Antarctica
"There's nothing left for us but altitude, we'll be the kings of the air"
In typical Roxy fashion, protagonist is selfish and horrible, parents are neglectful and sanity is scarce.
Enjoy earthlings!
Part One - "Lion Skin"
"I stumble in and I stumble out of unfamiliar rooms in foreign houses, but I'm at home, a ghost that has left behind his sheets, unrequited, until I wake up somewhere I know I've never been"
Total silence entombed the Lawrence household. Nothing but the clock ticking, time passing, moments passing by. Some kind of architectural ruin of a family, the twelve apostles eroding away due to harsh weather - wear and tear. But not really twelve, seven - eight became seven just like that. Like a rabbit out of a hat, like the coin that disappears right in front of your very eyes - a blinding flash and squealing tires. Milo Lawrence would assume, nobody knows for sure - no survivors and all that tragedy.
All the pomp and folly of hysterics. In surround sound and colour and he thinks how did this become my life? It’s all a pantomime, painted faces and bad acting; it’s gluttony and spotlight ringing ears. Flowers and hugs and I’m so sorry’s. It’s all down to Jemma, it’s always down to Jemma - sweet, innocent, tragic Jemma. Mummy’s prodigy, dead at seventeen. Go figure. Even now, Jemma pulls the strings from beyond the grave cause without her life just stops and honestly, with Jemma dead what point would there be to go on anyway? What use are the other five children?
The kitchen is barren, desolate even. Doesn’t matter that there are already four kids and Dad sitting at the table; they aren’t offering up any signs of life anyway. Something akin to Antarctica, the remotest part of the Sahara, the belly of the earth or the bottom of the ocean, that’s what this kitchen is.
That’s what this family is. Sinking like treasure from a shipwreck, yeah, Milo thinks, they’ll find us one day - all rusty and covered in algae, as we were, in pieces. Scattered across the ocean floor.
They feel awkward around each other, siblings tiptoeing around one another, walking on eggshells so as not to wake their Mother’s shadow. At least Milo could talk to Jemma, even though he hated her.
Now life was lackluster, there wasn’t anything worth paying attention too. The pantomime had been sucked out of their existence and all that is left is some crappy black-and-white silent film. There wasn’t any glamour left, there barely had been to start with - now it was Tequila shots in Aubrey’s lounge room, listening to the sounds of Lyndell and Jordan having sex through the paper-thin walls.
Life was just a series of rooms, home, school, Aubrey’s - a series of faces without life behind their eyes.
This was the group at its core, they’d always been the group before Jemma and they still were the group after Jemma. And unlike at home, not everything revolved around Jemma. Milo was the quiet, mysterious one, Lyndell McMahon was the free spirit - the little sister, Jamie Taylor was the sweet, never-selfish one, Jordan Morgan was private and intense and lastly, Aubrey Chase, Aubrey was resilient, cheerful and empathetic. Milo liked to think she kept them together.
Milo was grateful for them, even if they could never understand him. Nobody would, or could.
Sometimes Jemma comes to Milo, she screams “What do you want from me?!” and Milo thinks a fall from grace, something catastrophic like the holocaust but he’ll ever say it as his sisters ghost lingers in their hallway. She stares him down and waits, the kind of stare she used to give Tyler when she babysat. What she’s waiting for, Milo doesn’t know - for a breakdown, a reaction or perhaps for an apology. She’ll never get one, she can haunt him for the rest of his life and he’ll never apologise.
“I hate you” he says, voice as black and dead as Jemma - he’ll breathe fire next, and Jemma has ringside seats. “Why?!” Jemma always replies, she shrieks the word like a banshee - like Milo just stole her heart and ate it. “Because you’re perfect” was always the reply. He’d reach out to touch her, to strike her, to put a scratch on her pretty little porcelain cheek. To destroy his own flesh and blood.
Sometimes, Jemma comes to Milo, but only in his dreams.
Milo is a living ghost, he floats through life and watches people live. He perches himself upon chairs and beds and floors - bones sticking out every which-way, scarecrow-like. He’d never let another person reach out and touch him the way Jordan did to Lyndell, never let them see the great cavern of his insides, the dusty dark corners suffering through years of neglect. He’d never let any other living soul see his sore spots and tender areas, he’d never allow somebody see through the cracks or else they might realise all that he is is pieces of broken glass sticky-taped back together. His internal organs are as desolate and barren as his kitchen, his skin translucent under scrutiny. The network of veins and arteries on show to the world; his skin working overtime trying to keep his bones from poking through, to stop himself from turning inside out. As topsy-turvy as his consciousness - insides matching outsides.
Because being dead is quite possibly the best hand you could play in this competition, everything Milo does will always be overshadowed by Jemma’s tragic death. Milo see’s this in Jordan too, Jordan does not look like a scarecrow but his eyes match Milo’s. The way Jordan pauses at mirrors and stares at cake like it is the be all, end all of the entire universe. The way he tugs at the hem of his shirt or covers his stomach with his folder as they walk to class. The way he lives in a world of his very own - walks on hot coals and sleeps in his own bed of nails. Milo is familiar with this world view - he wrote the book on it.
Milo knows he could die; that’s part of the fun - but Jordan, he thinks, doesn’t know the half the danger he’s in.
Peering over the toilet bowl, wondering what Jordan sees in it. Maybe, at least, his insides talk back.
Maybe, at least, there’s some kind of closure in physically seeing, smelling, feeling your efforts laid out in front of you. This isn’t some illusion or disappearing act, this is destruction you can feel ripping you apart. Maybe, years ago Milo would’ve liked someone to talk back but now there’s demons he cannot silence. Apparitions who refuse to leave, she lingers by the mirror, perches herself on the sink and stands behind him at the dinner table. Maybe Milo would’ve liked his Mother to have held him the night he answered the goddamn door, somebody to tell him he was dreaming - but there wasn’t. There wont be, because Milo wasn’t, isn’t the type of kid worth noticing. He’s like the big black raven looming in the background, a bad omen. Jemma was the great tragic loss to the world, the better sibling and Milo was the only one who saw it. The only one who saw through it all too, all that shit in the papers. Everyone at school crying because it was just so damn tragic. Nobody cared that Milo answered the door, he picked up the pieces and made sure his little sisters didn’t starve. Shia, the oldest was doing his HSC, Carey, the sister between Milo and Jemma, avoided home like the plague, dodged the hysteria. So Milo, thirteen-year-old lost and confused Milo picked up the slack, and nobody has ever thanked him for it.
That’s when he knew he needed to disappear, slowly but surely.
When Jordan kisses Milo in Aubrey’s lounge room after too much Tequila, right in front of Lyndell, Milo runs away as far as he can. Which is unfortunately only as far as Aubrey’s kitchen and he runs straight into Aubrey’s older sister Harper. “You alright?” she asks. “Yeah” he replies, catching his breath “yeah, just need a glass of water” his hands are shaking. He can breathe fire when he wants to - breathe smoke, asphyxiate, smother, ruin. He feels a hand on his shoulder, he turns abruptly, sharp intake of breath - it’s Jemma. She’s never touched him before. “Don’t” she says “he’ll ruin us”
“Milo?” he turns to face the other direction, a bundle of nerves and irregular heartbeats - Jordan.
He turns back to Jemma but she’s gone, he can’t feel her but he can still see her in his mind, lingering like smoke. He can’t decide who the deadly-all-consuming virus is; him, Jordan or Jemma. Us? How can he ruin us? You’re dead. “Milo, I didn’t mean t..” Jordan tries again “Milo… I-“
“Don’t” Milo cuts him off, sounding eerily like Jemma “I’m not like that” “Like what?” Jordan asks, confused. “I’m not one of your magic tricks, now you see him, now you don’t? Get it?” Milo says “I’m not you’re goddamn disappearing act” I’m my own, I don’t need you.
“Go tell Lyndell you love her” Milo says, the grand finale approaches “and, at least pretend to”
The coldness of the tiles should’ve sent Milo’s knees blue by now, he bruises easier than he used to, like the slightest touch will send his skin into panic. But he hasn’t felt it, he hasn’t felt it for three years now. All he feels is empty, cold, hollow, desolate. Tonight this wasn’t the desired effect and it’s definitely not as satisfying as he thought it’d be. It feels like falling down a rabbit hole, spiraling out of control. Perhaps Jordan is truly shameless as, tears of shame and humiliation sting Milo’s cheeks. Jemma isn’t helping, she’s perched on the sink, licking up his tears and misery and suffering. And so she should, she should savor every moment of his suffering because of his hatred - her revenge is truly warranted.
His face burns hot and his throat is on fire, he can’t feel the cold and that’s why he’s so scared. He needs to feel the comfort of the empty cold, Antarctica - alone and silent in his suffering. Now Jemma won’t leave him alone, how can he bury himself in ice and snow and desolation when his big sister is always here watching him fail so contentedly? “Are you gonna cry, baby brother?” she says, a menacing tone she never used on Milo when alive. “Are you gonna cry? Huh? Jemma wouldn’t cry”
“What?” is the only sound Milo can manage to muster.
She lunges toward him, backs him into a corner. She grabs him by the collar and thrusts him against the wall, so hard he is winded. “You’ll never be like her” she says; and she doesn’t have to yell, her tone is so venomous it could curdle milk, wilt flowers and shrivel hopes and dreams.
Part Two - "Monster"
"I'm only human, I've got a skeleton in me
But I'm not the villain, despite what you're always preaching
Call me a traitor..."
Milo and Jordan are studying together at Milo’s kitchen table; because they are the only two in the group to attempt advanced maths. They haven’t talked about what happened at Aubrey’s, Jordan appears to have forgotten and Milo has been so distracted by Jemma’s incessant presence he has barely thought about the living for days now. He should care but he doesn’t, Jordan is like his complete opposite - but some how, on some level they’re the same, damaged inside.
Jordan is so alone and miserable he reaches out; still managing to destroy everything he touches and Milo is so beyond redemption he withdraws into the cold barren landscape of his Antarctica.
Together they could destroy everything.
“Lyndell is pregnant” Jordan says suddenly and Milo resists the urge to say ‘I told you so’.
Milo’s younger sister Logan is stacking the dishwasher behind them, Milo shifts in his seat awkwardly.
Either Jordan hasn’t seen her or is too distraught to care. Milo looks back at her but relaxes when he sees she obviously isn’t listening, she has earphones in her ears and isn’t looking in their direction even slightly. “What do I do?” Jordan says. Milo shrugs, he so doesn’t need to hear this right now, not with Jemma on his heels and year eleven closing in and those five kilos that just won’t shift.
“Figure it out with her” Milo says, and it comes out frostier than he intended, Jordan’s watery blue eyes look like they might just overflow - and that really is the last thing he wants. He grapples for an answer that a good friend, a good person might give. “Jordan… I er, I really don’t know. Just, don’t force her to do something she doesn’t want, and please, please don’t leave her alone”
The thought of Lyndell having a baby is unnerving to Milo, as was the notion of Lyndell having sex.
Lyndell is the same age as Milo’s youngest sister Tyler - and the thought of Tyler doing the same is pretty scary to Milo. Even if she is fifteen now, not eleven.
Milo often feels like a walking time capsule, preserved as a thirteen-year-old for life. Even though he is taller, his voice deeper he still feels like that same kid that opened the door to three solemn-looking police officers one fateful Friday night at 3 in the morning. As everyone else matures and grows he cannot. It’s ironic, all through the funeral, the flowers and the ‘I’m-so-sorrys’ Milo just wished they’d all shut up. Cut the pomp and folly of hysterics. Now, he can’t stand watching his younger sisters grow up and move forward. You could lose anything in the blink of an eye; Jemma found out the hard way.
“I can’t have Jordan’s baby” Lyndell says “definitely not” Milo can’t help himself “Why not, Della?” things could be worse for her, like if it were his kid she’d be beyond screwed. Nobody wants a haunted scarecrow for a Father. “Because, he’s useless” she says “he’s always been useless”
Milo kind of has to agree with her, Jordan reaches out then does everything wrong - destroying the walls he built; eroding security. Jordan is bumbling in a more sinister, destructive manner than he could ever know. Milo knows what Lyndell will do; she’s the only person in this screwed up circle with and insight for the future, and rightly so - she’s the only one who has one.
Jordan stays over one night, in a desperate attempt to cram before a huge math test. Normally Milo wouldn’t worry, even just after Jemma died Milo’s grades didn’t slip. They couldn’t, Milo couldn’t afford it. With Jemma gone there was less competition; he could step up and take the vacant spot as golden child. That’s if the spot had even been vacant in the first place, nobody had told him that even with Jemma gone life would always be about her - her death overshadowing Milo’s every accomplishment. Straight A’s didn’t matter, winning debating was irrelevant and the fact that he won the most prestigious essay competition in the state was ignored. That was when Milo knew that his parents weren’t going to look twice at him if he was clever; they’d just think of Jemma. And he’d always pale in comparison, no, he had to be the best for him. He had to drown, erode, fade away. They’d miss him when he was gone; but that was for later, for now he had to keep up the game. He still had to be the same straight A student he’d always been. They’d feel so guilty for never knowing anything was wrong; and that was the best revenge he could wish for. But lately; his grades have slipped, only from an A+ to an A but still, it’s something that doesn’t, can’t happen. It’s getting harder to sleep; to think - to breathe. He truly is a husk lost in freezing cold, just drifting, floating, dying - the usual. Time has slowed down and Milo’s heart with it. Jemma appears to him in the dead of night; Milo, forever and insomniac is awake, while Jordan sleeps peacefully beside him. Jemma appears and stares disapprovingly at the other boy in Milo’s bed. “Cut your losses kid” she says “he’s just slowing us down; holding us back”
“We’re not together” Milo says “you were there that night at Aubrey’s, you saw”
“I saw you running scared; like you always are. My crying, whingeing, terrified baby brother. Pathetic”
“I did what you wanted” Milo says, his voice wavering “Are you saying I can’t be his friend? He’s sick! He doesn’t know it yet, but he needs me!” Jemma turns to face him, she’s about a head shorter but she still manages to look seven feet tall “Like Logan and Tyler needed you?! Like how Mummy and Daddy relied on you?! Fat lot of good that did you Milo, look where it got you! Even I don’t want you, but I’m stuck with you. Years of striving and crying and such hard work and still you’re not good enough!”
“People just contaminate me” Milo whispers to the mirror.
“Let’s not mention what you did to poor old Jemma!” Jemma shrieks, her once-bright baby blue orbs black and cold. “What?!” Milo exclaims “What are you?” “You turned her into a villain; an enemy. She loved you and look what you’ve turned her into; me into! Look what you’ve done to us, we’re warped now. Forever! Some kind of monster hybrid, and we’ll follow you forever Milo; until we kill you. And you know we will. This is what you get, Milo Lawrence; for breaking your big sisters heart!”
Milo’s hands shake as he reaches out to the thing, whatever it is “You’re not Jemma” he says his voice about as steady as his hands “Jemma would never say those things to me, she loved me” she, it, looks at him long and hard “Duh” is it’s only reply as it fades away with the inevitable sunrise.
Outwardly; Jemma Marie Lawrence was absolute perfection. She was a Lawrence through and through as all of the Lawrence children are tall, pale, blue-eyed and dark-haired with the exception of Logan; who was somewhat of an alien with her natural bright red hair and green eyes. Jemma was on the SRC, a straight A student, she was the best ballet dancer in the school and had the voice of an angel. She was easily the smartest, most talented of the siblings. Milo was talented and clever too; but never on par with Jemma and always forgotten. The other children didn’t seem to mind much; Shia and Tyler were good at sports (Shia played basketball and Tyler swam) and Carey and Logan were social butterflies who were content with being average as long as there was a party to go to. Milo always wanted to be the best but could never compete with his effortlessly talented older sister. But Jemma wasn’t and angel; she had other sides to her that their parents were unaware of. It wasn’t that she was a bad person; no, of course Jemma had a generous caring nature to match her amazing talents, but she wasn’t a martyr. Not like the papers say she was, Jemma didn’t go out to one party and get into the wrong car and unluckily die in a fiery wreck. Not like everyone made out; Jemma went out most Friday nights and often got into overloaded P plated cars with drunken drivers. It wasn’t one stupid mistake; she increased her odds every weekend. Only one time; the odds weren’t tipped in her favour. It wasn’t like any car wreck, it was one of the most violent car wrecks of the year, five car pile-up, no survivors - all from the same party. And Jemma and her friends are completely to blame. Milo’s not saying he didn’t miss her when she was gone; but the attention her death got, the spin, it drove him mad with jealousy. Even in death Jemma had to have all eyes on her, and he couldn’t help it. Years of neglect had sent him bitter.
Lyndell had an abortion. She cried about it one night at Aubrey’s; Jordan wasn’t there, he was ‘sick’ but Milo knew it was a self-inflicted kind of sick. He tried not to let a flicker of worry cross his eyes when Aubrey explained Jordan’s absence. She cried on Jamie’s shoulder which doesn’t surprise Milo, Jamie’s always been as generous and kind as Jemma ever was. Jamie was the kind of guy you could rely on; not like Jordan or Milo with their twisted psyches and rotting insides. They knew too much; were too jaded.
Drunk as all hell she just keeps repeating “I killed my baby; I killed my baby” her face buried in Jamie’s hoodie. Aubrey pats her on the shoulder but Milo doesn’t know what to do.
Then Jemma appears in the corner, her eyes are blue again and she looks soft and kind - the way she used to. Nobody looks up to her but Milo; she sits down beside him. “Wasn’t I a good big sister?” she asks “I tried so hard Milo, but I was just never good enough for you… I didn’t know how to be”
Milo feels sick to his stomach; this is what you get; Milo Lawrence, for breaking your big sisters heart.
And it hurts more than it should; all he can think is: Lyndell killed her baby; I broke my sisters heart.
The next time Jordan stays over is when it all comes to a bitter head. Milo is by the mirror and Jordan is asleep; as per usual. And Jemma appears, only it’s not Jemma, it’s the thing. That thing is the great void in his chest, it expands his Antarctica and freezes his heart. Jemma could help him stitch it back together, if only he could reach her. But all he gets is his dark side taking the form of his dead sister. “You’re losing it Milo” the thing says, it has no patience for his disobedience any longer “it’s that boy, he’s thawing out Antarctica. We both know you need Antarctica” “You say I do” Milo says “and I always believed you, I trusted you because you looked like Jemma, but you’re not. You’re a black hole - you’re out to destroy anything and everything!” “You can’t love this kid, you couldn’t even love your own sister” it challenges him from Jemma’s lips. “You’re wrong” Milo says, voice cracking and tears flowing “I do love her” “But she ruined us!” screams the apparition but Milo just shakes his head “You ruined me! I ruined myself. I’m going to be there for Jordan, even if I never let Jemma be there for me. I can and will get this right!” and to this the apparition scoffs. Jordan stirs, he sits up in bed and looks on Milo with horror “Who are you talking to Milo?!” he exclaims, Milo ignores him. “You’re not my Jemma” he says and it comes out braver than he feels “give her back to me, I need her” “Milo…” Jordan says “You’re scaring me”
The apparition fades and he turns to Jordan “Have you ever been so hungry you’d kill your own Mother if you had to? So ravenous you’d eat everything in the kitchen and barely even taste it?” Jordan doesn’t answer “I have” Milo answers for him “And then you come back to reality and realise what you’ve done, the mess you’ve made and you almost can’t believe you’ve caused this much destruction. You know your hunger, your basic human need, your survival instincts, caused this. And then your stomach hurts, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Like… like possession, and you have to conduct an exorcism, so you kneel at the altar and pray. You pray for salvation, for forgiveness, for redemption. It’s never enough, so you pray for change. To be different, but nothing ever changes. The beast inside is still ravenous and you do all but die to keep it at bay, but it’s never enough. Nothing ever is. And one day, you wake up in tears thinking, how did this rut, this disgusting cycle of excess and nothingness become my life?” he says, he’s not sure where this is coming from but it’s all such truth it stings his chest and he’s not used to these feeling, he’s been numb for so long. “And I have, but I’m stuck, a life member. It’s my life now, that dark shadowy thing hiding in the back of my head can’t be silenced and I don’t want this for you. Please, please don’t let my life become yours Jordan” Jordan’s eyes are wet, he looks like he wants to run out the door but he doesn’t. He’s pinned to the wall by Milo’s gaze and Milo won’t let go, not now not ever. “You don’t understand” Jordan says, gulping back a sob creeping up his throat “it..-“
“It just hurts so much, right? Like you’ll never be good enough?” Milo finishes. Jordan just nods a silent tear falling down his cheek he starts to sob as Jemma reappears behind him. Only it’s the real Jemma this time, she reaches out to him her blue eyes filled with love. “It’s like you possessed me” she says “made me into somebody I wasn’t. I wanted to reach out and touch you so bad, just to hug you and tell you it’d be okay. But you never wanted to hear from me, you always pulled away so I let you be, hoping you’d come around in time. All I could think of when the car tires were squealing, when that blinding light was set to make me disappear forever all I could think of was I let my baby brother down. Even now you’ve got to twist me and turn me into something I’m not. Evil, demonic, hell bent on ruining you. I just wanted you to be happy. I never meant to leave you on your own so early” she says “I can’t fix you even now” “Don’t go, please” Milo says, his breath hitching in his throat as he suppresses the urge to bawl like a baby “I need you” Jemma shakes her head, Jordan is still crying on the bed and Milo can’t hold it back anymore. He wants nothing more than his big sister back, he wants her here to protect him from all the bad in the world, in himself, he wants her here to hold him and tell him she loves him. He needs her here, he wasted his whole life hating her when in reality, she was the only one on his team. The floodgates open and he falls to the floor, he’s never cried so hard in his life, it’s like, for the first time in three years he’s properly grieving for Jemma, not just missing her. How can he be jealous of a girl who’s dead? She’ll never feel, laugh, love, hope ever again.
“Don’t go” he says again “please, don’t leave me. I still need you, I love you so, so much Jemma”
Jordan clambers out of the bed, he puts his arms round Milo, momentarily forgetting his own despair.
“You can’t hold onto me forever” Jemma replies, she’s beginning to disappear “I let you down” she finished. “I’m sorry!” Milo screams “Jemma! I’m so sorry!” he screams out into nothingness, just air and atoms and particles, but not Jemma. He needs Jemma. “I love you too” he hears her say but he can’t see her. He cries hopelessly, Jemma is gone, this time forever.
“Shhh” Jordan says and strokes his hair, but Milo can’t calm down, he needs this, he needs this to feel alive. Jordan holds him as he cries “Don’t cry Milo” he whispers into the dark “I promise it’ll be okay”
And Antarctica begins to thaw.
"Before you fly you'll fall
Before you'll walk you'll crawl
Stolen by the wind that turns the leaves to razors
Holding just a string, our twine and our paper
Lost to the breeze"