Two days passed and I didn't go to their place, nor did they come to me. For the entirety of the two days, I sat at home and chain-smoked a bag of marijuana with Bird. On day two we invited some people to join the party, but they left early so it was just us again. One thing I thoroughly enjoy these days is just doing nothing. I haven't had an actual job in forever, I haven't had any type of romantic relationship with anyone, and I don't really have any hobbies. I just exist, sort of. And frankly, I don't really see an issue with that. I don't mind being at home all day doing nothing, only getting up when I feel like it; only eating because I don't want to die, It's not as bad as people play it off to be.

Today, however, was a different case. I was supposed to visit my mother. She usually smells either alcohol or drugs on me, so I take a day off before I visit her, but I couldn't really do that. It felt like I dug myself in so much shit that I just needed those two days. I needed those two days of relaxation and pure, ignorant bliss. And, if she does smell the narcotics on me then I can't really do anything at that point, and I really don't care. She is well aware of what I'm doing, and I don't see myself changing any time soon. She has been on my ass about it though, which is why I really try to let it off before I visit her-- I can't stand to hear her argue with me.

My mother lived on the poor side of town--well not poor, just not as rich as the rich side of town. almost in the middle. According to them, it's where all the thugs and thieves abide. They've never actually been back here, but they are 100% they are right about what they think of this place. Granted we don't necessarily prove them wrong, but why should we? They should mind their own business.

I walked up the front steps to my mother's porch and then entered the house. The first thing I heard was the blasting of the cartoon Dexter's Laboratory and I knew my sister was home. She's seven years old and into all cartoons--she doesn't discriminate. Her straight, black hair fell down her back and moved just slightly as she laughed at the television screen.

"Hey, Nicky." She instantly turned around, forgetting Dexter and Deedee and rushing to me. She hugged my legs tightly. "Danny! I missed you!" she said in a muffled tone. I smiled and lifted her off the ground--don't ask how I managed--and held her on my waist, so her face was at mine. I kissed her cheek. "I missed you too, Nic."

"Moms making cookies for me. She says I can take some to school tomorrow and give some to my friends. But I think it's unfair because they never bring cookies for me." I smiled at her but she just pouted. The little girl looked nothing like me or our mom, and the same went for me and Mom. Nicola was adopted at age three and I was adopted when I was eight months old. My parents are the only parents I've ever known so that's how they are treated. My mother was always the best mom you could think of. She really went all out for us, I just couldn't see it when I was going to school. I was rebellious and I treated her like a son should not treat his Mother. I've apologized multiple times to her and every time she would tell me "It's Okay" although we both know it wasn't.

I walked into the kitchen and found my mother slaving over a ball of dough. She didn't even seem to notice us in the kitchen until Nic shouted out to her. She rose her head saw me and began to grin. She rested down the cookie cutter and then walked toward me. She embraced me in a tight hug, with Nicola between us. She then held my face and kissed my forehead.

"Danny, honey, I missed you." She said. I put down Nicola and she ran off back into the living room. "Mom, we see each other every two weeks," I chuckled. On a cooling rack were about a dozen chocolate chip cookies, and I reached out to take one, hoping they weren't hot, as I spoke to my mother.

"Well, I still miss you. It's really very lonely without you here, you know." My mother said. She went back to flattening the dough to get different-shaped cookies. I stared at her as she worked and I thought about my Dad. How could she be lonely with him here? Well, the answer is simple. He is basically a shell of a person. He works all day, comes home, eats, and sits in front of the television until it's time for bed. Most of the time he sleeps out there. When Nic is at school, and my dad is at work, there isn't anyone else for her to turn to at home. I can understand her loneliness, but I've told her countless times she needs to start going out more. 

"Yeah.." I muttered. "Oh, I got you something," I said and reached into my back pocket without waiting for her reply. I took out a wad of cash which I had in my drawer back home just for her. I passed it to her and mentally prepared myself for her denying it only to accept it in the end.

"Honey-"

"Mom, it's just paper. Take it." I say.

"I can't."

"You can. Nicola could use some new clothes and so could you, frankly." I said with a shrug. Every time it's the same thing with her. She is too humble sometimes. She shook her head at me as she stared down at the money. "Mom, just take it and move on. Can I have some of those?" I asked and pointed at the cookies. She giggled softly and shook her head but then said, "Yes, son." I nodded and took up about five cookies. I walked out to the living room and plopped down next to Nic. She instantly took a cookie from my hand and I let her. She leaned into me as we both stared at the television screen. I'm not a huge fan of this dumb cartoon but she's pretty annoying when she doesn't get what she wants.

After I left my mom's place to live on my own I decided I should come back every two weeks, just to make sure everything was okay with her and Nicola. They are the only two people who actually matter in my life and I can't lose them to this stupid neighborhood or anything like that. My dad and I aren't really that close, but whatever I give to my mom he obviously gets.

He's never home when I'm there which is a good thing. We usually just have awkward conversations that I have no problem with just skipping. He doesn't like me and I can easily notice it, so why should I really wait around for him to get back? See, no reason.

At the end of the day, I left my mom's place. Nicola hugged me tightly and mom hugged me tighter. Then we all let go and I left them. They went back to their TV watching and my feign oasis was gone. It felt good for the day not to think about what I did and how I was going to pay for it.

I don't regret it. I still think the snitch deserves a beating. This time I'll be smarter to leave the damn country after it's over.

——

I knocked on their door three times. I tried opening it before I knocked but they had their door locked--obviously. I was left standing outside their fancy house and staring around the front lawn. It's perfectly cut--nothing like ours; our lawn is barely a lawn, it's just a bunch of weeds sticking out. Weeds that are turning brown. The 'lawn' looks like a balding scalp. Their lawn is full and thick and looks healthy and bright green. They have a tiny garden in front, just behind their American picket fence. I can't imagine any of them gardening at all, not even the female in the house. She looks so tough.

I heard the door open and I turned around to see Kol, the missed twin standing and cocking an eyebrow at me. I smiled as I looked down at his shirtless body. If only he wasn't wearing pants as well. I pulled in my bottom lip as I stared at his perfectly toned chest. Then finally, I looked into his eyes. He was angry. As usual. I'm glad he's handsome, I mean, if I must do this nonsense, I should at least have something to look at while I'm hear. And this guy was the perfect view. 

"Hello, beautiful." I continued to smile, despite his obvious scowl. He opened the door further to let me. I ran my finger down his chest, but he slapped my hand away. "Don't touch me." Ouh Feisty. He's so entertaining.

"Oh come on. This whole 'don't touch me' act is extremely tiring." I rolled my eyes at him. "My brother's upstairs. You can go." He nodded his head in the direction of the staircase which led upstairs. 

"Stop pretending, babe." I winked at him and then turned to walk away. He shoved me along and was walking behind me. Why are they so rough? He walked behind me as if I was some kind of prisoner, being escorted to his prison cell. 

They had an obnoxious staircase, taking all the attention away from everything else in their mini foyer. The staircase ended at a balcony that went off in two directions. He led me left. I don't understand how they could live in such a large house--half the things in this place are useless. The place was nice though. It was modern, and it seemed sophisticated. I won't expect someone like their brother, Trump Jr, to be living in a place like this. It calls for upper-class people. 

He pushed me into the second room on the corridor; his injured twin's room. His bedroom was simple. It was painted in a deep navy blue color, with all the necessary furniture along the walls, so that there was a large amount of space in front of the bed. He was sat up in his bed, covered up to his waist by thick dark sheets, staring at the flat screen television in front of him on the wall.

I stepped into the room slowly, half expecting him to throw a vase at my head. He's not as physically violent as his brother but I'm certain he is mentally. He'll probably make my time here the worst ever. His twin left me in the room after that and closed the door. I wasn't even sure when he left, but when I was alone in the room with this guy, I felt it.

I took one step further inside the room. His eyes were on mine. He was staring at me with complete hatred--just like how his other relatives looked at me. His gaze was intent. And I didn't really know what to do about that. I just stood in the corner and stared for a while. I don't know how to speak to him. I have to admit I do feel a bit guilty for what happened, now that I'm standing in his bedroom, staring at his bruised and battered face. 

The anger in his eyes is palpable, burning with an intensity that could ignite a room. Lines of anger and frustration etch across his forehead, accentuating the scars that snake their way along his temple and cheekbone. These scars are a stark reminder of his assault, evidence of the pain he endured. His nose, once perfectly straight, like his twin's, now bears a slight deviation, another reminder of the altercation that left him scarred. As he continues to stare at me, the tension in the room is evident, a silent testament to the emotions that course through him.

He was right. Whatever sick plan he had, or whatever twisted outcome he had thought of, it just might come through because right now, as I stand staring at this damaged boy, all I feel is a pang of guilt.

"Well, I'm here.." I said awkwardly and finally decided to take another step forward. His eyes scanned my body up and then down.

"You don't seem to have an inch of remorse in your puny body," he said coldly. I cocked an eyebrow at him. I may need to check a mirror because I do feel guilty -- merely spending five minutes in the same room with him feels like punishment enough; I am ready to leave,

Honestly, I didn't anticipate him being so bitchy. Typically, you'd expect to find a nice twin and an unpleasant one, but it appears that in this family, all of them lean toward the latter category.

"Okay. Well, so what? What do you want from me?" I asked and folded my arms over my chest. I found myself compelled to maintain a facade, to be on the defensive. It seemed imperative not to let my guard down because these individuals, quite frankly, aren't nice towards me, and I couldn't fathom why I should expose myself to them by lowering my defenses. Granted, I do understand where that hatred for me came from, obviously. But they seem rude regardless.

"For god sake, at least pretend to care. At least act like someone who's capable of taking responsibility. How old are you?"

"I don't have to tell you anything. I'm only here because a part of me doesn't want to go to prison. Although I could get a pretty good lawyer and fight you in court." I'm no good with lawyers, or anyone on the right side of the law to be honest. I couldn't get a lawyer even if I paid him a million bucks--which I don't even have.

"A good lawyer?" he scoffed. "How do you expect to even pay for that? If we were to go to court, you'd end up in prison for the rest of your sorry life." He sneered. Overconfident rich boys. I leaned against a free part of the wall of his bedroom and folded my arms over my chest. I stared at him and he did the same. He doesn't back down. His confidence isn't feigned; he doesn't bluff.

"It doesn't matter. I don't do lawyers and shit. Where I'm from that's not how we settle things." I said to him.

"You're full of such crap," he said and shook his head. I didn't bother to reply to him. Talking to him makes everything go slower, believe it or not. I walked around the room slowly and much to my surprise he didn't say anything that would make me feel to get Bird to snap his neck. His desk was boring. He had nothing personal. Nowhere in his bedroom had anything that was personal--no pictures or a journal or even a baseball cap from as a child. He has nothing of the sort. It's like he is just floating through this earth like a phantom, without any feelings for anything. It's all so plain--clear desk, clear drawer tops, clear bedside table. It's no wonder he is okay with me looking around.

"Get me some water," he said when I turned around slowly after looking around his bedroom. This guy has nothing. Yeah, he's surrounded by people who claim to love him, but that's all they are to him--people who claim to love him.

I nodded obediently to his request then turned to walk out of his bedroom to get him some water.