by Vera Hollins
“Fine,” he said through his teeth.
I raised my eyebrows, barely resisting the urge to raise my fist in the air in triumph. “Fine?” I asked, purely provoking him.
His glare slashed into me. “You heard me the first time, bitch. You can stay, but if you do anything to my brother, I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
Hurt punched my stomach; it came as an echo of the time when I’d actually wished I’d never been born. It was during the time when I’d become a living shell, broken into a thousand fragments, never to be fixed again. Barbie would never know that no matter what he did to me, it wouldn’t even come close to what I’d already gone through. You couldn’t break what was already broken.
I clenched my hands. “Try me, Barbie. But if you hurt me, I’ll hurt you twice as hard. No one messes with me. No one.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but then he looked at Eli and cursed under his breath. Without a word, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the room.
“That went well,” I muttered, massaging my neck to get rid of some of the tension. “Sorry for the freak show, General Fabulous. I probably should’ve told you that your brother and I don’t get along at all.”
“But why not?”
I shrugged. “I guess it’s just one of those mysteries of the universe. We don’t like each other, that’s all. Thanks for sticking up for me. I owe you one.”
His lips quirked up for a moment. “Don’t worry about it.” His gaze dropped. “I guess I should apologize, too. Mace . . . he isn’t usually like that. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I promise he’s not bad.”
I didn’t have it in me to disagree with him. I just nodded and said, “It’s already forgotten.”
Barbie was wrong. I hadn’t come here to hurt him using his brother—I would never use Eli to hurt him—but if there was anything our altercation had shown me, it was that I had a golden opportunity. I could use this situation to get back at him for lying to the principal. If he was so mad to see me here, as much as I hated seeing him, I would keep coming. I would keep coming and making sure I spoiled his day. Every. Single. Time.
Someone had to show him his place, and I was glad to do the honors.
After I left Eli’s house, I drove to Somers to see my dad, since we hadn’t talked in a while. He was always super busy working on his cases, owning a law firm and all that, and more often than not, I was only able to speak to his assistant. He’d even once forgotten he’d agreed to meet me for dinner, and I’d ended up waiting for him at the restaurant like the biggest fool. So much for being his favorite child.
The part of me that cared missed him. Another part—the one that blamed him for everything going on in our family—wanted to shout at him and tell him he was the world’s lousiest parent. Steven was missing, and if only he would care more about his son and do something, anything, to show Steven that he cared, then maybe . . .
Maybe, maybe, maybe. And nothing more than that.
I pulled up in front of our house—or should I say, Dad’s house—and jumped out. Memories and emotions flooded over me—nostalgia—reminding me that change was a powerful adversary which could strip you of all control and sense of direction. I’d lived here my whole life, until my parents filed for divorce and the battle of “Who’s getting what?” started. Ultimately, they had managed to reach an agreement, and Mom, Steven, and I had left to live with my grandparents.
Their house had been cozy, and my grandparents had been supportive and sweet, but it hadn’t felt like home. It had been a reminder of what had been lost and a mark of more disappointments to come. Then we moved to our new house, keeping the ball rolling with letdowns, and it was then that the shit really hit the fan in the form of Steven’s addiction.
I missed my home.
I used my key to enter the house and embraced the familiar scent that greeted me. It was the smell of cedar, warm blankets, and Dad’s cologne, and I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. It was soothing. It made me believe, at least for a second, that everything was going to be all right.
I made a beeline for Steven’s room, clutching onto the hope that he’d been there all this time, no matter how improbable that hope was. My quick footsteps reverberated through the empty house, matching the beat of my heart, which grew faster the closer I got to his room. If that sack of stupidity wasn’t there, I was going to sell him the first chance I got.
I swung open the door and stepped into his room. It was as empty as could be. His old furniture was clearly unused since the time we’d left this house. I checked other rooms just in case, including mine, but they were all empty. I didn’t stay long in my room, knowing it would bring me bittersweet memories I wasn’t ready to deal with at the moment.
My next stop was Steven’s entertainment room downstairs, but the result was the same, and my hope faded away to nothing. I could almost feel his presence, which made everything hurt even more.
I went to the pool table and grabbed the eight ball, struck by a sudden desire to hurl it into something breakable, preferably the bottles of Steven’s alcohol, which stood untouched on the liquor shelves. I tightened my fingers around the ball, my breath quickening. Steven was nowhere to be found, and at this rate, he could be gone forever.
Fuck.
I threw myself down on the red leather sectional sofa and tossed the ball in the air, struggling to take even breaths. Tension edged deeper into my body, and I hit my fist against the sofa, wishing it weren’t so soft, but much harder, so I would feel pain.
“I will seriously kill you when I see you, idiot,” I said in a raspy voice.
A clear image formed in my mind—it was of Steven somewhere on his way to find another fix, or in danger, with a broken nose and out of control. This only painted more horrifying scenarios, ripping apart what little control I had.
Somebody could kill him. The police could arrest him. He could get beaten up. He could be lying in a pool of his own puke or blood. He could overdose.
He could already be dead.
I needed to move. I flung the ball at the wall and rushed out of the entertainment room, my throat closing up on me.
I went to the kitchen and grabbed a large bottle of water from the fridge. I didn’t bother to use a glass, just uncapped the bottle and drank straight from it. The coolness slid down my throat, providing some small relief.
Just as I slammed down the bottle, the front door opened, announcing Dad’s return. A couple of seconds and footsteps later, he entered the kitchen and stopped when he saw me, his eyes widening.
“Meli? What are you doing here?”
I studied his face, which looked fresher than the morning dew, and noted bitterly that the divorce hadn’t taken the same toll on him as it had on Mom. He hadn’t been gifted with new wrinkles and permanent bags under his eyes. No, he’d been gifted with the freedom to do whatever he wanted, letting all the responsibilities fall on her.
I gave him a wry smile. “No ‘hi’? No ‘how are you, I missed you’? If I recall correctly, this is still my house, too.”
He approached me and kissed my forehead. “Of course. Hi, how are you? I’m just surprised to see you since you don’t come here very often.”
“And how would you know that? You practically live at your firm.”
He pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge with a sigh. “Right. I have been extremely busy lately. How’s your mom?”
“She’s living like a queen in our new multi-million-dollar mansion.” I rolled my eyes and returned the water bottle to the fridge. “How do you think she’d be, Dad? She’s doing the best she can with her work and children—on her own.”
“Right,” he repeated. “Meli, you know this was for the best. You and I didn’t talk much about your mother and our divorce, but the truth is we couldn’t live that way anymore.”
I sat at the kitchen island. “You didn’t even try.”
He sat down across from me. “That’s not fair. We struggled for a long time, to the
point where it became unbearable. We tried to save our marriage for you and Steven, but in the end, we had to do what we had to do to keep our sanity. To keep Steven’s and your sanity.”
I balled my hands into fists on the counter. “That’s a lie. You didn’t even think about Steven or me.”
He let out another sigh and took off his glasses to knead the spot between his eyes. “One day you will understand—”
“Understand what? That you’re living your perfect life while we struggle? Do you even know how hard it is to deal with Steven? It’s getting worse every day. And, once again, he took off somewhere and hasn’t been home in days.”
He returned his glasses to his nose with a frown. “Steven took off again?”
I snorted. “Surprise, surprise. The Earth is round, after all. I thought maybe he was here, but he’s not.”
“Why would he come here? You know we haven’t been getting along lately.”
Hadn’t been getting along? That was the fricking understatement of the century. I’d lost count of how many times they’d stopped speaking to each other. Dad saw Steven as a delinquent who was going to end up on the streets or in prison if he didn’t shape up and go to college, and they could never find common ground.
“Really? You don’t say. I wonder whose fault that is.”
“Meli—”
I stood up and slammed my hands against the counter. I had to get out of here, because at this rate, I’d have a heart attack from all this pent-up anger.
“No, Dad. Don’t tell me how you can’t understand him or get through to him. You were always so strict with him, but I thought maybe you’d change and start caring more about your family than your work.”
“It’s not that I don’t care about you, because of course I do, but—”
“Save your excuses. They got old ages ago. I’m leaving. See ya.”
I placed a quick kiss on his cheek and left before I said something I’d regret.
“Don’t pretend with me,” he said.
I whimpered, trying to move, but I couldn’t.
Inside, I was falling. I was falling too quickly, and I couldn’t stop.
His cruel chuckle ripped through me.
I needed to move. I needed to do something.
Help! Help! Help!
The word echoed in my mind, forever trapped in darkness.
Darkness enveloped my whole world.
And then . . .
I was reduced to nothing.
I—
The sound of a crash ripped through my nightmare, and I instantly awoke, jolting upright in my bed with my hand to my throat. My chest was heaving, sweat coating my whole body, and I was disoriented as the nightmare mixed with reality. Not again. I was supposed to be over this.
I wrapped my arms around my knees and whimpered, rocking back and forth.
I’m all right. It was just a nightmare. I’m safe.
I rocked myself faster.
It’s just a tiny, little nightmare. Nothing more. Big deal. It ain’t got nothing on me.
“Fuck,” someone shouted, and I stilled.
Shit. I hadn’t dreamed that crash. Someone was in the other room.
Steven’s room.
“Steven!” I jumped out of bed and rushed to his room in my pajamas, my already quick pulse kicking up another notch.
“Be careful,” Steven yelled at someone. “We can’t afford to waste shit!”
I skidded to a stop in his doorway, taking in the scene in front of me. Steven’s gigantic flat-screen TV lay on the ground at an odd angle, its screen shattered into a thousand pieces. Two large boxes stuffed with Steven’s computer and other expensive gadgets were next to the broken TV. Steven was fully dressed, like he was just passing by, only he wasn’t passing by. He was stealing from his own house.
He stood next to a guy I didn’t recognize, but judging from the guy’s looks, he was one of Steven’s junkie friends. I hated that Steven had brought him here.
“If you don’t get out of my house right this second, I’m calling the cops,” I said to the guy as I darted into the room, the tension left over from my nightmare doubling.
He snarled at me, revealing his damaged, black teeth. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Go away.”
Fucking asshole. “Sure, I’ll go away. To call the police.”
I swiveled around to retrieve my phone from my room, but I didn’t make more than two steps before the guy grabbed my upper arm to stop me. Fear clashed with fury, and I moved fast. I punched him in his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor.
“Don’t touch me,” I said through bared teeth and charged at him, hungry for more violence.
I swung my leg and kicked him in the ribs. I wanted nothing more than to break every single bone in his body and show him no one touched me without my permission.
Steven grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back. “That’s enough!”
I shrugged his hands off my shoulders. “Then you better tell your friend to back off.”
Steven glanced between me and the guy. “What are you even doing here? You’re supposed to be at school!”
I chuckled incredulously. “I could ask you the same thing, you dead brain cell! What in the hell are you doing? How dare you steal behind our backs?”
“Stealing? This is my stuff, sis.” He pointed at the boxes. “And taking what’s yours isn’t stealing.”
“In my book, it is stealing when you’re doing it in secret and for bad reasons! You’re certainly not donating this stuff to Goodwill! You’re going to sell it to get money to buy more drugs!”
Steven clapped. His sneer was etched onto his face, which twisted his crooked and obviously broken nose even more. “Wow, sis. I bow to you.” He made the most mocking bow ever. “You’re the queen of deductions. I’m almost crying tears of joy for having such a bright sister.”
His friend stood up, glaring at me in a way that I figured was supposed to make me feel intimidated, but I only felt enraged. “Get out, or I’m calling the cops,” I told him.
“Call the cops, and you won’t ever see me again,” Steven said, his eyes full of anger and disgust.
My breath halted, pain spreading roots in my chest as I stared at him silently. I didn’t recognize this stranger—this angry stranger who didn’t care about anything or anyone except getting wasted. My brother, who had gone down a path I couldn’t follow.
What had happened to him? What had happened to us?
“You’ve changed,” I said. My heart was sinking down in a never-ending spiral. “You’re this drug-obsessed delinquent, and you’re getting worse. I’m not sure how much longer I can have your back.”
His eyebrows went up. “I’ve changed? What about you? Where is that sister who actually listened to me? Who tried to understand me instead of always treating me like her punching bag?” I winced. “Don’t preach to me about changing when you’re the master of change.” I looked away, rubbing my upper arm. “You’re this hateful, judgmental, aggressive bitch who keeps barking and never stops to think how badly she can hurt someone. Always so explosive. You don’t talk to me anymore. You just keep barking.”
I sliced him with a glare, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yes, but so what? I have changed, but you should understand why. You saw me then. I was a wreck!”
“So, you went through hell. Boo-hoo.”
I flinched. “Boo-hoo?”
“Yes, boo-fucking-hoo. We all know what happened was bad and that there are assholes out there. Life is shitty, but life goes on. However, you, you’re stuck in the past, set on hating the whole male sex just because of what happened to you. I am getting worse? Look at yourself first. You’re like a ticking time bomb. I want my cheerful, larger-than-life sister back. Not this stranger.”
I was shaking, my heart torn to more pieces I could never put back together. I looked between Steven and his “friend,” who observed us like he was watching the most popcorn-worthy drama, but suddenly, I was too emotionally
tired to fight him.
I cleared my throat and fixed a sad gaze upon Steven. “That cheerful, larger-than-life girl died the night her very soul was shattered. She’s not coming back. And do you know why? Because this hateful, judgmental, aggressive bitch is what’s keeping her alive. It’s what’s keeping her sane. So if this ticking time bomb explodes one day, so be it, because anything is better than being that innocent girl who trusted too much and gambled away everything she had.”
He observed me for a long time, sorrow overtaking his face. For the first time in a long time, I could see some clarity in those blue eyes, something deeper than the drug-induced fog that numbed him. He smiled, but the smile was desolate.
“And that’s why, sis, you can’t change me. Because, just like you, I’m owned by my self-destructive path.”
He picked up the box nearest to him and motioned to the guy to pick up the other. Silently, without a backward glance, they walked out of the room and out of my house, their retreating footsteps hammering nails into my cold heart, leaving yet another scar.
My mouth turned down into a frown as I looked at the birthday cake I’d made last night for Mr. J. I wished life were as easy to construct as this two-tiered chocolate cake sprinkled with strawberries and cherries. I wished addiction didn’t turn people into mindless drones who were ready to sell their kidney—hell, even their mother’s kidney—to get money for drugs.
I was afraid. Drug addiction to a family was like an enemy that could attack you from the shadows, and you never knew when the next attack would come. You didn’t know whether you’d already suffered the brunt of it, or if you had to brace yourself for something even worse, and judging by Steven’s desperate need for money, the situation was critical.
Back then, when he’d joined T’s gang, it was more for kicks than out of necessity. Then his addiction clawed its way deeper into him, and he started fighting and racing more—possibly doing other illegal stuff too—trying to make a fast buck. He started asking Mom for a bigger allowance, and when that wasn’t enough, he stole her credit cards. Mom brushed it off, forgiving him too easily after he spilled a few tears (I bet he’d held an onion in his hand so he could squeeze out those soap opera-worthy tears) and promised never to do it again.