My Torin

by K. Webster

  Buzzzzzzzz.

  Buzzzzzzzz.

  “You’re standing in the way, asshole,” some young guy mutters. Everyone around him laughs.

  “NO!” I bark out. My stupid goddamned go-to word. It makes me want to rip my hair out every time it slips from my lips. Sometimes it’s the only word I can get out.

  “What the fuck did you say?” he demands.

  “NO!”

  Buzzzzzzz.

  Buzzzzzzz.

  CaseyCaseyCaseyCasey.

  I crave to look at her—to calm the storm inside me—but all I can do is focus on my shoes. Cat hair. Lots and lots of cat hair all over my black Chucks. As I notice strands of gray or white or black, I wonder which cat each hair belongs to. What a game it would be to sit them all around me on my bed, plucking each follicle from my shoe and matching it up to the appropriate animal.

  Buzzzzzzz.

  “He’s a fucking retard!”

  I flinch at the derogatory word. It’s not the first time I’ve been called that and something tells me it won’t be the last. I want to ram my fist through his nose, but I can’t stop staring at the hairs on my shoes.

  “What the hell did you just call him?” The voice is shrill. Protective. Furious. Mine.

  “I called him a fucking retard, ugly bitch.”

  A screech pierces its way through my noise cancelling headphones and burrows its way into the center of my brain. For a moment, the buzzing stops as the white noise settles around me. I’m able to seek her out with my eyes and focus on her gorgeous face.

  Not ugly.

  Not ugly at all.

  She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.

  Hair so smooth, I crave to pet it like I do Misty and Rainy and Foggy.

  Lips so supple, I urge to run my tongue over and over and over the bottom one until I’ve blistered her from the repetitious touch.

  Blue eyes so bright, she’s sure to burn holes in every motherfucker in this arcade.

  I’m still staring at her as though I’m a deer just waiting to get slammed by a truck because I can’t fucking look away. She charges the teenager who is much bigger than she is without any fear in her eyes. Pulls back her arm and then cracks the guy right on his nose.

  Pop!

  Everything happens in slow motion. Tyler arrives and grabs her by the back of her shirt, pulling her away. The guy staggers away, his hands on his face as blood seeps from his nose. A few people laughing and saying, “You just got your ass kicked by a girl!”

  Tyler almost has Casey pulled out the door when the asshole snarls—albeit in a nasally way.

  “I’m going to kick the shit out of that whore.”

  “NO!” I roar, rage controlling my movements now.

  His eyes fly to mine and he must sense something in me because he gapes at me. My shoulders tremble with fury and my fisted hands come up in front of me. It’s a promise. I’ll lay him out flat if he even thinks about touching her. Rage numbs the buzzing and demands control.

  “Torin,” Tyler hollers. “Let’s go, brother.”

  I jolt into action and stalk past the idiot who just got his ass handed to him by a girl.

  My girl.

  Defending my honor.

  I’m never letting her go.

  Fuck.

  Not now.

  Not fucking now.

  “I’m going to head to bed,” Casey says from my bedroom doorway.

  After punching that prick at the arcade, her hand has swollen up and she’s been icing it. I’d never been so proud. There have been many fights I’ve gotten into defending my brother from people who don’t understand him. And seeing her go after that dick the way she did just solidifies how perfect she is for Torin.

  She’ll take care of him.

  She will.

  She was meant to. Always was.

  My heart aches and clenches as though it’s been stabbed multiple times and I’m bleeding out. Soon. I will bleed out soon and my existence will be stamped out.

  “Come sit for a minute,” I tell her, my voice hoarse.

  Casey is one but then she becomes two.

  Two angels walk my way.

  Two angels climb into my bed.

  Two angels cuddle beside me.

  “Thank you,” I mutter, marveling over how her five-fingered hand now has ten digits. The room spins and bile rises in my throat. I reluctantly close my eyes.

  “He had it coming,” she grumbles. “Torin is just different. They don’t understand him like we do.”

  And this is why I love her.

  She’s one of us.

  She fits in.

  Family.

  The family she was born to was a joke. She didn’t belong with them. She always belonged with us. Always.

  Her voice is melodic as she speaks. She’s still energetic over our outing to the arcade. I can’t focus on what she’s saying, just how she’s saying it. I latch on to the cadence of her sweetly spoken words.

  Today I felt great, but now I feel like shit.

  Glenn warned me. He warned me about everything. As my doctor and a family friend, he’s tried to make this entire ordeal easier on me. From prescribing the medicines that work best to giving me fatherly advice.

  I followed it all.

  Stopped working so hard and enjoyed life while I still had it.

  Met with the attorney and sorted out our family’s business and personal affairs.

  Made sure those whom I love are going to be taken care of.

  Specifically took steps to make sure Casey was adequately protected.

  Glenn and I had a heated discussion at the beginning of my diagnosis. We talked treatment plans and risky operations. In the end, I told him I refused to spend my last days any worse off than I already am. He vowed to make me comfortable until the end.

  A searing migraine starts throbbing through my skull. I want to ignore it and focus on Casey. Instead, all I can do is notice how much she fidgets and moves the bed.

  Fuck, I’m going to throw up.

  I jerk out from beneath her and roll out of the bed. The room spins but not before I catch my brother’s stare from a slat in the wall. Staring. Always staring.

  Maddening pain blackens my vision.

  A jolt surges through me and I quiver as though I’ve been struck by lightning.

  Down. Down. Down.

  I’m falling. Crashing.

  Screaming.

  Protect her. Protect her. You must protect her.

  Sweet Casey screams.

  My Torin roars.

  My family.

  Shhhh.

  Fuck, they’re loud.

  The darkness is a welcome reprieve and I desperately clutch onto it. Throbbing pain doesn’t seem so intense there.

  Black. Black. Black.

  I reach for it.

  Protect her. Protect her. You must protect her.

  Wrap up in it like a blanket.

  Sleep.

  “Tyler!”

  Sweet voice.

  One voice, but if I could look at her, she’d be two angels.

  Protect her. Protect her. You must protect her.

  She’s perfect.

  She’s perfect.

  She’s perf—

  I’m numb.

  I’ve been numb for a week.

  Going through the motions, life passing me by in a blur.

  Empty and hollow.

  I’m in shock.

  I keep waiting for it to sink in. For the realization to grab me by the throat and choke me until I’m lifeless. A prickle of tears stings my eyes, the first indication that I’m beginning to thaw from my mental freeze.

  I won’t survive this.

  “Miss Casey,” Ethel says, standing in the doorway of Tyler’s office.

  I swivel in his leather chair to regard her and Ronnie standing in the doorway. Both wear somber expressions.

  “We’re leaving.” Ethel’s lips are pressed in a firm line. Ronnie won’t meet my gaze.

 
“Where are you going?” I ask, confusion in my tone.

  “We’re going home,” she replies.

  “When are you coming back?” My lip trembles as dread trickles through me.

  Ethel lets out a sigh. “Hon, we’re never coming back.”

  The room blurs as reality sets in. “Why not?”

  “You know why.”

  “No,” I choke out. “I don’t know why. We’re still here. We still need your help running this giant house.” I scramble for the checkbook that I’m now signer on. An account that’s been put into mine and Torin’s name. More money than I could ever spend. “I can pay you.”

  Ronnie frowns. “We’ve done our time. We’re old. It wasn’t so bad when Tyler was around but…” he trails off.

  “It’s not you,” Ethel offers.

  I gape at her in horror. “You’re leaving because you can’t deal with Torin?”

  Guilt flashes in her eyes and she looks away. “Retiring.”

  Lies. She’s lying.

  They mutter their apologies as they leave while I stare down at the checkbook dumbfounded. Tyler’s gone and it’s just me. Me and Torin. The two of us in this giant, windowless house. With shaking hands, I pull up my email and start one to Torin. He’s gone completely silent. Hidden away and allowed me to handle all the funeral arrangements on my own. Torin managed to make it to the funeral. He didn’t shed a tear—simply stared at the casket, his jaw clenching. The moment we came home from the funeral, he disappeared.

  I’m alone.

  I have no one.

  It’s times like these I wish I had a mother. Someone to whisper sweet words of encouragement. Someone to stroke my hair and tell me everything will be okay.

  But I don’t have a mother.

  The loneliness welling up inside of me is like a giant wave rising and rising. It’s going to crash over me again. It will drown me. My entire life, I’ve spent it alone. For a brief moment in time, I was filled and happy.

  I can’t do this again.

  Tears that had yet to fall have begun filling and spilling. A leaky faucet with no way to turn it off. The walls creak nearby. I know he’s here. I know he won’t talk to me.

  Alone.

  Cocaine Casey.

  Abandoned.

  The chill surrounding me is worse than the snow ever could be. It wraps me up in an icy embrace and settles into my bones.

  I’ll go where it’s warm.

  I will find happiness on a beach somewhere and block out my time here.

  Maybe someone will like me. Maybe we’ll fall in love. Maybe I’ll live happily ever after.

  But not here.

  Not alone.

  I can’t do this.

  Torin,

  I’m sorry, but I can’t be alone again. You’ve shut me out. Honestly, I don’t know if you ever let me in. I’ve lived here for months and I’ve yet to see your room or know much about you. No matter how hard I have tried, I can’t get you to laugh or hug me. To acknowledge that you need me here as much as I need to be here.

  You’ll be fine.

  There isn’t much I can do.

  Goodbye, Torin.

  Casey

  I send the email and hear the buzz from beyond the wall. Hope niggles at me as I hastily swipe my tears away.

  Beg me to stay.

  Come out of your hiding place and hug me. Promise me everything will be okay, just like Tyler used to. Take care of me, Torin.

  Creak.

  My heart hammers in my chest.

  Then, heavy footsteps thud away.

  I have my answer.

  My knees buckle, but I refuse to collapse and wallow in my self-pity. Not yet. First, I’m gathering my things and getting the hell out of here. I rush from the office but can’t go by Tyler’s bedroom without stopping in. His scent lingers in the air. Pain shreds me from the inside out—begs me not to go inside. Like the masochist I am, I step into the room. My eyes dart to the blood stain on the floor near the bathroom.

  A seizure.

  A fall.

  Tyler hit his head hard enough that, not only did he get a gash on his head, but he also jostled one of the tumors that was intricately attached to his blood vessels. The internal bleeding wasn’t stoppable and he died before they ever got him to the hospital.

  Someone wails.

  Gut-wrenching.

  Pleading.

  Devastated.

  Me.

  The world blurs again. I stumble over to his chair and pluck his hoodie from it. The one he’d worn the day he took me to the arcade. I hug it to me as I make my way back to my bedroom.

  This was my home.

  Tyler made sure I felt that way.

  And now?

  He’s gone and I’m so lost.

  Pushing inside my room, I stare at the giant dresser moved in front of the panel in the wall. I know earlier it wasn’t there. I’m perplexed but ignore it as I start shoving my things into my backpack. A backpack I didn’t have to carry with me or rely on for months. A backpack that carried my entire life in it.

  Now, it seems so trivial.

  My life was Tyler and Torin.

  Without Tyler, my life is once again sketchy and unreliable. The need to have my backpack on the ready is overwhelming. I need to bail at a moment’s notice. When I realize all the things Tyler bought me won’t fit into a single bag, I sob harder. I’ll have to make trips. I want to keep every single thing he ever bought for me. I’ll be damned if I leave even a sock behind.

  Click.

  The sounds of my cries are loud, but I hear it.

  Turning, I discover the bedroom door is closed. I jerk my backpack over my shoulder and start toward the door. Something shiny catches my eye on the floor.

  Pennies.

  Lots of pennies.

  They spell a single word.

  Torin’s favorite word.

  No.

  I stare in disbelief at the pennies on the floor, my eyes burning from crying. With a scream, I kick them with my foot, sending them hurtling into the baseboards. I charge for the door and twist the knob.

  It’s locked.

  From the outside.

  Why the fuck is the door locked from the outside?

  Torin.

  His pennies said what he couldn’t.

  No.

  Oh my God.

  “Let me out of here!” I scream, my palms pounding on the door.

  No response. No sounds. Nothing.

  Alone.

  I kick the door and hit it to no avail.

  The wall.

  I’ve never had the urge to creep through the walls like Torin does, but I sure as hell will to get out of this room. It’s then I realize, I can’t. That motherfucker dragged the dresser that weighs a lot more than me in front of the opening.

  Oh my God.

  I’m so panicked, but I’m trying to calm myself. I grab my phone from my pocket and read his response.

  No.

  One word.

  That’s all I get.

  That’s all I’ll ever get.

  No.

  “Torin!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I know he’s close. I can sense him. “Let me out of here before I call the police!”

  He doesn’t respond.

  Enraged, I hover my fingers over the screen, itching to dial the number. But even though I’m angry and upset, I don’t call the police. I imagine Tyler watching this scene right now. He’d be trying desperately to fix it. To protect Torin.

  They can’t arrest Torin.

  He’d lose his mind.

  Instead of calling them, I reply to his email in all caps.

  YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!

  His reply is instant.

  I can’t lose you too.

  Succumbing to my hysteria, I drop my bag and then set my phone down on the end table before crawling into bed. I pull the covers up over my head and pray this is all a bad fucking nightmare.

  When I’m calm, I’ll reason with him.

 
I’ll talk my way right out the front door and then I’ll be gone.

  I will never look back.

  “Casey-Casey.”

  The voice wakes me from a dead sleep. My body feels achy and tired. I’m exhausted. It takes a moment for my mind to catch up.

  Tyler is gone.

  The staff quit.

  Torin locked me in my room.

  Someone has added logs to my fireplace because the room is warm and bright. Once I become fully aware, I lock eyes with that someone.

  Torin.

  He hovers over me, his knees depressing into the bed on either side of me and his palms pressing into the mattress beside my head. The shadows have stolen his features from me. His scent invades my nostrils and sings to me. I want him to yank me into his arms and apologize. To press kisses all over my face as he promises everything is going to be okay—that we can still be a family.

  Instead, he stares.

  Wordlessly.

  “You locked me in here,” I accuse, hurt making my voice crack.

  “Casey-Casey.”

  He leans forward and runs his nose along the side of mine before burying it against my hair, inhaling. I turn my head to the side and see that the doorway is standing open.

  I can leave.

  With a growl, I push against his chest so I can slip out from beneath him and escape. But Torin is solid muscle. Unmovable. I start to wiggle away, but his strong hands find mine and he pins them to the bed. I scream and squirm, but then he drops his entire weight down on top of me. Tears stream from my eyes as I curse him to hell and back. His grip is tight around my wrists—so tight I know I’ll bruise. My sad sob pierces the air.

  “Casey-Casey.”

  “Let me go,” I plead through my tears. “I just want to leave.”

  “Mine.”

  He laps at my cheeks, licking away the salty wetness. All I can do is cry harder, providing him with more to taste. I’m in a hopeless situation. Caught in the trap of a man who I know nothing about.

  His body is heavy against mine as he relaxes. I can’t fight him off. All I can do is be thankful he’s warm and touching me. Despite how angry I am with him, I don’t feel so alone right now. He has to be hurting deep down inside, just like me, over the loss of Tyler. This may not be a hug or even normal, but I cling to the moment desperately.