Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I’m pulling into the hospital parking lot.
To pick up my sister.
Because she was so sad and upset and lonely, she tried to overdose.
All I had to do was talk to her. Instead, I blew her off to get my dick sucked. When I park and head toward to the hospital, Aunt Becky and Uncle Randy are walking out. Rylie walks between them. Pale and broken. So fucking broken.
“Want to ride with me?” I ask her as I approach.
Her eyes lift to mine. Light brown like the coffee I had at the diner. But coffee never looked so fucking hopeless. “I guess.”
I motion with my head and Aunt Becky flashes me a grateful look. Walking over to my beat-up truck, I open the door for my sister. She’s slow in her movements but manages to sit inside. Her fingers shake as she reaches for the seatbelt.
“I’ve got it,” I assure her, my voice gruff with emotion.
I tug the belt and stretch it across her tiny frame. So many times I buckled her in for Mom. This time feels different. I’m not helping my parent with my little sister. I’m having to be the parent for my little sister. The thought hits me hard and I shake it away.
My world is shifting on its axis.
Responsibilities are moving this way and that.
A deep sense of protectiveness over my sister settles over me. She’s always been a nuisance. A bother. Someone whom I resented because she didn’t try. Now, I see it’s more than an attitude. Her brain is wired differently. The pain I’ve seen lately in her eyes is real. So real. A living, breathing organism inside her. Something that if I knew how to lure it out of her, I would. I’d take it and kill it. I’d free my sad sister of the way it suffocates her from the inside out.
The truck starts and R.E.M. starts playing, “Everybody Hurts.” She sniffles from the passenger side as we drive. When I reach for her hand, she doesn’t pull away. With strength that surprises me, she squeezes my hand. As though I’ve thrown a raft into the choppy waters she’s been drowning in. The way she clings to me has me vowing nonverbally to the both of us that I’ll be a better brother to her. I won’t let her suffer alone. Not anymore.
Our fingers link and I don’t let her go.
The Hales are strong because we have to be.
When we arrive at Aunt Becky’s big house, I let out a sigh as I shut off the truck. Rylie stares out the side window. The pain we both feel over the loss of our parents is a never-ending punch to the gut.
“We should get inside,” I utter.
“Don’t go.” She turns her teary gaze my way. “Please.”
“I’ll stay for a while,” I promise. Coach will be upset I miss the game against Oklahoma State, but this is more important.
She smiles at me. Brilliant and happy. A smile I don’t fucking deserve.
“Thank you.”
I’m gutted at how one simple statement made my unhappy sister smile again. The depression eats at her day by day. Yes, I accuse her of being dramatic. No, I don’t believe that’s the truth. I’ve lived with her depression our entire lives. It’s something I can’t manage or control, so I choose to hate it instead. I treat it like it’s something she can just get over, knowing full well she can’t.
My expectations are unfair.
I’m an asshole.
She’s quiet as I help her out of the truck and into the house. I guide her to the refinished basement where Aunt Becky said I’m free to stay anytime I’m in town. I’ve unpacked some of my things from the old house but mostly, it’s filled with boxes of our memories. Rylie doesn’t ask to go to her room. She clutches onto me in such a desperate way, I realize just how much I’m needed.
Completely.
We sit down on the sofa and Rylie curls into me, seeking my comfort. I hug her to me. I inhale the familiar scent of her hair and try to whisper to her soft assurances. Promises that I hope fill her heart up.
“I’ll be more present.”
“You can talk to me whenever and I’ll answer.”
“You’re the most important thing to me.”
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I love you, Rylie.”
With each word that tumbles from my lips, she relaxes. I don’t relax until her soft breathing fills my ears. She sleeps, clutching onto my shirt like I might run away in her slumber. I cover her hand with mine and kiss the top of her head.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I murmur.
Not yet.
Not for a few more days.
Hang in there, Rylie.
I wake up in the pitch-black darkness soaked in sweat. I’m covered by a slight body and a heavy blanket. I manage to grab hold of the blanket and pull it away from us. Aunt Becky must have tried to help. Suffocating us is not helping.