There's a Family Moving In

Chapter 7

Later that night, at about eleven o'clock, I'm sat on my bedroom floor, legs folded underneath me, trying to sketch out some ideas for my art work but I can hardly concentrate. Alex still isn't home and Sarah and Julia both finally went to bed about twenty minutes ago after pacing the living room for God knows how long. When Sarah came in to say good night tears rimmed her eyes, waiting to drop. I had given her a hug, saying I'd stay up and wait for him to come home. That's how I'd ended up doing work - trying to keep myself focused enough to stay awake.

Frustrated, I throw my sketching pencils across the room, groaning as I slam my head down onto the floor. Lucky I had carpet put down in my room, or that would have seriously hurt. I'm not sure how long I stay in this position; my legs still folded beneath me, with my upper body folded over, head on the ground. After a while I hear the front door open, my whole body shoots up, straight away I start running out of my room, trying to be quiet as I go. When I reach the top of the stairs I freeze, shocked at what I see.

Alex is leaning against the closed front door, panting for breath. His face is battered and bruised, he has a busted lip and his nose is dripping with blood all down his used-to-be-white t-shirt. His shirt is covered in a mixture of blood and dirt, as if he's been rolling around in it for a long time.

I'm too shocked to speak straight away, and also slightly scared. What happened to him? The painful grimace covering his face fills my heart with so much sympathy. He obviously got into a fight, but why? What did he do?

I cough, grabbing his attention. His head snaps towards me with a shock filled gaze.

"What are you doing up? I thought everyone would be asleep by now." His voice started to break off half way through, making it harder to understand what he was saying.

I shrug, "I was drawing." Best to leave out the bit about Sarah, guilt won't help him in anyway right now. "What... What happened to you?" I slowly start to walk down the stairs towards him, stopping only a few feet in front of him. I can smell a faint trace of alcohol on him; he went out to get drunk? "Have you been drinking?" I ask the shock obvious in my tone.

I watch his face for a reaction. The only one is a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if he's fighting off a smile. "I come home completely beaten up, and you're worried about whether I've been drinking or not?" He's still leaning heavily against the front door, walk the few remaining steps between us and take hold of his arm, placing it over my shoulder so I can take some of his weight.

I head towards the kitchen, hoping to clean up some of the blood before it gives Maria a heart attack. I notice there's a slight limp in his step, "Alex, have you twisted your ankle as well?" He doesn't say anything, just gives a slight nod of his head. Once in the kitchen, I help him get onto the worktop. He shuffles backwards until he's leaning up against the wall; I really hope he doesn't get blood on the wall - that would be hard to explain. I grab a dishcloth and a bowl before walking over to the sink. I fill the bowl with warm water and soak the cloth before rinsing it out and leaving it damp. I head back over to Alex to see him slowly falling asleep. "Alex, you have to stay awake" I say, slightly shaking him by the shoulder, "you might have a concussion or something, I can't let you fall asleep just yet."

He slowly opens his eyes properly again, I can just see how much pain he is in. "But Kara, I'm so tired..." Every word is spoken slowly and faintly, I almost didn't hear him. He starts to close his eyes again, "No, Alex. Stay awake." I start tapping his cheek, trying to keep him awake. "Alex, just look at me for a few minutes so I can ask you some questions; I need to see whether you have a concussion or not." He opens his eyes again, frustration and a mixer of pain clear in his eyes. "Just tell me how many fingers I'm holding up." I hold up three fingers, waiting for an answer.