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“There, there,” said my aunt, who hugged my mom. She winked at me, and I felt a little bit better. I wasn’t the one who destroyed my family.
I really couldn’t believe what was happening. The little boy standing at the door caught my attention. His big brown eyes looked frightened as he watched his mother collapse into tears.
My little brother was scared. And I had to take him out of here.
Everyone else forgotten, I headed towards him and knelt so I was his height.
“Do you want to play outside?”
“Okay,” he said uncertainly.
When I had finally gottenhim out of the house, I tried to avoid the areas where there was fresh dirt dug up in the backyard.
“What’s your name?” I asked as he kicked a red ball around half-heartedly.
“Eddie,” he said.
“Hi, Eddie,” I said, noticing the similarities of our facial structures right away and our similar hair color. I felt sad that he still had to live with my mother. She didn’t do crap to save me from Alan. But he looked like he was well-taken care of and chubby.
His white sneakers also showed that he could have been spoiled because no one had bought me anything new in my entire life growing up here.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“I’m five,” he said, looking at me in surprise when I kicked the ball back to him. He probably didn’t have many people partaking in games with him.
“My name is Bree,” I said.
“Like the picture?” he asked.
“What?”
“Follow me,” he said, running back into the house. He was heading to my old room, and I didn’t want him to go there after our dad was literally murdered there an hour ago. My mother had quieted down as my aunt consoled her. Zaff and his pack were standing huddled in the kitchen as they discussed something amongst themselves.
Zaff looked over at me curiously as I chased Eddie up the stairs to stop him from going into the room.
But there wasn’t a drop of blood anywhere, and the only different thing was that the rug was gone. If I saw even one drop of blood on the wall, I would throw up, so I didn’t inspect too hard.
“What are you doing?” I asked out of breath. He darted into the closet and pushed the door open, pointing to a scratch on the back of the door.
“It says your name,” he said proudly.
I had completely forgotten about that. As a kid, I’d lock myself in the closet and scribble on the back of the closet door when I didn’t want to hear my parents arguing.
“You know how to read?”
“Duh,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“I used to live here,” I said, hesitant to tell him the truth about who I was and if Mom would get angry. But she was such a disappointment for most of my life, and I didn’t care anymore. “I’m your older sister.”
“Sister?”
“Yes,” I said, watching his face closely.
In seconds, his face broke into a wide smile, and his eyes lit up as he rushed towards me to give me a huge hug. I hugged him back, and tears sprung to my eyes in an instant.
“I always wanted a brother or a sister,” he said, voice muffled against my shirt.
“Me too,” I said, unable to let go of my baby brother. “I will always love you no matter what. If you ever need anything, I’ll be there for you.”
