Valeria should have expected some twisted answer from Cayn, considering everything that came out of his mouth now seemed like a curse, but his question ultimately took her off guard. Reconciling the gentle question with further words only served to weary her mind. There was no denying they had been close as children, childhood memories entailing the affection elder would pass to younger - dear baby sister always following close behind. Hugging had been common, but when puberty unfurled with sweeping authority, perspective towards affection changed.<br/><br/>They had ceased to do many things as age caught up to them, and partaking entertainment in front of a screen together was one such pastime. It was surely to be nostalgic, but the way a coquettish cloud dawned across her brother’s features, she wondered if he had something else in mind. She did not want to know for it was especially strong with the mention of a promised ‘date’. Was it a joke meant to ease her apprehension, or a promise she was not to wriggle her way out of?<br/><br/>Valeria had to keep down the involuntary jerk of her body when Cayn crossed the distance of the room to plant a kiss to her crown like a farewell. Parting is such sweet sorrow, dear sister? Oh how cruel his declaration was. Before the damaging endeavor, it would have been assumed it was just a purr of brotherly comfort, but it sounded far too much like he was assuring his own worries. She did not think he required an answer, and denied him one; lips sealed shut even when he slinked out of her room a ghost of ill-conceived memory.<br/><br/>How selfish he was, tearing away her security, the peace of mind to be able to live under the same roof with little fear. Thoroughly abused the young woman kept to herself after he had left her privacy. For a while it was just staring at the ceiling, miserably dwelling on the heartbeat of trauma that suffered through the depths of her soul. By then the sticky ooze of dear brother had all but dried, and twisted in the aftermath of blood, lingered a heavy reminder; glued in the bruised depths.<br/><br/>It took her almost an hour to move from the stained sheets, and a little more to finally stumble to her phone and call up darling Albert. Every step may have been a throb of pain, but it was nothing compared to lying to her boyfriend - feeding him honeyed words to ensure there would be no fated meeting that day. He accepted it as it were, not hearing the tears that threatened to choke up her throat, and promised another time. Her excuse worked well, some half-truth about how she was not feeling up to it anymore.<br/><br/>She purposely failed to exaggerate the details.<br/><br/>With Albert called off, Valeria was finally able to limp towards the bathroom for a well-needed shower. A bundle of new clothes were trapped in her arms, some garments she had blindly picked up to replace her tarnished summer dress. Black and white color scheme, she dropped the folded clothes onto the sink’s counter and locked the door behind her with no intentions of letting anyone in. Sticking to the shadows had gotten her far.<br/><br/>She turned the water on hot, stripped off the torn gown, and stepped under the thundering waterfall. The heat burned, but the numbness inside was a shield. There was no feeling the angry liquid as it caressed down long strands of black hair. Her brain was too occupied in scrubbing desperately at the rust and watching it drip down to the basin. Blasphemer, taking that away from her… Her entire trust felt misplaced; mishandled.<br/><br/>Eventually her shaking hands turned the water off and she was left glistening wet. Empty and hollow, dark eyes fixed numbly at the last stains of red drowning the drain. The heat had soothed away some of the ache, but barely, and the dull pain trapped her in her head when the blood started to dribble once more.<br/><br/>There was the scent of cooking permeating even the bathroom’s misty air, something she could pick up in the rather despondent state she remained. It had to have been Cayn for mother and father were not home yet. He was never fancy in the kitchen, but the smell was different. More varied. The fact he was, perhaps, going for a more bountiful setup suggested celebration. To their parents it would be an excuse, wouldn’t it? But Valeria knew better…<br/><br/>The bathroom was a temporary shelter until her presence had been signaled to dinner by the harkening of Cayn’s voice. Grudgingly she removed herself from the shower, unsure of how long she had stood within the heat, but like Lady Macbeth, felt as if the reminder still lingered within her depths. Bruises were beginning to blossom, ugly little flowers bent on afflicting the pallor of skin, and the only sanctity she had to hide the contusions was to slip on the clothes she’d brought.<br/><br/>Loose white blouse to conceal the shoulders; a long black skirt to obscure the wounds, hang about her legs so the friction would not ache the ring of swollen flesh. The panties decided upon were dark to prevent any sign of leftover blood from showing. Her steps were hesitant and slow to prevent pain when she gradually emerged from the wash closet, hair still damp about her head in a mindless sort of way. She did not want to lay eyes upon the violator - dear and close brother as he was - and slunk into the kitchen with gaze lowered.<br/><br/>Mr. and Mrs. Orville were bid only the bare minimum of a nod, far fetched from her usual happy-go-lucky disposition. But it was not her fault now was it? How was she supposed to act, settling down at the family table seated near the young man of her terror? Despite a lack of appetite Valeria made an appearance if just to soothe any concern her family may throw if she had not shown.<br/><br/>But she was not keen on eating. Gazing numbly at porcelain was all she desired to do.