Page 16 of Borrowed
The door clicked shut behind me.
Tabby sat cross-legged on the floor of our bedroom, building something with old puzzle pieces and dead bugs she found in the corners of the room.She didn’t look up.
“Mother said I couldn’t come in,” she mumbled, voice flat.
“She’s asleep now,” I said.“You can.I’m sorry you were alone, sister.I’m here now.”
Tabby’s mind was so different from anyone I knew.She saw things in ways I didn’t understand, but it just meant I had to protect her from what she couldn’t see.
Maybe if I did that, it would save us both.
She flinched when I stepped closer.Just a twitch.Like muscle memory from Father’s hand.Like she expected me to hurt her too someday.
I crouched down beside her, ignoring the way my ribs protested.Mother had pressed a knee into my side when I said no…when I tried to leave the room to keep Tabby safe.That was when her hands went from coaxing to commanding.Mother didn’t like being told no.
But none of that mattered.
Not when I saw Tabby’s shoulders shaking.
“You hungry?”I said as softly as possible, discreetly replacing the bugs with paper clips from my school books.
She shrugged.She still wouldn’t look at me.Her glassy eyes were fixated on the corner, where a dent from anger had been made.
I reached for her hand, brushing my thumb across her knuckles.She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t curl her fingers into mine either.
“You can come sleep in my bed tonight,” I said.“She won’t bother you.Promise.You are always safe with me, Sister.”
Her eyes finally lifted to mine, dark and sad.For a second, I thought she might cry.
But she didn’t.Tabby was strong.She had always been strong.
“I heard you laughing,” she whispered.
My stomach sank, and bile rose in my throat.
“No…” I said, swallowing down the vile taste.“That’s not what it was.”
“She loves you more,” she muttered.“She never makes you leave the room.”
My throat closed, and I reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“No, Tabby.That’s not love.It’s pain.”
“She touches you like it is.”
That cut deeper than the knee to my ribs.
I pulled her into my arms, gently, slowly.She stiffened at first, then melted into my chest like she always did when we were little.I wrapped both arms around her, holding her close, shielding her.
“She doesn’t love me,” I said.“She uses me.Love isn’t hurting.It only hurts when the love goes away.”
“Someday, she’ll love me like she loves you, Toby.”
Her cheek pressed against the hollow of my throat, and I held her tighter.
“God, I hope not.”I shivered, imagining her beautiful black hair wound around Mother’s hands.“I will love you, Tabby.I will love you more than anyone.You don’t need them.”
“Is it because I’m broken?Do they love you because you’re whole?”
