Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
All four of us lined up and saying our final goodbyes will never be the same after losing our youngest brother.
But only one of us knows the truth.
Only one of us is guilty.
The worst part is when I leave. I’m the last of us to finally part from Tyler’s grave, but when I leave, my gaze stays rooted to where her car was. Where Addison had parked. My memories aren’t of my father crying helplessly against the brick wall of the church, refusing to go in when he couldn’t hide his pain. The images that flash before my eyes as my shoes crunch against the icy snow aren’t of all his friends and teachers and family who have come from states away to tell us how sorry they are and how much Tyler will be missed.
All I can think about is Addison. How she stood so quietly on the fringes of the crowd, her fingers intertwined, her eyes glossy. How even as the wind ripped her scarf from her shoulders, carrying it into the distance and leaving her shoulders bare, she didn’t move. She didn’t even shudder. She was already numb.
The picture of her standing there motionless, staring at the casket is what I think about as I leave my brother.
I didn’t know then how dangerous that was. Or maybe I did and I didn’t want to believe it. But Addison would haunt me long after that night, as do so many other things.
She’s only a girl. One small, weak girl.
Her red cheeks and nose and windblown hair made her look that much more tempting. Everything about her is ruined. At least she appeared to be that night. But I knew she had more left in her. More life and spirit. More emotion to give.
I may be cruel and unforgiving, but I’m right. I’m always right.
CHAPTER 9
Addison
The night Tyler died, I saw it all happen.
I was there and I heard the tires squeal.
At the memory, I can practically feel the cold raindrops from that night pelting my skin. I turn on the faucet to the hottest it can go and wait until steam fills the room. I step into the shower, ignoring how the sounds of water falling are so similar to the rain that night as I stood outside the corner store. He called my name. My eyes close and my throat feels tight as I hear Tyler’s voice.
The last thing he said was my name as he stepped into the street.
It takes a lot to leave someone because you fell in love with somebody else. Somebody who would never love you back.
It takes even more of your heart to witness the death of someone who truly deserved to live. More than I’ll ever deserve it.
And to know that they died because they were looking for you …
God and fate are not kind or just. They take without reason. And the world is at a loss for Tyler being taken from us.
I thought I was doing the right thing by leaving Tyler. I didn’t know he’d come looking for me. If I could take it back, I would.
The water hits my face and I pretend like the tears aren’t there. It’s easier to cry in the shower.
I was fine until I saw Daniel again. It took me years to feel just okay. That’s the part I can’t get over. Maybe this is what a relapse is? One moment and I’ve lost all the strength I’ve gained over the years. All of the acceptance that I can’t change what happened and that it’ll be okay. It’s all gone in an instant.
I lean my back against the cold tile wall and sink to the floor. The smooth granite feels hard against my back as I sit there, letting the water crash down on me as I remember that night over and over. Just a few moments in particular. The moment Tyler saw me, then the moment he spoke my name and moved toward me.
The moment I screamed at the sight of him stepping into the road.
The car was right there. There was no time.
It didn’t matter how I threw myself forward, racing toward him even as the car struck him.
I swear I acted as fast as I could. But it wasn’t good enough.
My head rests on my knees as my shoulders shake.
Life wasn’t supposed to be so cruel. Not to him.
“Deep breaths,” I tell myself. “One at a time,” I say, brushing at my eyes even though the water is still splashing down.
Standing up makes me feel weak. The water’s colder, but the air is still hot.
Just breathe.
As I open up the shower door to inhale some cool air, I hear something. My heart stops and my body freezes. The water’s still on but my eyes stare at the bathroom door.
The mirrors are fogged even though I left the door open slightly. A second passes and then another.