damned and in control {nevah & enzo}

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

n e v a h

Not one step further but two steps back.

Nothing is stable anymore, a disappointing event has taken its toll and now I must endure the aftershocks. Bronze sits where gold should reside and there is a shadow of dissatisfaction. Not good enough. There was no joy on that podium, just the words of my father even though he wasn’t there, I could hear him. Into the dirt I go, not even good accompanies me. Bottom of the list now, there is no love in his eyes anymore, all his attention to the little brat. Down in the dirt, here I am, with bad company. I am not compared to Newt anymore, we’re just parallels.

No amount of effort can turn his attention to me, not even eye contact at the dinner table, he relies on little Niven now to carry on his damned legacy. His twins, incompetent and cast away. Retched man, there is no way Niven can ever be on par with me. He set the bar too high but I am hanging on, both hands grip tightly; Niven is not even big enough to reach. A spoiled brat that has never worked a hard day in his life, success has been my gain; he has just had it delivered to him.

A clean and obeyed life, every rule I have taken on, unlike the broken one-eyed donkey with his smokers lungs. Not even a single congratulations when I came home with the medal. I have done as father told me for years and I see no rewards. All the control has gone, from him anyway. A wasted life or the chance now to do whatever the fuck I want?

No more dictated days, I am fucking free to do as I please. Frustration lingers in this house from my father now but I have had to endure the depressive motion from Newt for seventeen years, I am immune to people’s distractive emotions. Hatred fills my blood, not for Newt; there is nothing to feel for that cast away but a father I once admired and his new little protégée.

Could have been me.

Thank fuck it wasn’t.

An empty house to myself, not even mother spreading the foul stench of her cooking. Newt is probably out filling his lunges with poison and father has likely taken his new pet for a walk. All my invitations for a party ignored, fake friends that followed me for my glory. Well fuck them, I can find better people.

Days have been lonely in the training centre, not even the Krearns cousins have looked me in the eye. It is embarrassing; a small few have stuck around, the mediocre ones. Not truly fit for being friends but at least they are company, I don’t want be seen like my loner twin. Not that I have even seen him for a couple of days. Father has not enquired about his whereabouts, probably relieved that the trash has finally been disposed of. He has likely ran away, no idea how is to survive out there alone with his one eye. Another two days and he’ll be back, looking decomposed.

I raid the cupboards, father will not be pleased to see empty whiskey bottles in the kitchen, oh fucking well. Newt has his own poison, I might as well have my own, add to the taste of disappointment to my father’s tongue. Mother’s wine looks appealing too, she can clean the stains from my clothes. No, the whiskey I will take and the fruit pie my father wanted to save for himself tonight. I’ll blame the kid.

I take the gifts to the living room and sit in the comfy chair, shattered rules, no wonder my father claimed this for himself. My feet rest on the table, oh how I’d like to see the horror on his face. So pathetic I was, a mask of an obedient child when inside, the bitter me longed to spit in his face.

Oh dear, I forgot a glass.

Large swigs from the bottle, its flames burn my throat as it sails through my body. A pig I must look as the spoon shovels in the fruit pie, if this is what it feels like indulging in toxins, then I am taking it up as a hobby.

My stomach growls, raising a white flag and begging me to stop, I just continue with the whiskey. Silent and alone in a dimly lit room, cast away to do as I please. Rules once engraved into my skin, now torn away, fuck everyone. Chains have been broken; a rebellious life like Newt’s looks appealing, except I’ll do it better than him. I will come away from it unscathed, both eyes in my head. Everything I will do, I will do it better than everyone else.

It is my time to have full control and I am fucking going to do it right.

Knock knock.

My palm rubs against my forehead, trying to slow down the spinning room. I push myself up from the armchair, the bottle still in my hand but my legs aren’t truly complying. Somehow I must stumble to the door, there is an unwanted visitor, disturbing my peace.

Knock Knock.

I can ignore it or shoo them away.

I have control now. Fuck it, I’ll open the door.