GHOST - IT [1]

FOURTEEN.

Impending doom fell upon Jaime as she rode home that night, wondering if she would ever get a wink of sleep after today. The trees surrounding her neighborhood seemed to loom menacingly over her, threatening to enclose her in a leafy prison. She rushed home, thighs burning as she peddled down the road.

However, as she turned down the block to her house, she couldn't help but hear...shouting. Screaming. Fighting. She thought it was coming from the woods near her home, but it got closer as she turned the corner...

There, she could see it. Henry Bowers, pinned to her front lawn, face bloody. Hovered above him was Victor, his hair deranged and his teeth grit. His fist came in contact again, and again, and again with Henry's face. Each time, a sickening noise producing from the contact, forming scar after contusion after dent. Jaime's heart had pretty much fallen out of her body and hit the ground below. She pushed her bike to the ground and sprinted forward, screaming obscenities and anything she could to get the situation to halt.

"Victor!" She called over and over. He looked up right as she slowed to a stop in her lawn, his fist bundled in Henry's shirt and his other fist in the air.

"J-Jay." He mustered out. "You aren't supposed to be here..."

She pulled him by his shoulder. "What the fuck are you doing, Victor?"

Victor looked at his younger sibling with wide eyes. Now, they looked identical to each other; they both hosted the same worried and dreadful gaze.

"I...he hurt you, Jaime, more than once." He wheezed, falling back onto the grass and using his shoes to kick himself away from Henry, who still laid there, bleeding out and barely even conscious. Despite this, Jaime hovered down to meet his half-lidded glare.

"Get out of here, Henry. Now." She spat. He nearly rolled into the street as he forced himself to his feet and wearily stood.

"I'll fucking kill you, Victor. You t-too, little bitch." He spat pure blood into their lawn before stumbling off like a zombie, presumably to go find his car. His threat hung uncomfortably in the air, like there was some sense of truth to it.

Jaime knelt down next to her brother. His eye was forming a deep black circle and a cut bled out on his cheekbone. He was a pure, raw, animalistic mess, but somehow, the love radiating from him was pure and backed by good intentions. Even if he had acted impulsively and irrationally.

"Come on. You need to clean up before Dad comes home." She grabbed his hand and helped him to his feet, then lead him into their home.

-

"I just wanna know, why?" Jaime asked finally. She was seated on top the bathroom counter, holding a damp washcloth to Victor's cut. He avoided eye contact, like always.

"You're not gonna like this." He mumbled. Those words sent her stomach in knots, though she persisted.

"Tell me. Please." She begged. He sighed heavily.

"Well, he had the fucking audacity to boast about some rock fight he had with those kids. And you were there. I asked him if he had hurt you, and he said not intentionally. Belch made some sick fucking joke about-" He halted. And Jaime saw...a tear slip down his cheek. It rolled so slowly, like it was bombasting about its very presence.

"About doing horrible things to you. Henry got all red-faced, that's when I knew it was true. Then, lo and behold, Dad came home after he had gone out looking for you and said Tozier said Henry had tried something on you the other day. Dad was about to beat the shit clean out of Henry, but then he got called into work. He probably consulted Henry's dad about it. Anyway, I just...I've never been so angry, Jay." He admitted, now holding a proper stare with her. "Not when Mom fucked over our family, not when that one bitch Regina Matthews cheated on me in eighth grade, not when Dad decided he needed to fight crime." Victor shook his head, his entire face now blotched and his eyes bloodshot. Jaime ran the washcloth over cold water before applying it to his rosy cheeks.