My palms are a mix of dried blood and runny sweat.

I squeeze them again and again as if that will somehow get rid of my anxiety. My gashes are still bleeding, though they've clotted up somewhat. The slow trudge through my quiet little neighborhood has never felt this dreadful. The crisp breeze does little to calm me down. I can see figures in windows; Kids get ready for school, adults ready for work, and misfits get ready for who knows what. I try to distract myself but to no avail.

My physical injuries are nothing compared to the pain I feel in my head. I can't help but imagine what's going to go down as soon as I get home. If I'm lucky, I can lock myself in the bathroom before total chaos hatches. If I had anything other than stubs, I'd be biting my fingernails. 

Sooner or later, I'm going to have to face her...and her mom-like care.

By the time I reach the house, my insides are like knots. I knock on the door.

"Vivvy?" I say. "It's me; I'm back from the market. Got some . . . stuff."

The door creaks open, her hand peeling the wood back. The light catches the uneven bits of her nails. Then, it catches her hair when she pops her head forward. She gasps. I groan.

This is going to be fun to explain.

"What happened?! And don't tell me nothing."

Her eyes are stern. I look away, opening the door fully and pushing past her. The floorboards creak as I move towards my room. She's going to ask questions. I'm probably not going to answer. We have school in a half an hour, after all. Can't be late.

"Micha, talk to me."

Her voice quiets as I move towards the top of the stairs. Even so, I can hear her tapping her foot anxiously. I know it's awful to get her thrown into worry, especially this early in the morning, but it's not like I can control when dumbasses are going to show up. 

I grunt all the way down the hallway until I reach my destination. I shake my head, slamming the bathroom door shut. Our bathroom is small, containing your basic stuff. A mirror, bathtub, dirt staining the floor, and our old wooden cabinet. Just what I'm looking for. I rummage through its contents. My fingers slip over extra clothes, towels, and who knows what else, but I find nothing of use. Where are those bandages? We should have them somewhere...

Knock, knock

She opens the door before I answer. I groan. My hand slams the cabinet without my permission, creating a dramatic bang. I can see her seep into the doorway. There's something in her hands. White, the ends swaying. It's gauze. Guess I've found it...

"You're going to need some of this."

She half-smirks, holding up the bandages like some sort of peace offering. I take them without waiting, applying bits to my face. It's sticky. The fabric stinks of old pain medication. Yuck. Vivvy takes over, pressing her fingers across the bandages. Her skin feels cold, a little clammy. I attempt to get her to go away. She refuses to budge, insisting on helping me.

My sister's a strange girl. Quiet, yet somehow the cornerstone of her tight-nit, large group of friends. Really weird too, with the exact same features as me. She's basically Micha 2.0 female edition. Oh, and also? Obsessed to the point of annoyance with Elton. That can make things complicated around the home.

"We have school in a half an hour," I say. "No, scratch that- twenty minutes. And you're not even out of your night gown! C'mon, go get ready. I can finish up."

"Are you sure? Your face looks like a half-rotten potato."

"Shush."

We laugh a little. She begins to slip out of the room, brushing tangled hair from her face. I sigh, finishing up her 'top notch' first aid.

"Was it...Elton?"

"Yup."

I hear the door slam shut, prompting another sigh. She shuffles behind it out towards her room. I look in the mirror. Besides the obvious, I'm already ready for school. Just need to grab my pack and some funds for lunch. I splash some water on my face, scrubbing off the last bits of dried blood. It disintegrates between my fingers in clumps. I flick it off, exiling it down the drain.

The twenty minutes feel like flashes that I hardly remember. I run to my room, zipping in to pick up my pack. Or something like that. I  hear Vivvy, already downstairs. I know we're going to have to run; Might as well start now. I retrace my steps until I'm at the door. Vivvy is already there, impatience in her eyes. We lock up and bolt. There's still a pit in my stomach.

I'm not sure I'm going to be able to handle three more hours of Elton.