Page 85 of Liam

“You wanted to know, right?”

She lowers her hands, her sorrowful stare meeting mine.

Yesterday, I would’ve given anything to protect her from this pain. This anguish. But today, I realized, “You’rethe reason I don’tdoanything. Why I can only be around my family, because they’re the only people in this whole fucking world I trust.Youmade me question everything about myself.Youmade me hate even talking to people I don’t know because I’m so fucking scared I’m going to say one fucking thing that’s going to have them judge me and react to that judgment the way you did. The way you encouraged others to. I can’t fucking breathe when I’m out there alone, and I know it’s pathetic?—”

“It’s not.”

“Don’t fucking say that shit!” I almost yell. “Don’t act like how I feel is fuckingnormal.It’s not. It’s miserable.Iam miserable! I let a few minutes of my life that happened fucking years ago ruin me the way it has, but I can’t fucking shake it. I can’t let go of it. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fixme!” I gasp a breath, the air thick and hot when it fills my lungs. “Please… just give me the keys and get the fuck out of my way.”

30

Liam

The space between consciousness and oblivion is dark, filled with irrational thoughts and void of the consequences that come with them.

It’s been a while since I’ve been here—emotionally and otherwise.

The bedroom door opens, and thethudof footsteps has me pressing my back harder against the cold wood. My eyes drift shut as Lachlan’s words fill my ears. “He’s not in here.” His voice is cracked, still in sleep mode. I’d heard his phone ring a few seconds ago, and I knew it wouldn’t be long until he’d be here—on the other side ofmydark space.

“There’s a bunch of shit on the floor,” he says. “I think it came from the closet.” His footsteps approach, and my eyes shut tighter when the closet doorknob rattles, then stops abruptly. “Don’topen it?” … “Okay, yeah.” His footsteps fade, but don’t go far. “Hey, Liam?” I hate the uncertainty in his tone. But more, Ihatethat my little brother is here to witness my undoing.“Lincoln’s on his way, but I’ll just be here if you, uh… if you need anything.”

I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, pray he can’t hear the heaviness of my broken breaths. There’s a ringing in my ears, high-pitched and unforgiving, but all other sounds give way to the loud thumping of my pulse. I feel it beat against my rib cage, each sign of life ricocheting off my flesh, and I wish I could peel away my outsides until?—

Until I’m nothing but bones.

There isn’t enough oxygen in my lungs or the tiny, dark space of the closet.

I hear the front door burst open, slam shut, and the tension in my jaw eases, just a tad. Lincoln rushes up the stairs, stops just inside our bedroom. “Thanks, Lachy,” he breathes out. His heart rate matches mine. Beat for beat. I can feel the waves penetrate the atmosphere.

“I didn’t really do anything,” our little brother murmurs, “but sure…”

The bedroom door clicks shut, and a moment later, I’m knocked forward the tiniest bit when Linc matches my position on the other side of the closet door.

I envision Lachlan back in his room now, at his desk, drawing this moment in time. Me, sitting against the closet door, covered in darkness, and Linc on the other side, shrouded in light.

Seems fitting.

“I hate this,” I whisper.

“I know,” he responds.

It’s the exact same words we shared when Linc found me that day, cowering behind a dumpster in the alley behind the pet store. It was the first time I’d done anything without him, and I don’t know who of us regrets it more.

I’d question how he knew where to find me, but the answer is obvious. At least to us.

I’d never felt that level of shame before—having to see the tears in his eyes as they traveled down my face, my entire body. I was beaten, bleeding in places he couldn’t see, but I’m sure he felt. My limbs were heavy—dead weight—just likeIwas. He wanted to call for help, but I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t want anyone to see me in that state, so we waited.

We waited until the shops closed for the evening and the streets were empty, and then he helped me to my feet, held me up so I could walk.

When we finally got home, I hid out in the tree line, battered and bruised, until I watched the lights go out inside. Then he came out and got me.

No one saw me enter that night.

But my dad was waiting for me in our bedroom.

“I had to,” Linc said, and I already knew as much.

“Who did this to you, son?” Dad asked.

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