinary for them. I lift my gaze to the road ahead, watching the cars drive past.
"I don't want to go home right now," I tell him as we pass the mall's first entrance, "We're not," And Wystan turns into the underground parking area, "I'm taking you shopping."
- Writer
