Zac tossed his blades onto the faded brown couch of the living room before turning and shutting the door behind him.
"Get those roller blades up off the couch this minute young man!" His mother commanded from the kitchen.
He shook his head as he grabbed the black and yellow blades before heading upstairs. Sometimes he hated that stupid motherly intuition.
Zac pulled open the closet door and threw his helmet and other crap in there, not bothering to look where it flew. There were small thumps as the stuff hit the wall before bouncing down to the floor where they would stay until Zac chose to use them again. Which meant that they were guaranteed a week's time in the floor.
Turning, he exited the room and walked down to the kitchen, looking for the phone. It wasn't on the base and didn't seem to be in the kitchen. Rather than search for it, he asked.
"Mom, do you know where the phone is?"
"I think Taylor has it, sweetie." She looked at him over her newspaper and Zac nodded.
He left the room while muttering under his breath. "Damn it."
He paused in the middle of the dark living room, thinking as to where his buttmunch older brother could be. Ike was playing his guitar in the garage. He wasnít in there..
Shrugging, he went into his room. He could use it later. When Zac sat down on his bed, he realized that maybe Hera's bruises weren't from a beating after all. Maybe he had just jumped to conclusions. They were more than likely from skating without a helmet on like she had done today.
Deciding that to his self, he closed his eyes to sleep. But his dreams were of her getting beaten by a man that he didn't know, he could only see the manís back.