This House No Longer Feels Like Home (Jane Reid)

[Matthew Reid]

It had been roughly two months since the death of Diana Reid. Two months since the mother of Matthew and Jane Reid had died. Almost two months since the funeral. Almost two months since the entire feeling of the house had changed. Until two months ago, things had been quiet. Difficult, yes, but quiet. Things were worse now. It was bound to get worse. It had been five years since Diana Reid had gone to Las Vegas state mental hospital and everything had changed since then. Maybe not 'everything', exactly. The house - her house - hadn't changed too much. It was emptier and without a cat (because Matthew had accidentally run Hotspot over three years ago) but the contents hadn't changed. The books had finally been cleared off of the kitchen table, though they now resided on the table in the living room at which a twenty-three year old was scribbling down the progress that a Tobias White had made into his file. It was a little bit difficult to tell how much progress Mister White had made, though, due to the fact that he was a paranoid compulsive liar. Guesses could be made, though.

Scratching came from the area that the twenty-three year old was hunched in as the Biro moved across the page, leaving somewhat messy letters in its wake. He sat up momentarily to push his hair back and push his glasses up his nose before hunching again and continuing to write. His eyes stung softly with every blink and he paused momentarily, sitting up while putting his pen down, before taking his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes. He needed sleep. It was nine at night, though, but the night before hadn't been the best night for sleep. Nightmares had been plaguing him for two months and they tended to interrupt his sleep. His hands fell from his eyes after a moment and he crossed his arms loosely on the table. Maybe he should go to bed... It seemed like a good idea but he really needed to get this done. On the one hand, it would be easier to do it now than to try and force himself into doing it the next day, but on the other hand he would remember it the next day. Motivation won out after a minute, though, and he moved to put his glasses back on before picking the pen up again.

About to go back to writing, Matthew heard a noise from the dark hallway outside the living room. He gave a frown as he looked at the door before shaking his head. It was probably just Jane... Or just the house.

Or a ghost or a burglar or a mass murderer.

Matthew rolled his eyes at his own paranoid thoughts and shook his head silently while moving to continue writing. It wouldn't be a burglar. It was unlikely they'd come into a house where someone was still awake, and he was pretty certain that if they did then Jane would beat them to a pulp. Mass murderers, on the other hand... He shook his head again and tried to focus on just writing what he needed to write. It was probably just him getting tired. That seemed the most likely. More likely than mass murderers or ghosts, anyway. His thoughts annoyed even himself sometimes, especially when they were mostly illogical... Though they worried him when they were logical... More because he wasn't always certain that paranoid ramblings could be so well thought out... Of course, he'd been proven that they really could be well thought out. That was worrying...

Sitting up momentarily and putting his pen down again, Matthew shook his arm out to his side while re-reading what he'd just written with the minor hope that his hand wasn't getting cramp. That could be bad. That could be very bad. He popped his knuckles as he re-read what he'd written again and scrunched his nose in an attempt to get his glasses to move without using his hands. When this failed, Matthew pushed his glasses up his nose and moved to pick his pen up once more as the soft need for brandy entered his mind. No! No brandy! That wouldn't be a good idea and his writing would end up trailing down the page. Sober writing would work much better and would mean he wouldn't wonder what on earth had happened the next morning... And so he attempted to continue, though his thoughts were on the slight need and the noise from the hallway.

[Jane Reid]

She was angry. She was angry a lot, but now she was more angry than usual. It was all his fault. Their mother had died because of him. She'd been placed in that godforsaken asylum because of him too. She was angry at him for killing their mother, angry at him for running over Hotspot. Angry at him for pretty much everything.

Strange how relationships could change so drastically.

She moved through the house, the empty darkness, towards the living room. Her feet hit the creaking board and for a fleeting moment she found herself hoping that it caused paranoid thoughts to swarm his head. She moved into the living room, hearing the scratching of his pen on the paper. She didn't know what he was writing about - she was guessing it was for a patient - but frankly she didn't really care.

Standing off to the side, her arms crossed, she placed her blank eyes on him. When she spoke her words were harsh, bitter, unforgiving, "It's your fault," Her words exited with a faint growl, her eyes narrowing more than just a little bit.

( Note - Not sure how bad I failed here. Sorry it's so short! D:)

[Matthew Reid]

Inwardly cringing at the tone his sister spoke in, Matthew tried very hard to ignore it. He was busy and if he used his job as a reason to not react then hopefully she'd leave... It didn't seem likely, to be honest and so, after a moment of silence from Matthew as he finished the sentence that he was writing, he glanced at her momentarily. Oh, she was angry. That was very obvious. Even to Matthew, it was obvious. He looked back at the work in front of him and continued to write.

"So you've said, many times." He replied calmly as he lost track of what he had been thinking a second before. Trying to remember, though determinedly not looking at her, Matthew pushed his hair out of his eyes and rested his pen against his bottom lip in thought. "Are you talking about anything specific this time or is everything my fault?" He asked, trying very hard to keep his tone light and casual though unable to stop the small hint of annoyance seeping through. Bad time for him to realise again that he was tired. Very bad time. Tiredness would not help and nor would most things, actually. Shoving her out of the room and shutting the door would but Matthew was neither that stupid nor that brave.

Only now did he look at her again, though he genuinely regretted it for a moment before he looked back at the work in front of him and pushed his glasses up his nose with a very small movement. He sat up a little before hunching over the work once again as though hoping that it would drag back whatever he'd been thinking about before and remembered less than a second after he moved. He continued to write without giving Jane any extra sign that he knew she was there. He wasn't trying to be rude or annoying but he did need to get this done without anything happening to it. He had the feeling that something would happen which would cause... He genuinely had no idea, but he just felt like something would happen. He continued to write regardless, though his shoulders were tensed as though expecting her to physically attack him. Well, it was Jane so anything was possible...


((Notes: ashudijnbhuenjasuhiew hello Jane bby. Yes. Perfect.))

[Jane Reid]

Jane's eyes narrowed when he ignored her. She didn't much like being ignored. Who did? She waited, none too patiently for him to respond to her. She actually found it quite amusing that he would think she would leave. Didn't he know her at all? She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for him to 1) look at her and 2) respond. She knew he would eventually. He always did.

Somewhat irritated at how calm his words were - but barely holding in a smirk at the annoyance - Jane continued to glare at him as he once again refused to meet her eyes. "Everything is your fault," she clarified bitterly. "Mom's dead because of you," she retorted, "Dad's gone because of you too." She paused for just a moment. "Hotspot is dead because of you. You did that on purpose."

To tell the truth, Jane wasn't sure he had done it on purpose, but it seemed logical enough. He was allergic and he had disliked the cat, so it only made sense that he would run it over on purpose. She seemed to be forgetting that her brother was actually quite cowardly when it came to things like that.

"Everything," she repeated unkindly, "is your fault." To say the least she did enjoy rubbing it in just a little. She wanted him to remember that fact more than everything else and certainly more than what he appeared to have forgotten.

( Note - I still feel like I'm failing... xD)

[Matthew Reid]

Matthew gave a hint of a nod as she spoke, keeping his gaze on his work instead of looking at her. Of course everything was his fault. He didn't know why he'd expected even a little bit of difference there... Regardless, he still refused to look at her as she listed off the things that were his fault. Start with the one he felt most guilty about. Perfect. He couldn't help a small snort at the second thing that was supposedly his fault. Glancing at her, Matthew sat up casually while waiting for her to finish. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head before glancing down at his work again and adding to it.

When she repeated her previous words of everything being his fault, Matthew didn't even bother looking up again as he began speaking with his voice once again taking on a very calm tone as he seemingly ignored her existence with the exception of the fact that he was talking to her at that moment in time.

"William," He began, continuing to add to the writing in front of him. "left because he didn't want to even try helping mom cope with her disorder." He continued, never wavering from the rather doctor-like way he was saying it. He still didn't look at her as he continued onto the point about her blasted, ridiculous cat. "Hotspot ran into the middle of the road. I didn't aim for him, despite your belief that I'm stupid or brave enough to do so." He glanced her her now. "Are there any other deaths or abandonments you'd like to blame me for or can I do my work in peace now? Because I actually have a job, in case you missed that."

Yes, he probably was sassing Jane but, even though it was unintentional, Matthew wasn't the least bit sorry. He'd heard most if not everything she had to say before and he really didn't have the time for her to throw another round of illogical accusations at him. He saw them as mostly illogical, anyway, though that may have just been to spite her... It was difficult to tell... Even though he'd previously been relaxed and casual towards her, he still hadn't stopped tensing his shoulders from before. Until she was out of the room, he probably wouldn't. See, Matthew actually knew his sister and thus knew that trusting her even a little bit was likely a stupid idea... Or he was just being paranoid again...


((Notes: Stahp. ur perf. u no her well enough u make her say things she said in fics u hadn't read b4 writing this. (THAT WRITING IS SO DIFFICULT) I'm sorry this sucks.))

[Jane Reid]

She was almost faintly amused when he nodded when she spoke, as though he was admitting that everything was in fact his fault. She narrowed her eyes at his snort though, a glare settling into her features as she crossed her arms, glaring at her brother, waiting for him to look at her so he could get the full force of her anger that she sincerely hoped was radiating off her like an aura. She narrowed her eyes further when he raised an eyebrow and shook his head, shifting her weight and impatiently waiting for his reply.

She didn't like his calm tone. She didn't like that he scarcely looked at her. And she definitely didn't like that he seemed to be almost ignoring her, if that was possible when the one doing the ignoring was talking to the one they were attempting to ignore. She smirked a bit at that, considering how illogical it was, and she knew how much her brother loved logical thinking.

She had grown used to him calling their father by his first name, as much as it annoyed her. She glared at the pencil in his hand as he wrote, irritated that he would work and talk to her at the same time. She hoped he messed up. She hoped he got fired for messing up. She arched a brow at his response to his running over Hotspot. She shook her head with irritation. "You expect me to believe that you can't see a cat with his coloring?" She was about to go on but stopped at the sass.

"I hope they fire you," she declared, watching him for his reaction. She was glad that he was slightly annoyed by her to tell the truth. She was glad that she was annoying him, that meant that maybe he'd mess up something and then maybe he'd lose his job. She smirked a bit, watching him with a smirk and narrowed eyes. She was glad she caused his muscles to tense as well. It made her feel slightly accomplished. Jane, one. Matthew, zero. At least. That's how she saw it.

(Note: mmkay. Stahping... xD That didn't suck! This sucks.)

[Matthew Reid]

He was almost relieved when she didn't talk again after he did. It was only a short break from her voice, but it was enough that he could finish the sentence he was on without fearing that he would accidentally write his thoughts instead of what he was supposed to be writing. As she spoke, though, Matthew sighed softly. 'Can't'. No, he couldn't see the colouring at that moment in time given the fact that the cat in question was dead. He finished another sentence before shaking his head and sitting up a little, thinking of what to say before deciding to just go for it.

"Couldn't." He corrected her. "I couldn't see a cat of his coloring." He looked at her as though bored, though regretted it instantly, and paused for a moment before speaking again. "He was an orange streak and then a speed bump. It may have been suicide." He said coolly, still looking at her and attempting to hide his annoyance. In truth, he felt a little bit bad for that, but then again he also didn't because she was annoying him and he didn't control his mouth very well when he was annoyed... Too often he said something he probably shouldn't have while angry or irritated with someone, though that wouldn't stop now.

He turned his attention back to his work before he heard her next words. Oh, that would help them. That would really help them. Matthew frowned before shaking his head.

"At which point we'd end up on the streets because, despite everything, the human race is controlled by scraps of paper and metal disks." He replied, describing money and still talking rather casually, the tone never wavering as he continued. "And so you'd rather we end up on the street than you just leave me in peace for roughly an hour in order to finish my work so that we can get money." He placed his writing instrument down and stood from the table before walking around her to go and get a glass of brandy from the kitchen at the end of the hallway. "That's logical." He mumbled sarcastically under his breath as he passed her before exiting the room and beginning to move down the hallway.


((Notes: Pfft nope. not accepting that.))