Somehow, he made it home, cradling the box against his chest, his careful control slipping behind a mask of sweat. As he rolled up the garage door to their home, the smell of something sour blasted his nostrils, causing him to take a step back.

'Jeez,' he muttered, momentarily forgetting his predicament with the package. The room was a mess of broken plates, cutlery strewn on the ground, clothes sprawled between chair and table legs—worse than it usually was. Any normal person might've concluded theft. But Dec knew better.

Adele was home.

"A little help in here?" his sister called from behind the divider to their mum's room.

Dec stiffened. "Mel?" What was Mel doing home? She must've left school early to pick up their mum. But usually the hospital called him first.

He checked his Palm Pod. Two missed calls. Both from the hospital.

Shit.

His body went into autopilot, began the routine it had done so many times before. Leaving his spare shoes, vest, hard hat and stolen package in a pile on the floor just inside the garage entrance, he grabbed the pillows from his bedroom futon and joined Mel between the partitions of Adele's room.

Where he froze.

Mel wasn't alone.

Tommy was with her. And Tommy was standing in his place, holding Adele to her futon with cushions while she moaned and spat, tried to lash out against the restraint of sheets Mel had wrapped like a straight-jacket around her. Dec could tell she was naked from the outline of her body. She must've just had a shower. Her cropped hair, severed at different lengths, was still wet.

Tommy's expression was carefully neutral. But Dec could tell from the exposed whites of his eyes that he was more than a little shocked. Dec's cheeks turned to fire.

"What's he doing here?" he said to Mel, flashing an angry look at Tommy, forgetting all previous thoughts of making amends with his best friend.

Tommy's wide eyes widened even further.

"He's helping me," Mel said. Her voice was strained with exertion from trying to keep the tension in Adele's sheets. "When you didn't answer your phone, the hospital called the front office at my school. I needed someone with a car to pick her up, just in case she ... You know."

Dec knew. The last time they'd taken Adele home by bus, she'd hallucinated and tried to attack a child who was talking too loudly. Dec had restrained her by force, only just, while Mel had injected her with a spare sedative the hospital had provided them for emergencies. They were lucky the parents of the child didn't press charges.

Still, Tommy shouldn't be here. This was between their family and their family only. They didn't need anyone butting in on their business...judging them.

He stepped forward to help Mel hold down the sheets, giving Tommy a not-so-accidental shove with his elbow. "I thought they wanted to keep her in observation."

"They did. They do, but—" Delicately. "Apparently they ran out of ... funds."

Dec pulled the sheets a little harder than necessary and Adele moaned and wriggled in response. He'd completely forgotten to pay Adele's hospital bills, having been too distracted by the severity of her last episode when he'd visited.

It was Mel's turn to change the subject. "Aren't you supposed be at work?"

Dec averted his eyes. "Clocked off early."

Mel frowned. Tommy's wide eyes followed their conversation, rallying back and forth between Dec and Mel like pinballs. Silence stretched out between the three of them. Silence which was, surprisingly, broken by Adele.

"Lemme go," she muttered, tongue snagging on her words. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm..." She licked her chapped lips. "Thirsty."

Tommy straightened. "I'll get her some water."

"No!" Dec and Mel said at the same time.

"They had her on a drip at the hospital," Mel explained. "This is what happens. They think they're thirsty all the time. They over hydrate and it makes them even more sick." She added in a small voice. "She also loses control of her bladder."

"Oh." Tommy glanced nervously at Adele who, thankfully, had stopped mumbling. Her red ringed eyes fluttered closed and her breathing evened into a soft sinus-restricted snore.

"Is she..." Tommy began.

Mel pried Adele's eyelids open and checked her pupils. "Asleep." Relieved. "You don't have to hold her anymore."

Tommy carefully lifted his pillows from her body and cleared his throat. "Er ... is she okay?"

Mel nodded. "She'll sleep for a while."

Tommy glanced from Mel to Dec and back again. "Are you sure?"

Mel gave a half-smile which fell short of her eyes. "Dec's here now. Thanks for ... picking me up from school."

Tommy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Er, well, I'd better get going. Comp tomorrow night."

Mel nodded. "I'll show you out."

Tommy took a step back and cleared his throat again. "It's okay. You guys stay here, just incase she ... " His words trailed. "I can see myself out."

Dec glared. Tommy was reacting just as he'd expected. Uncomfortable. Disgusted. He was probably going to go straight home, call his family back in Quarry Cove and tell them how messed up Dec's family had become.

Tommy stopped at the garage door and turned to Mel. "So ... I guess I'll see you at Smackdown?"

Mel nodded.

It was Dec's turn to do the eye rally between his best friend and his sister. Tommy must've read his warning look for he quickly pulled the garage door open and ducked under, securing it behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Dec rounded on his sister. "What the hell were you thinking bringing Tommy into this?" he said between gritted teeth.

"Jeez, Dec," Mel said. "Tommy's practically family. I needed this help. And anyway, I thought he was your best friend. You're acting like I dragged a complete stranger off the street."

Dec didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to tell Mel how Tommy had killed a stray with a crow bar. He didn't know how to explain exactly how different Tommy had become since the massacres.

So he changed the subject. "You're not going to Smackdown."

Mel ignored him and went to make herself a hot tea, her movements calm and sure, much older than her fifteen years.

"Mel," he said, voice dropping to a growl. "I'm serious. You're not going to that comp." He imagined the look on his sister's face if she saw what happened there. The fights weren't monitored like they were on the projections. People got hurt. People died. If not on the night, then later, from associated injuries. Tommy had once been out for a whole month with severe head trauma, a split lip where his tooth had passed straight through, broken ribs, and a broken foot. Thankfully, Janet had known someone, who'd known someone, who'd patched Tommy up.

Mel unravelled a tea bag from a jar in the cupboard, and set to searching for a clean mug amongst the mess of dishes underneath the kitchen table.

Dec balled his fists and from somewhere deep within his chest, he bellowed, "Mel!"

She spun to face him, cheeks aflame. "What?!"

"I said you're not going."

Mel turned back to the kettle. Though he couldn't see her expression, he could tell from the bunch of her shoulders, she was angry. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Yes, I can."

She whirled on him. "No. You can't."

"Who pays the bills around here?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Dec. You're not my father." Her eyes widened as she said it and she immediately stuttered. "I'm sorry."

But it was too late. Dec stumbled back and steadied himself on the kitchen table. The world waned, narrowed, and the air began to feel thick, like it had turned to liquid. He heaved a breath, but found the oxygen, like water, failed to satisfy. The room pressed in, stuffy and unbearable. Everything was pressing him in and down.

He pulled off his shirt and threw it to the ground, kicked off his shoes and staggered to his room. What as wrong with him? If was as though Mel had physically punched him in all the places that hurt. Flopping onto his futon, flat since his pillows were still on the floor in Adele's room, he closed his eyes, clenched his fists and waited for something to happen—for the walls to crack, or his bed to collapse. Anything that would give tangibility to how he was feeling. Nothing happened and it wasn't long before he began to feel rather foolish. This was Mel. She hadn't meant what she'd said. She was just a teenager.

Eventually, he heard Mel tiptoe in and stand. He could feel her gaze on him as he lay as still as possible, willing her away.

She didn't go.

"Dec?" she said, voice soft and imploring.

He didn't answer.

"Dec?"

The feathery whomp of a pillow hit the corner of the futon next to his head. And then another. Whomp. Still, he didn't move.

Mel was silent for a while. When he still didn't look her way, she brought a steaming mug of tea to his nose, and pressed a sandwich, cut into perfect squares to his lips. He turned his head.

She sighed. "Look. I won't go to Tommy's Smackdown. And I'm sorry I told him about mum. I just didn't realise you were so against the idea of him knowing."

Dec lay very still, eyes screwed shut.

"I'm sorry about the other stuff too," she continued. "I shouldn't have brought up dad."

Dad. The word sounded all wrong. They'd never met the guy, didn't even know his name. He may as well not have existed. So why did the word punch him in the guts every time? It couldn't be normal.

A long silence ensued in which Mel stubbornly refused to leave. The longer she stayed, the harder it was to stay angry at her. She was only fifteen. She'd said sorry, which was more than he would've been able to do at fifteen. It was his turn now. "I'm sorry," he said with a huff. "You can go to Tommy's comp. You can do whatever you want. I just —"

She cut him off. "I know."

Silence again.

"You should eat something," she said. "You look terrible. The 'I've-just-risen-from-the-dead' trend might be in, but you just look like a rotting person in an open casket." He could hear the crackle of amusement in her tone.

"Thanks," he muttered, lips quirking despite himself.

"Anytime." Mel shuffled so that she was sitting next to him and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Dec?" she began, her tone soft, careful.

"Mmm."

"I've been thinking," she said. "Please don't get angry. Just hear me out."

His eyes flew open and he looked at her. "What is it?"

She looked into the mug of tea in her hands, as though searching for her words in the steam. "I was thinking, maybe I could get a job?" She added quickly, "To help with mum's medical bills."

He sat up and studied her expression. Her eyes were dry and her jaw was set in the same stubborn jut Adele used to wear when she was trying to tell them off. It was one of the many expressions his mum and his sister shared. And it usually meant they'd made up their minds about something.

The expression looked all wrong on his sister and he wondered vaguely when she'd stopped painting her nails and going gooey eyed over pictures of cute Southern band boys on the Saturday night music projections. He wondered when she'd grown up. The idea struck a pang of sadness.

"I've been thinking," she continued. "School's kinda getting boring. It's not like I have any friends. You and mum are all I've got. And I want to do something to help."

Dec narrowed his eyes, kept his voice low and steady. "You're not quitting school." He checked himself before he got too 'dad-like'. "We're doing fine. I just forgot to pay the hospital. It slipped my mind. That's all."

"Are you sure?"

Dec struggled to keep his expression steady. He couldn't think. His gut and his rational mind were telling him two different things. Mel had a point. What was he going to do about Adele's medical bills? He'd lost his job. They had no money. And there were things like electricity, water, food that needed to be payed. Even if he hadn't lost his job, they were barely making ends meet. And then there was the small fact of his own health...

No, he wouldn't think about that.

His mind went to the box of luminite, sitting discarded on their living room floor. What if, he wondered. Just a few small packets of the drug would be worth enough to get them through until he could find another job. And if he could sell enough of it, they might be able to get a carer for Adele, incase her condition worsened.

But who would buy it? He didn't know anything about moving drugs. He knew enough to know it would be risky. Possibly dangerous. And his chances of getting caught would be high, especially with Montague following his movements.

He needed someone with contacts. Someone who had reason to be discreet. Someone who could find a place to sell it, to move it, without getting caught.

Lazar.

The name flashed in his mind—from the stupid part of his brain, the same place that had inspired him to steal the package in the first place. But it made infuriating sense. Lazar owned Mansions. He had a customer base. Was a user himself. The trade-off would be of mutual benefit to both parties.

He shook his head. He shouldn't even be considering such a risky move. And he probably wouldn't have 24 hours ago. But now, with Mel threatening to drop out of school ...

"We're going to be fine," he said, steeling his tone with as much certainty as he could muster. "I'm going to call the hospital tomorrow and sort out mum's fees. Right after my pay comes in." My last pay check. He plastered on a smile. "I'll even eat more." He took the sandwich and tea from her grasp and took a large bite. Jam. Delicious. "You'll be calling me fat in no time."

She scrutinised him with narrowed eyes. "You'll tell me if you need my help, won't you?" she said.

He nodded.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Mel's jaw slackened, and she went back to looking fifteen again. Relief swept away his anguish and fear. He was doing the right thing. While he hated lying to Mel, no fifteen-year-old should have to worry about money, let alone everything else they had to deal with: night time living, their mum's sickness, their stupid garage home. When he was fifteen, he and Tommy were going to house parties, getting drunk and hooking up with girls. Well, Tommy had hooked up with girls. Dec had lived precariously through his recounted stories the next day.

He forced the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He felt better after that. He hadn't realised just how hungry he was.

"Another one?" Mel said, eyeing Dec as he picked the breadcrumbs from his t-shirt and popped them in his mouth.

He smiled. "Thanks." Gladness swelled in his chest, but was cut short by another pang of sadness. It was what Adele used to do when they were stressed or tired, or just being rotten. A hot drink and a sandwich. So simple, and yet it hadn't happened in such a long time.

While Mel went to the kitchen to make more sandwiches, he crept to the door and returned with the pile of his belongings, making sure to keep the stolen package carefully concealed. Fishing out an old jumper from his cupboard, he wrapped the box inside and pushed it under his futon, against the wall where it had the least chance of discovery. He'd find a better place for it later. But for now...

His mind turned over what he had to do next. To move the drugs, he would need to get in contact with Lazar. And to do that, he needed Tommy. He rubbed his temples where a dull ache was beginning to settle between his eyes.

It looked as though he'd be going to Smackdown after all.

Stay away from the man in the ravat. I've seen what he can do. Rain's words drifted into his mind. He pushed them away and went to the kitchen to help Mel with the sandwiches.