Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
My body instantly went cold and I felt the tell-tale numbness start to settle over me. I put my hands on the edge of the stove and enjoyed the warmth that seeped into my fingers from the metal. The heat from the burner flame helped too, but it wasn’t enough.
I couldn’t do this…not here.
Not now.
Ricky was gone.
I tried to pull up the day the cops had shown up at our door to tell my father that Ricky’s body had been found in a culvert by an underpass on the city’s south side, but I couldn’t hang on to the memory. As sick as it sounded, it had ended up being one of the best days of my life. I’d been standing behind my father when he’d been told his oldest kid was dead. I’d let out this hysterical laugh which had earned me a harsh look from my father that I’d known would be accompanied by a punch or slap at some point after the cops left, but I hadn’t cared because all I’d been able to think that was I was finally free. I’d gone to my room and cried.
Big, wet, happy tears.
It had taken me hours to stop and even after my father had kicked my ass for disrespecting Ricky’s memory, I’d continued to celebrate his death. A twisted part of me had wanted to go find the cops and ask them if I could see Ricky’s body, since I knew my father wouldn’t let me go with him to identify my brother at the coroner’s office. I’d slept like a rock that night, regardless of all the guilt I still carried around with me.
But despite Ricky’s death, his memory lived on in my mind. And it didn’t take much to send me back to the days where I’d lie in my bed in the room I’d shared with Ricky when we were just kids and stifle a whimper every time I heard the springs in his mattress creaking. Most times he’d just been turning over in his sleep, but not always.
My vision began to dim as the chill in my body started to spiral out to my limbs. I needed to excuse myself so I could at least escape to the bathroom, but I knew it was already too late. I’d waited too long.
As my knees buckled and hit the floor, my last coherent thought was, even from the grave, Ricky was still winning.
Chapter 4
Phoenix
I heard rather than saw Levi hit the floor because as he went down, his hand hit the handle of a pot on the stove, knocking it to the ground. Fortunately, the pot was empty so he wasn’t burned. I dropped the plate I was still washing and rushed to his side. He hadn’t passed out, but he was kneeling on the cold tile, his head lowered and his hands in his lap.
“Levi?” I said in a rush as I put my arm around his back to keep him from collapsing in a heap. When he didn’t respond to me, I forced his chin to the side so I could see his face. His eyes were open, but the lids lowered halfway. His expression was completely empty.
“Levi, talk to me,” I murmured as I gave him a little shake. His skin felt cold and clammy.
I was in the process of pulling out my phone when I heard a man’s voice say, “What’s going on here?”
A short, gray-haired man in black pants and a short-sleeved black shirt was standing at the entrance to the kitchen. The white collar gave away his identity.
“Levi?” the priest said quickly as he rushed to us and dropped down next to Levi. “What happened?” he asked, his accusatory eyes snapping up to meet mine.
“I don’t know. We were just talking and then he collapsed. I was about to call 911.”
“No,” the man said, shaking his head. “Can you lift him?”
I nodded and gathered Levi into my arms. He weighed next to nothing so it was easy to stand even without the priest putting his hand at my elbow, apparently to try to steady me. If the situation hadn’t been so disturbing, I would have laughed at the slight man’s attempt to assist someone of my size and build.
“Bring him this way…we need to get him warm.”
Warm? Had this happened before?
I followed the priest to the back of the small space. He led me to a little room that wasn’t any bigger than a walk-in closet. There was a tiny cot in the room with a single blanket and pillow on it. A small lamp was on the little table next to the bed, along with a Bible. The only decoration in the room was a plain wooden cross hanging just above the head of the bed.
The priest pulled back the blanket. “Put him here and stay with him.”