Page 31 of King of Ruin

He smiles and nods. “Yeah. Guess I’ll have to fix that, huh.”

“Just so long as my sister can come release her fish anytime.” I turn and hold out my hand expectantly. One thing I’ve learned from Phineas that may actually be useful–act as if the deal is done and it will be. Something about fake confidence or some shit.

The man takes my hand and shakes firmly. “Anytime. Tell them Dante said it was okay.”

“Will do. Thank you.”

He gives me one last smirk before dropping his hand and turning back around. “You know, when the weight of the world calls for your humanity, it’s the ones we love that keep it bound to us. Even when we want nothing more than for it to swallow us whole. Take care, kid.”

Dante lifts two fingers and I’m able to make out the telltale click of safeties moving back into place. Even with him gone, his words remain like an ominous whisper. It’s as though he knows just how much I want everything to end. For the ground to open and take me from everything. But as he said, it’s because of Fiona and my mother that I latch onto the edges, digging my fingers into the dirt and waiting for the storm to pass.

Another three minutes go by until Fi waves goodbye to her last fish and finally stands, her empty bags clutched in one small fist. Her steps are slow and sad and even though my heart dies a little every Wednesday, it still aches to see her small face so fallen.

“Hey, chin up. You did a good thing.” Ninety percent chance those colorful fish were eaten by something big, brown, and ugly but there’s no way in hell I’m going to tell her that.

She tries to smile, her two new front teeth peeking from her poked-out lip. “I know. It was still sad saying goodbye though.”

I place my hand softly on the back of her head before drawing her into my chest for a bear hug. “How about we stop at Sue’s and see if she’s got some ice cream sandwiches. Those always seem to cheer you up.”

Fiona nods against my stomach before giving me one last squeeze. “Thank you, Zeky.”

“Ay, don’t worry about it.”

We release each other at the same time and walk hand in hand down the long dock until we get to the road and catch our bus home. On the way, we talk about a new little girl in her class and I learn how she always has the prettiest hair and the brightest bows. I make a mental note to watch a video or two on french braids.

When the bus pulls up to our stop, we have fifteen minutes to spare. We reach our neighbor, Sue’s house, first and that’s when it hits me. A burning heaviness in the bottom of my stomach. A sick type of dread settling over me.

I clear my throat, pasting on a fake smile when Sue opens the door. But it’s no use, she’s been around too long and knows me too well.

Her light brows furrow. “What’s wrong?”

Fiona looks from her to me and I widen my grin. “Oh, nothing. But can Fi bother you for an ice cream sandwich?”

“Of co–”

“Why aren’t you having one?” Fiona’s green eyes widen as she looks up at me.

“I’ll be right back, I just want to let mom know we are back, okay?”

Sue rests a hand on Fi’s shoulder and nods. “Come on inside, honey, your brother will be right back.”

Fiona hesitates, her gaze flashing from Sue to me and then back again. She’s keen for her age or maybe she felt the pit in her stomach too and isn’t sure what it is. Thankfully, Sue persuades her.

“I have a new kind. Cookies and Cream.”

Fi forms a small O with her lips and finally allows Sue to lead her inside. “Hurry up, Zeky.”

When the door closes, I take off running, jumping over the stray toys in the yard, the stump I have yet to dig out of the ground, and the few steps up to our door. As I reach for the handle, a vicious chill runs through my spine, and a heavy thunk falls into my gut.

I remember this feeling. I felt it a year ago when I was thirteen and found my mother comatose on the floor. She’d OD’d.

Shortly after, I started working to pick up the slack to allow her to take more days off.

My hands shake but I manage to open the door. Inside, darkness greets me, and only the sound of raspy draws of breaths fill the air.

“Mom?”

At first, there isn’t an answer and my stomach twists. I reach for the lamp and flip it on. On the worn coffee table is an empty bottle of wine, and dropped a few feet away are empty beer bottles. My mother is hunched over on the floor, legs crossed, her elbows digging into her knees with her hands covering her face.

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