I think it's time for you to go

I walked up the overgrown garden path slowly and nervously, my hands shaking with each step. The front door loomed dauntingly in front of me as I wiped my sweaty hands across my jeans. What the hell was I doing here?

I knocked sharply on the hard wooden surface and took a step back. My stomach churned with feelings I hadn't identified yet, and I felt like I was going to puke. Yep, that'd be a good start, Rachael opens the door to find sticky vomit all over her doormat, charming Luke.

I hear footsteps padding down the hall and then the unlocking of the door. A small little face with a mop of blond curly hair grunted and me and yelled "Mum! There's a teenager at our door." I leaned down so I could see the boy. "What's your name?" I asked. The boy retreated into his hair and muttered, "Jamie". I grinned, "My name's Luke." The boy grinned too and showed me the action figure he was holding in his small fist. "This auto-matron is called Luke. You can keep him." I smiled at him and took the action figure carefully. Another pair of footsteps thudded down the hall.

"Mummy says when I'm older I can get a leather jacket." Jaimie said, looking at mine. I shrugged it off and showed it too him. "Wow, it's so cool!" I chuckled and slipped the jacket back over my shoulder. Another face appeared at the door.

She looked the exact same as she did when I'd last seen her, thin red hair tied in a neat bun, freckles dotted along her nose, green cat-like eyes and laugh lines shadowing her eyes. "I'm sorry, who are you?" Rachael asked, wrapping an arm protectively around Jaimie. She'd never done that to me, I thought bitterly.

"It's Luke, your brother." I said. The affect on her was instant, Rachael covered her open mouth with her hand and grabbed the wall for support. "Luke? Is that really you?" She whispered, her face was suddenly pale and hollow, like she'd aged ten years. The sick feeling was so strong now, I felt like I was about to collapse. "Yes." I mumbled, pressing a hand against my forehead to try and cool myself down.

"Come in." Rachael murmured, leading me into the small living room. She walked into the kitchen, to make tea probably. Jaimie ran down the hall and disappeared into one of the rooms.

I felt hot and cold at the same time, the hair at the nape of my neck sticky with sweat. I looked at the two plush couches and then at the mantle piece, which was filled with photos. There was photos of Rachael and a handsome man with close cropped black hair on their wedding day. Photo's of Jaimie as a baby. And at the back was a dusty photo of me and her when we where kids, laughing at each other and wearing equally grubby faces.

I took it in my hands and blew the dust off it. The churn of feelings was growing sickeningly and as I looked at the photo I fought the urge to break down and cry. Rachael came in with a platter full of biscuits and tea and stopped abruptly when she saw me holding the photo. Her hands where trembling as she carefully set the tray down.

"I-I've always thought that dad would have wanted me to keep that up there." Rachael said quietly from behind me. I nodded, too wrung up on my emotions to say anything. "Are you ok, Luke?" She whispered, placing a hand on my arm. I flinched away from the contact and sat down on the couch.

"I came to pick my books." I said, running a hand through my shaggy hair. Rachael gave a nod and showed me into one of the rooms. It was small and dark and smelt of mildew, and old paper. I breathed it all in with relish. I picked the books that'd that'd I'd left there and stuffed them into my backpack. I looked out the door and at Rachael and that's when I saw it. Her shirt had lifted up slightly, just enough for me to see her scarred back. Scars ran like join-the-dot lines, angry red.

My hands clenched the desk in front of me until they where as white as a ghosts. I'd done this to her, I'd caused those scars. I'd hit her, all those years ago. I closed my eyes briefly, and I saw the face of seventeen year old Rachael, reaching out a door as I held a smashed beer bottle in one hand and my fist clenched, ready to punch.

"Luke?" Rachael said from behind me, she grabbed my arm and guided me to the living room where she plopped herself down on one of the couches.

"I should never have come back, Rachael. I'm sorry." I said. I realized that I wasn't just saying sorry for coming here, I was saying sorry for all those years she had feared me. She didn't say anything, just fidgeted with her bracelet.

"I think you should go." Rachael said softly. Those five words cut me more than words should, and the worst part was that I knew that if I was her I would have said the same thing. I got up and Rachael showed me to the door, trying not to meet my gaze.

As I stepped out into the cold wind, I threw one last look at the closed door, perhaps hoping that the churn of feelings would suddenly go away. But I was disappointed, because they grew and grew and grew, until I knew I couldn't take it any more.