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Again.
Footsteps creak down the hall, and a soft tap on my door tells me it's time. The door opens slowly, and Harper hesitates at the entrance, her tear-filled eyes peeking inside. "It's time, baby," she mutters, her usually upbeat voice laced with pain.
Another tear escapes my eyes, surprising even me. I didn't think I had any tears left to shed. "I just want to wake up," I tell Harper, my bottom lip quivering.
Or maybe I want to fall asleep and never wake up at all.
She pushes her way into my room, her arms enveloping me in a hug, but I can't find comfort in it. I'm not sure I'll ever feel comfort again. "I know. I know. Me too.” Harper whispers.
Death shocks you, but sudden death suffocates you. It buries you alive, leaving you clawing at the dirt, trying to find a way out. A way to reach your next inhale. You keep clawing and digging, but more dirt falls onto you with each new swipe. It’s sudden and debilitating.
As we make our way down the hallway, my heart stops once more. Again, it's the unbearable truth. Henry, my other brother, stands there like a specter, frozen, lost, and broken, just like me. He can't move on without his other half. He's no longer a twin anymore.
"It's time," Harper's voice breaks the silence. Her hand interlaces with mine as she guides me toward Henry.
Right as Harper’s fingers touch Henry, he snaps. Jerking back, his face flushes crimson, tears streaming down the splash of freckles on his cheeks. His still-blinking eyes burn with fury. Eyes that are still alive, unlike our brother’s.
"You," he growls, his gaze burning with anger as he points a trembling finger directly at me. It's like a dagger stabbing my heart. Repeatedly. "It's your fault."
"Henry!" Harper shouts, her hand gripping mine tighter.
Henry steps forward, jabbing that finger again—it feels like a physical blow. "You had to call him. You had to put him on the road. You could have come to me. I was at the party, but you had to call him. It's your fault!"
A piercing cry escapes my lips. Henry is right. It is my fault. I deserve his hate. It's my fault his twin is gone. My fault our house will never be a home again.
The sound of a slap echoes through the hallway. "Take it back!" Harper screams, her tears flowing freely now.
There is a visible red handprint on his right cheek now. “Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” Henry shouts. Our small hallway seems to shrink even smaller. "I wish it were you," he seethes, his eyes burning as they lock with mine, fists balled, his skin, which is usually smooth, now red.
Red is better than lifeless. Take his hate, Poppy.
Then he turns his back on us and rushes down the hall. His steps echo, making the hallway feel large again, and this time, I'm the one who feels shrunken. I feel like a child wanting to scream for its mother, wanting to reach out my hand and have Henry grasp it. His grip would quell the trembling fear ricocheting out through the tips of my fingers.
He won’t.
I know I just lost him too. I’m an only child…no, an orphan; I forgot my parents were dead too.
I wish it were me, too,Henry.
Harper yells, chasing after Henry.
I want to run after him, but when I take a step, my knees give way, and my heart aches so profoundly that I just want it to stop.
I did call Peter that night. I called him to come save me. If I had run to Henry and told him what happened to me at the party, he would have killed for me, to avenge me, to protect me. I would have lost Henry; he’d be in jail right now if I chose that path to take.
It seems that fate was determined to take one of my brothers from me that night; little did I know that it was I who decided which.
Arms crash into me, pulling my trembling body closer. "Shh, it's going to be alright," Harper whispers in my ear, her embrace offering a feeble attempt at solace. Her arms rub my back gently. Her long blonde hair is all I can see. "He didn't mean it."
But he did.
Every word he spat out was laced with raw, honest hatred, and it cut deeper than any physical blow.
"It's gonna be alright," Harper continues to repeat like a broken record, her voice quivering with the weight of the situation.
No, it's not, Harper. Nothing will be alright again.
Chapter 3
