CHAPTER FOUR | MUSCLE MEMORY

KOLSON

EVERYTHING IN THIS town reeked like an old bag of dicks. It was all you could really expect from a shit-eating town and its shit-for-brains people. Truly, Graycott was home shit home.

I threw the bag of frozen peas across the long mahogany table, wincing as the cold relief left my bruised eye. I brought my elbows to my knees and hunched over where I sat on top of a white-cushioned dining chair. "It's not working, Rose."

My younger sister stood in front of me with her arms folded across her chest. Rosemary leaned against the lavishly clean kitchen stove that belonged to the jackass who was now her legal guardian. She glared at me like she could kick my ass if it weren't for the sole fact it had already been handed to me by Freddie 'The Asshat' Volkov.

The townhouse I helped her move into a couple days ago remained empty for most of the week, as it was tonight. Its sole, unmarried owner was often away for his priestly duties and devout religious ministry. Despite John Maxwell's self-proclaimed former friendship with Anne and Dale Simmons, there was no amount of Rosary-clutching or Hail Mary's that would bring our parents back; and the last thing Rose and I needed to add to our list of masteries was a charity case.

"It only works if you leave it on for more than thirty seconds," she huffed, reaching for  the peas and sliding it back towards me.

Rose wasn't sleeping again. I knew for certain by the late night splattering's of paint sprinkled over her pale arms, always a tell-tale sign of her restless insomnia.

Already a wisp of a girl, Rosemary was fine boned and rail-thin. With wavy hair the same color as mine, hollowed cheeks and ears always poking out, a bit larger than the rest of her; she never failed to appear a little awkward and fragile looking.

A weary sigh left me and I reached for the frozen bag.

"I mean this damn place," I winced, placing the bag over my eye. My entire body hurt from the fight, but the pain was a welcome change over the constant numbness. "We left for a reason."

"We left because we had to, Kolson," she sighed angrily. "You're not going to mess this up again." Rosemary very rarely let her anger show, but deep down I knew she was as pissed off with the world as I was. The universe had never given a single iota of a fuck to either of us, we were under no obligation to give one back.

She paused, waiting for a response I couldn't give her.

"You promised me," her voice broke, a tear threatening to spill over her moss green eyes. They had always been the spitting image of our mother's. Rose was one of the only things I had left that reminded me of her.  

My shoulders dropped at the faint pleading in her voice. She looked down at her short-bitten nails and then up at me.

Rosemary was never like me, she had always wanted to belong here; to fit in with the rest of them. She looked up to the glory and glamour of Graycott's finest since we were children, fully aware that our family didn't have much to our name and came from the wrong side of the tracks. When everyone looked down on us, Rose chased after their approval whilst I made it my life's mission to give the people what they wanted. 

Rosemary clenched her jaw and moved around the table to walk towards me. She grabbed the frozen bag of peas from my hand, smacking my arm away when I resisted.

"We've been here all of two minutes, Ozzie" she tutted, examining my battered eyelid and discoloured face. My lips twitched at the childhood nickname she had for me, unable to pronounce my actual name when she was a baby. "And it only took you half that time to almost get yourself killed."

"A missed opportunity."

Rose smacked the bag against my shoulder and we both chuckled lightly. My sister had long made her disapproval of me into an art form, exaggeration regularly her preferred medium.

Two years younger than me at sixteen, Rose always considered herself the elder sibling with the amount she stayed out of trouble and the same amount I went looking for it. 

I reached inside my back pocket to pull out the thick wad of cash I made from the fight tonight and dropped it on the counter next to her.

"Keep it," I murmured. "I don't want that asshole paying for anything you might need."  

She narrowed her eyes at me, not giving the money even a glimpse of attention. "Father Maxwell is the only reason we're both receiving a worthwhile education and a place to stay. It wouldn't hurt you to show just the briefest amount of respect, Kolson."

"Right," I scoffed. "I forget that we were a sign from God. How thoughtful of the almighty."

Rosemary dropped the bag of peas on the table and glared at me with a wary expression. Her eyebrows pinched together and her mouth tensed as her tired fatigue melted away into a look that all but said, I'm getting tired of your shit, Kolson Dale Simmons.

When both our parents died in the front seats of our father's ludicrous old work truck at the bottom of a low-cut cliff, Rosemary was only eleven. I remembered how she sobbed before and after the barely attended funeral, but not once during. I held her frail body during all the cold and hungry nights as we made our way through the various families in the foster care system. When we became older, they tried their best to keep us together but adolescent orphans very rarely got adopted, less so adopted together.

When they finally found a long-term caretaker for Rose, it hardly mattered to me that I was no longer a minor in the system. I would follow Rose into every inconsolable darkness and endure it for the both of us. I promised myself that the day I saw my mother's body lying peacefully in a cheap state-provided casket.

Father Maxwell told us it was a divine calling that drew him to Rose; taking enough pity to pay for the rest of my senior year alongside a place for me to stay so that I could be close to my sister before I graduated. In Rose's eyes, we were heaven-sent, saved by a mere message from the angels. In mine, we were both hell-bound in a town that had taken everything from us.

I sucked in a huge breath and tilted my head towards my sister, "What do you want me to say, Rose?"

"I'm sorry?" she recommended, eyebrows shooting up.

"You're forgiven." I smirked, pulling her in for a sore hug.

I felt her relax when I covered her body with mine. She placed her cheek on my shoulder and muttered, "Tighter."   

I squeezed her willowy frame harder and felt the small wet tear absorb into my shirt when her breath stuttered. I couldn't remember when my sister's smile stopped reaching her eyes and she failed to look at me like I held the power to save us. Maybe it was somewhere around the time they came looking for me as a suspect for the death of a silver-haired young boy.