My Small Hand (Will Be Enough)
Title: My Small Hand (Will Be Enough)
WC: 1519
Characters: Huck, Molly, Andrea, CJ
Rating: PG-13 for thematics
Summary: It is the only thing Huck knows about his sister right now; she is sad and he does not have the words to comfort her.
Notes: Written for tww_minis round of hurt/comfort.
She is sad.
It is the only thing Huck knows about his sister right now; she is sad and he does not have the words to comfort her. Their father has been dead for almost four years and he wonders how he, nearly 18, is supposed to be the man of the house and make things right again.
"I could go after him with a baseball bat," Huck suggests.
Molly shakes her head, thin arms wrapped around thin legs, tucked into the farthest corner of her bed. He frowns, looking at her. She always was a picky eater, but this is different. She hasn't eaten in two days, that he knows of. Their mother had suggested to let Molly be, and Huck has been trying to give his sister what she needs.
"You should eat," he says, but again she shakes her head.
She is sad, and lost, and hurt, and he doesn't know how to help her. He is not a man of the house, he is not anything like his father, he just wants his father. He tiptoes to the room of his father things, slips the door shut behind him, and takes a deep breath. It is the room his mother stores all the things of his father in; it is the room that forever smelled like his father- forever being a few months. Now it smells like books- musty and old, but sometimes, when he inhales deep, he can smell his father again.
"Tell me what I'm supposed to do," he asks the empty room. "Tell me how to make her better again, dad, because I don't know how."
There is only silence.
He leaves, letting the door gently click before heading back down the hall. This time he can hear his mother talking with Molly.
"Molly, please."
"No."
"Molly, this isn't-"
"Mum! I said NO!"
She yells the last word and Huck winces- Molly might have been rail thin and good for nothing in a physical fight, but she more than made up for that by having a voice. He watches his mother leave, watches as his mother does not take notice of him at all. He leans outside the door and waits a full three and a half minutes before going back in.
"You didn't have to wait outside," Molly says softly.
Huck doesn't say anything to this, just sits on the opposite corner of her bed and waits.
"I don't have anything to wear." She swallows and Huck inches closer on the bed, watching her carefully. "If I go, I have nothing to wear."
"I'll go shopping." He says it quietly, and she does not respond back. He takes that as an approval of sorts.
*
He doesn't tell his mother where he is going, only that he is going out. She does not push, for which he is glad. He doesn't think he can take any pushing from anyone.
There is nothing in the store that speaks to him, that she would like, that she would wear and be ok with the world in. She doesn't mean a dress, or a skirt, he knows. She wouldn't wear those- not after what happened. Dress pants, then. And something nice to go with them. He doesn't know what that means, doesn't know how to buy her something that she'll like. He is a guy- he never learnt this stuff.
He notices the flash of hair too late, when he ducks behind the dresses, she follows.
"Huck?"
"Mrs. Cregg."
She laughs, "CJ, Huck. You can call me CJ."
He nods, curtly. CJ is tied to his father, and he has too much else going on to miss his father fiercely. He has other things he needs to do fiercely.
"What are you doing in the dress section?"
Huck looks around, closes his eyes against the dresses, against the image of a torn prom dress and the broken girl inside it.
"I'm shopping," he says finally. "For Molly." He takes a deep breath and plunges in with it, "She has to go to court." His voice, he notes, does not shake.
CJ moves with concern, quickly, "Huck, what happened?" Her hand is on his shoulder, and she looks safe- like someone that Huck can trust when he now knows there's nothing in the world that guarantees you can trust someone.
Huck closes his eyes again, "We went to prom." And there his voice has a hint of a quiver in it; he forces himself to take a deep breath and open his eyes. He is a man, and men don't cry. If he tells her anything more, it'll make it real, and it's only real in his head, real to the handful of people that were there.
I think Molly's hurt. He had run across the gymnasium, out the doors, and across the parking lot before his heart started beating again. He looked at Molly, propped against the tire of another car- not Patrick's car, the boy she'd come with- but someoneelse's entirely. Her dress was ripped, the dark blue dress that she insisted on having, and it had taken him a moment to realise that the darker blue shimmers on the dress were shimmers of blood. She hadn't looked up at all, not until Huck touched her shoulder. Her left eye was already purple and black, and Huck had taken a step back. She had taken a deep breath, stood while holding her bruised and bloodied right arm.
He left without me.
Huck swallows hard. If he tells, it'll make it real. If he tells that, he'll have to tell how he doesn't even know the rest, how Molly had spoken to the police with their mother once they'd returned home, Huck's date standing on the porch in his blue tux, calling his own parents for a ride home. If he tells now, he'll have to admit how fragile he really is, howunprotective he is, how very much not a man- not his father at all- he is.
So he doesn't say anything, and CJ seems to understand. "Come on then," she says. "You might as well let me help you."
It is quick, and he is grateful for that. There is an entirely new outfit, one CJ put on her credit card, telling him not to worry about it.
"How are you getting home?"
He bites his lip, shrugs, "Bus."
She shakes her head, "Come on, you might as well let me give you a ride."
*
When they pull up, his mother bursts out the door, eyes wild until she realises who it is with Huck.
"Claudia Jean!"
"Andy ..."
Huck swallows again, takes the bag and creeps upstairs. He waits at the top of the stairs, listens to the murmurs from the two adults. Listens until his mother starts crying andCJ says softly, "Andy ... oh, Andy ..."
Molly doesn't move when he enters and lays the bag on the bed. Now that he's done that, fulfilled her request, he doesn't know what else to do. He wasn't a man at all- he wasn't a brother either. He doesn't know what else to do, so he sits on the opposite corner of the bed and watches her tiny frame shake without sound. When she whimpers, he moves instinctively, wraps his arms around hers, both of them now huddled in the same corner. She whimpers again and he pulls her tighter, her head pressed against his chest. The third whimper is softer, and he sighs, resting his head atop hers. There is no fourth whimper, just mangled sighs before her body relaxes against his. And whenCJ and his mother poke their heads in, he glares at them until they leave.
It isn't fair, he thinks, once Molly's breathing is deep with sleep, that this happened six days before they turned 18- before they became adults for real. Now it was two days away, and Huck wishes desperately that in these remaining days Molly crawls out of her shell. And if he only knew the right combination of words to say to make it so.
He doesn't hear CJ leave, doesn't hear his mother peek in the door to see the two of them sleeping, doesn't hear her sit in the room with them for several hours before she too, exhausted, falls asleep.
*
When he wakes his mother is already gone and Molly is sitting next to him, dressed in her new outfit. She doesn't say anything, so neither does he. They are the opposite of the previous days, Molly sitting on the opposite corner of the bed, Huck in the farthest corner, arms wrapped around his curled legs. He is no-where near as skinny as Molly is, and no-where near as frail. He feels frail, even now, but Molly looks determined.
"I'm going," she says softly.
He nods, uncurls himself, and hold outs his hand to her, "And I'll be there with you."
The corners of her mouth give the faintest twitch upward; she nods as she takes his hand.
It might be irrational, but he thinks that maybe, if he can keep holding her hand, Molly'll be ok.
WC: 1519
Characters: Huck, Molly, Andrea, CJ
Rating: PG-13 for thematics
Summary: It is the only thing Huck knows about his sister right now; she is sad and he does not have the words to comfort her.
Notes: Written for tww_minis round of hurt/comfort.
She is sad.
It is the only thing Huck knows about his sister right now; she is sad and he does not have the words to comfort her. Their father has been dead for almost four years and he wonders how he, nearly 18, is supposed to be the man of the house and make things right again.
"I could go after him with a baseball bat," Huck suggests.
Molly shakes her head, thin arms wrapped around thin legs, tucked into the farthest corner of her bed. He frowns, looking at her. She always was a picky eater, but this is different. She hasn't eaten in two days, that he knows of. Their mother had suggested to let Molly be, and Huck has been trying to give his sister what she needs.
"You should eat," he says, but again she shakes her head.
She is sad, and lost, and hurt, and he doesn't know how to help her. He is not a man of the house, he is not anything like his father, he just wants his father. He tiptoes to the room of his father things, slips the door shut behind him, and takes a deep breath. It is the room his mother stores all the things of his father in; it is the room that forever smelled like his father- forever being a few months. Now it smells like books- musty and old, but sometimes, when he inhales deep, he can smell his father again.
"Tell me what I'm supposed to do," he asks the empty room. "Tell me how to make her better again, dad, because I don't know how."
There is only silence.
He leaves, letting the door gently click before heading back down the hall. This time he can hear his mother talking with Molly.
"Molly, please."
"No."
"Molly, this isn't-"
"Mum! I said NO!"
She yells the last word and Huck winces- Molly might have been rail thin and good for nothing in a physical fight, but she more than made up for that by having a voice. He watches his mother leave, watches as his mother does not take notice of him at all. He leans outside the door and waits a full three and a half minutes before going back in.
"You didn't have to wait outside," Molly says softly.
Huck doesn't say anything to this, just sits on the opposite corner of her bed and waits.
"I don't have anything to wear." She swallows and Huck inches closer on the bed, watching her carefully. "If I go, I have nothing to wear."
"I'll go shopping." He says it quietly, and she does not respond back. He takes that as an approval of sorts.
*
He doesn't tell his mother where he is going, only that he is going out. She does not push, for which he is glad. He doesn't think he can take any pushing from anyone.
There is nothing in the store that speaks to him, that she would like, that she would wear and be ok with the world in. She doesn't mean a dress, or a skirt, he knows. She wouldn't wear those- not after what happened. Dress pants, then. And something nice to go with them. He doesn't know what that means, doesn't know how to buy her something that she'll like. He is a guy- he never learnt this stuff.
He notices the flash of hair too late, when he ducks behind the dresses, she follows.
"Huck?"
"Mrs. Cregg."
She laughs, "CJ, Huck. You can call me CJ."
He nods, curtly. CJ is tied to his father, and he has too much else going on to miss his father fiercely. He has other things he needs to do fiercely.
"What are you doing in the dress section?"
Huck looks around, closes his eyes against the dresses, against the image of a torn prom dress and the broken girl inside it.
"I'm shopping," he says finally. "For Molly." He takes a deep breath and plunges in with it, "She has to go to court." His voice, he notes, does not shake.
CJ moves with concern, quickly, "Huck, what happened?" Her hand is on his shoulder, and she looks safe- like someone that Huck can trust when he now knows there's nothing in the world that guarantees you can trust someone.
Huck closes his eyes again, "We went to prom." And there his voice has a hint of a quiver in it; he forces himself to take a deep breath and open his eyes. He is a man, and men don't cry. If he tells her anything more, it'll make it real, and it's only real in his head, real to the handful of people that were there.
I think Molly's hurt. He had run across the gymnasium, out the doors, and across the parking lot before his heart started beating again. He looked at Molly, propped against the tire of another car- not Patrick's car, the boy she'd come with- but someoneelse's entirely. Her dress was ripped, the dark blue dress that she insisted on having, and it had taken him a moment to realise that the darker blue shimmers on the dress were shimmers of blood. She hadn't looked up at all, not until Huck touched her shoulder. Her left eye was already purple and black, and Huck had taken a step back. She had taken a deep breath, stood while holding her bruised and bloodied right arm.
He left without me.
Huck swallows hard. If he tells, it'll make it real. If he tells that, he'll have to tell how he doesn't even know the rest, how Molly had spoken to the police with their mother once they'd returned home, Huck's date standing on the porch in his blue tux, calling his own parents for a ride home. If he tells now, he'll have to admit how fragile he really is, howunprotective he is, how very much not a man- not his father at all- he is.
So he doesn't say anything, and CJ seems to understand. "Come on then," she says. "You might as well let me help you."
It is quick, and he is grateful for that. There is an entirely new outfit, one CJ put on her credit card, telling him not to worry about it.
"How are you getting home?"
He bites his lip, shrugs, "Bus."
She shakes her head, "Come on, you might as well let me give you a ride."
*
When they pull up, his mother bursts out the door, eyes wild until she realises who it is with Huck.
"Claudia Jean!"
"Andy ..."
Huck swallows again, takes the bag and creeps upstairs. He waits at the top of the stairs, listens to the murmurs from the two adults. Listens until his mother starts crying andCJ says softly, "Andy ... oh, Andy ..."
Molly doesn't move when he enters and lays the bag on the bed. Now that he's done that, fulfilled her request, he doesn't know what else to do. He wasn't a man at all- he wasn't a brother either. He doesn't know what else to do, so he sits on the opposite corner of the bed and watches her tiny frame shake without sound. When she whimpers, he moves instinctively, wraps his arms around hers, both of them now huddled in the same corner. She whimpers again and he pulls her tighter, her head pressed against his chest. The third whimper is softer, and he sighs, resting his head atop hers. There is no fourth whimper, just mangled sighs before her body relaxes against his. And whenCJ and his mother poke their heads in, he glares at them until they leave.
It isn't fair, he thinks, once Molly's breathing is deep with sleep, that this happened six days before they turned 18- before they became adults for real. Now it was two days away, and Huck wishes desperately that in these remaining days Molly crawls out of her shell. And if he only knew the right combination of words to say to make it so.
He doesn't hear CJ leave, doesn't hear his mother peek in the door to see the two of them sleeping, doesn't hear her sit in the room with them for several hours before she too, exhausted, falls asleep.
*
When he wakes his mother is already gone and Molly is sitting next to him, dressed in her new outfit. She doesn't say anything, so neither does he. They are the opposite of the previous days, Molly sitting on the opposite corner of the bed, Huck in the farthest corner, arms wrapped around his curled legs. He is no-where near as skinny as Molly is, and no-where near as frail. He feels frail, even now, but Molly looks determined.
"I'm going," she says softly.
He nods, uncurls himself, and hold outs his hand to her, "And I'll be there with you."
The corners of her mouth give the faintest twitch upward; she nods as she takes his hand.
It might be irrational, but he thinks that maybe, if he can keep holding her hand, Molly'll be ok.