Suddenly, I awoke to my phone ringing “Dammit Blake, what the hell do you want?” I heard my younger brother’s gruff voice on the other line it sounded like he had been crying. But I ignored that and listened to him berate me. “You were supposed to meet the Murphys last night to solidify the deal, you selfish bastard. Let me guess you’re laying next to some girl you probably banged.”
I blinked and looked down at the girl that was laying beside me on the couch. “Yeah, yeah whatever I got a little distracted.” I heard him sigh.
“Whatever, you’re just a low life and that's all you’ll be. I nearly lost my job because they thought that we weren’t dependable. But guess what I was there to cover your ass again! That's all I fucking do.” I could tell by the sounds in the background that he was tapping his fingers on his desk in that nervous way he does.
He only did it when he had bad news. I softened my voice “What’s wrong?” I asked him. My brother had been diagnosed with moderate depression at a young age and then not much later severe anxiety.
He never cried and then called me. “I found out something but I don’t know how to tell you.” I was utterly confused. “Tell me what?” I tried to pretend like I didn’t know what was going on. “You remember how dad used to call mom names and accuse her of cheating.Well, the cheating was right. I'm half-blood, I'm not dad's child, that's why he was always treating me differently than you.”
I gasped at his accusation. “Blake, how in the hell did you figure that out?” I played it off with a laugh, I had always known. When I got hurt I would bleed a dark black or burgundy. When he got hurt or cut (and usually it was on purpose) it was a bright crimson. Mother had explained to me that it was because he was different and not to tell my dad.
I was always a bit quiet so she knew that I wouldn’t speak about it. I started to sit up on the couch careful not to wake the girl up, I rubbed my eyes. I heard the dial tone and got kind of scared. He took this job very seriously and when he fucked up well he would make himself bleed or attempt to feel pain which isn’t very hard for him. His arms and legs were filled with scars, I hated seeing him like that.
Verbal abuse or not he was still my brother and the last time he did something like this, he lost a lot of blood and nearly succeeded in killing himself. I slid out from under Paris, though I really didn’t want to leave her. I left her a note:
‘Sorry, family emergency, call me please.’
I ran out to my car dropping her house keys that I had held onto while we ate dinner. When I got to the beautiful Victorian-era-style house. I sprinted up the front yard, not even bothering to turn the car off. I all but kicked the front door in and found Blake in his room sitting in his desk chair. He was wearing that god-awful black sweater and black sweatpants.
I kneeled down in front of him “Blake…?” I asked, as his pale green eyes opened, slightly. They were slightly glazed over. “Dammit Blake!” I slapped him and then raised his sleeve. “You dumbass, do you not remember what happened the last time?”
“This isn’t your fault. Look Blake I fucking love you and if I lose you I will have no one else. NO ONE” I picked him up and set him on his bed. “I’ll be back.” I said and started to walk off. I heard him whisper something. “Would he have killed her if I wasn’t born?” I returned and started to put gauze on his wrist and then wrapped them in ace bandages. “Probably. But you know after dad died the money wasn’t enough to feed her addiction.” I saw more tears starting to form and fall. “Her addiction?” He questioned yanking his arm away slightly as I pressed down on it.
“Pills and heroin... She forgot to pay someone and it came back around and bit her. When she was walking one day she was shot.” I sat next to him and rubbed his head like I used to do when we were younger and he was scared because mom and dad were in one of their screaming matches. “I’m a mess…” He laughed though it sounded more like a choke.
He started to remove his glasses and wipe his eyes. He stood and headed for his bedroom door. “I know someone who will buy booze for us.” He opened the door and took out his phone. “Ciara, I need something from you.” He nodded for me to follow him. “We’re good to meet on the corner of Elm and Main street.”
He sat in the passenger seat, “Invite that girl. The one you were with last night. I’d like to meet her.” Oh lord, he must’ve lost more blood than I thought I should get him a cookie to bring up his blood sugar because he must’ve been delusional, he never wants to meet anyone I associate with. “Okay,” I said as I parked in the liquor store parking lot on Elm.
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