Page 9 of Chaotic Curse
I’m answered only by the relentless hum of the machines hooked onto my little brother.
My fault.
My fault.
My fault.
I hear the words from the humming of the machines.
I should have answered the phone.The door.
I should have been there.
And now…
Now Eagle might die.
“Don’t you dare,” I say to him.“Don’t you dare fucking die.”
I close my eyes to pray, to beg, to do anything, but instead, a memory floods my mind.
The last time Eagle relapsed.
The last time I took him to rehab.
He fought me tooth and nail.Even tried to punch me.
* * *
A year earlier…
“Fuck off, Hawk,” he says.“You’re not my goddamned keeper.”
Lines of coke still sit on Eagle’s coffee table.
I swipe them off, and they scatter in powdery clouds.“You’re right.I’m not just your keeper.I’m your big brother too.”
“Bullshit.”His eyes are bloodshot.His movements jittery.“Look at you, living your high and mighty life, thinking you can dictate mine.”
“You’re self-destructing, Eagle!”I grab him by the shoulders.“You think you’re invincible.You think this shit can’t touch you.But it can.Itis.”
He glares at me, his usually bright eyes dulled by the haze of drugs.“You’re one to talk.Always the shining example, right, Hawk?”
“It’s not about being an example.It’s about saving your life.”
He wrestles out of my grasp, turning away from me.“And what if I don’t want to be saved?”
The question hits me like a punch to the gut.I swallow hard, my resolve wavering.
“Then you’re a fool.”I match his glare with one of my own.
He struts forward, oddly balanced and confident despite his high.“Fuck off.”He raises his fist, launches it at me.
I easily deflect.
I grab his wrist, twist, and flip him onto the couch.He groans, tries to get up, but I press him down.
“This is for your own good, Eagle.You’re going to rehab whether you like it or not.”
