by A. Jade
“Because she was b—”
I shoot Cole a death glare.
“Praying.” He coughs. “Bet she was praying real good.”
I force myself to breathe again. With not one, but three older brothers, odds are Bianca won’t start praying until she’s eighty-five.
I’ll make sure of it.
I flip the pancakes and check the clock. It’s barely even eight now, but I know Liam prefers the first two pancakes out of the stack. According to him, the rest are never as fluffy and they don’t taste as good.
“Can one of you go upstairs and get Liam? Breakfast will be ready soon.”
“Not it,” Cole and Bianca say at the same time.
Yeah, I should have seen that one coming from a mile away. “Fine—”
The rest of my sentence falls by the wayside when I hear the front door open.
You can cut the tension with a knife the moment my father steps into the kitchen.
After placing his briefcase on a nearby chair, he looks around and smiles. “Oh, wow. What’s all this?”
As if I don’t make breakfast for his children most mornings. “What does it look like?”
“Right, well. It smells really good.” Averting his gaze, he playfully messes Bianca’s hair. “Thank you, Jace.”
I don’t need him to thank me for doing what he should be doing.
I need him to either get out of my way or step the fuck up and be a dad.
“Whatever.” I toss the spatula on the counter next to the stove. “I’m gonna go wake Liam up.”
I overhear his piss-poor attempt at making conversation with Bianca and Cole as I make my way up the staircase. From the sounds of things, they’re over his bullshit too.
Good. Fuck knows I’ve been over it for years.
I pound on Liam’s door harder than necessary. “Time to wake up.” When he doesn’t respond, I try again. “I know you’re mad at me, but put it on hold for a few because I’m making your favorite breakfast.”
No response.
I’m not dumb enough to think pancakes will fix things between us, but the least he can do is respond.
“Come on, man.” I pound on his door harder. “For fuck’s sake, just answer me.”
Yell at me. Tell me I’m the worst brother in the world again. Something.
I get nothing.
I go down the hall and check the bathroom. Empty.
An ugly feeling crawls up in my gut and I bang on his door again. “Liam.”
This time when he doesn’t respond, I turn the knob.
The ugly feeling in my gut snakes up my spine when I take in his empty, made-up bed.
He must have woken up before me. Shit.
My brain’s trying to conjure up all the places he could have run off to when my eyes land on his closet door.
It takes me a second to process what I’m seeing.
Rope.
My eyes track the rope’s path from around the knob to where it’s wedged between the top of the frame and the door.
Why would Liam have rope…
It hits me like a brick to the head and my knees buckle.
No. No. No. No.
A guttural sound rips from my throat as I run across the room to the closet.
“Dad!” My voice is so shredded I hardly recognize it. “Dad, I need you. Something’s wrong with Liam!”
God, please tell me I’m wrong.
Tell me he didn’t do what I think he did.
Tell me my little brother is…
My worst fears are confirmed when I turn the knob, and whatever was left of my heart after my mother died…
Shatters into a thousand tiny little pieces.
M y mother was wrong.
Some things can’t be fixed.
A new day doesn’t always bring new chances.
Sometimes it just brings pain and more grief.
Liam had already been dead for hours by the time I found him, but I didn’t need the paramedics to tell me that.
His lips were blue. His skin was blue. The fingertips digging into the rope were blue.
Even the basket he kicked over was blue.
Everything was blue.
Ironic that a shade representing the best things in the world—the sky, the ocean, the color of Dylan’s eyes—also symbolized the worst.
My once favorite color…now made me sick to my stomach.
Almost as sick as the fact that my siblings and I were downstairs, talking and acting like everything was fine…while our brother was hanging from a rope.
All alone in a closet. Discarded like an ugly Christmas sweater.
The muscles in my chest draw tight as I stuff a pillow in my mouth and scream so loud my ears pop.
This is all my fault.
I killed him.
I loved him.
I killed him by loving her.
I scream again, louder this time, but just like Liam’s…my screams for help are silent.
The stone-cold truth of the last forty-eight hours seeps into my bones like an aggressive toxin, contaminating my reality.
He’s gone and he’s never coming back.
He didn’t give me a chance to fix it.
He didn’t give me a chance to apologize.
He didn’t give me a chance to prove I could be a good brother.
He didn’t give me a chance to tell him I’d do anything for him.
Including giving her up.
Balling my fists, I punch my skull.
I’m his big brother, I should have been the one he came to.
The one to help him find a different resolution than the one he chose.
Instead, I was the one who caused the pain that ended his life.
I punch my skull again. So hard I become lightheaded.
If I didn’t kick him out of my room.
If I had checked on him before I went to bed.
If I didn’t fall in love with the girl he gave his heart to.
Should’ve. Would’ve. Could’ve.
There are so many, I’m drowning in them.
But not a single damn one of them will bring Liam back.
Nothing will.
Death is a permanent scar that the people left behind are forced to bear.
And suicide a burden you shoulder forever.
The sound of my phone ringing hums in the background and I snatch it off my bed.
Dylan.
It’s always Dylan calling.
I should tell her what happened…tell her what I did, but I can’t.
Liam’s dead, because I was selfish. Talking to her would be the equivalent of spitting on the grave we’ll be burying him in tomorrow.
I miss her.
The metal casing digs into my fingertips as I clench my cell, combatting the urge to talk to her.
I can’t.
Maybe when things aren’t so fucked-up and I’m able to breathe without the overwhelming rush of pain twisting like a knife, we can be friends again.
I throw the phone against my wall and watch as the screen cracks.
If I never kissed her at the dance, Liam would still be alive.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
If Liam hadn’t walked in on us, I would have had a chance to explain everything to him. He wouldn’t have been blindsided and embarrassed.
But that didn’t happen…because someone stole the opportunity from me. Then he poured salt in the wound by laughing and pointing while Liam cried.
They all did.
Adrenaline lights me up like a rocket as I stand.
I look at the clock on my nightstand. School will be out in twenty-five minutes.
I can’t bring Liam back. I can’t fix the part I played in his death.
But there is something I can do.
Something that will dull the pain…and teach someone a lesson they’ll never forget.
“Where are you going?” Cole questions as I run down the stairs.
I take the bat out of the
closet in the foyer, the very same one Liam used the other night. “To make him pay.”
The need for vengeance thrums through my chest with every step I take toward the building.
I’m not stupid enough to walk inside and beat the shit out of him. There are too many witnesses.
But I happen to know his mom works all the time and he walks home instead of taking the bus.
I check my watch. The dismissal bell should be ringing any minute now.
As if on cue, I watch hundreds of kids file out of the school.
Most of them are laughing and smiling…no doubt glad the last day of classes are on the horizon.
While they’ll all be celebrating making it through another year tomorrow…I’ll be burying my little brother.
Because of that motherfucking asshole right there.
Pure wrath pulses through my veins as I watch him wave to a few people before heading down the sidewalk…without a care in the world.
Must be nice to have friends.
Other than me and Dylan, Liam didn’t have any.
Because of him.
History. The nickname Tommy gave Liam burns like acid in my throat.
All Liam wanted was to fit in, to feel like he belonged…it’s the reason he forgave Tommy and befriended him even though I warned him not to.
Unfortunately for Tommy, I’m not the forgiving kind.
My footsteps pick up speed as he reaches the end of the block.
A wooded area is coming up ahead. Which means there’s no place he can run…no place he can hide.
Tick tock, fucker. Your time is coming to an end.
I’m going to do things to him that not even his worst nightmares can conjure up.
Euphoria fills me as he pulls out his cell phone and brings it to his ear.
He’s distracted. Perfect.
Without warning, I strike the bat against his back. To my amusement, he simultaneously trips over a crevice in the cement and goes down like a stack of bricks.
I take the opportunity to drag him into the woods, belly down.
“What the fuck?” he yells, clawing at the dirt and branches. “Somebody help!”
Sorry, man. There’s no mercy for a piece of shit like you.
I stop when I find a good spot and get on top of him, pressing his face into the dirt.
“Help!”
He struggles against me, but I mush his face harder before letting him up for some air.
If I kill him too quickly, I’ll miss out on all the fun.
“Why are you doing this?” he chokes out. “Who are you?”
Leaning down, I whisper, “I’ll give you a hint.”
His body tenses. “Jace?”
He tries to get up and we grapple in the dirt for a minute. I give him just enough leeway to turn over but the second he does, I wrap my hand around his throat and bash my forehead against his nose.
Confusion mars his bloody face. “What the hell? Why…w-why are you doing this?”
I spit at him. “Look who’s stuttering now, bitch.”
Before he can speak, I place the barrel of the bat over his crotch and press down on it as I stand up, crushing his nuts.
I laugh when he screams in agony.
“Stop!”
“Okay,” I tell him. “But if I do, this bat is going somewhere else. Somewhere a little narrower.”
I can feel the fear wafting off him. “I’m sorry for what I did to Liam at the dance.” He sucks in a shaky breath. “I’ll apologize when I see him. Swear on my life.”
Another bolt of rage slices through me. “You can’t, fuckface.”
“Yes, I ca—”
“He’s dead.” I apply more pressure and watch in delight as he trembles from the pain. “He ended it…because of you.”
And me.
“Fuck!” I’m not sure if his outburst is from the agony he’s experiencing or shock from the news. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” I lean down on the bat and he yelps. “But don’t worry, this will all be over.” I flash him some teeth. “Eventually.”
He looks up at the sky and curses. “I wish I never listened to her.”
I have no idea what he’s rambling about. “Listened to who?”
“Dylan.”
Evidently, I do still have a heart because it speeds up at the mention of her name.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“It was her plan.” His voice becomes hoarse. “She tricked me. She tricked all of us, Jace.”
I’m not sure what he’s getting at, but Dylan is my best friend, so the need to defend her instinctively trumps whatever bullshit Tommy’s slinging.
I stomp on his leg. “Dylan didn’t trick anyone, motherfucker.”
“Yes, she did.” He lets out an ear-piercing scream when I twist the bat. “Fuck, man. I have no reason to lie to you. I have a little brother too, so I know how it works. If Liam killed himself because of something I did, I know I have no chance of getting out of these woods alive.” His breath leaves him in shallow pants. “But you might want to know the truth before you bash my skull in.”
The shithead has a point. I ease up on the pressure ever so slightly. “Start talking.”
His expression flickers with guilt. “I’ve had a crush on Dylan since seventh grade.”
I stop him right there. The last thing I need is to hear him go on and on about how much he wants her. “I’m not interested in your—”
“It’s important,” he insists. “It’s why things went down the way they did at the dance.”
I’m not following. “What did you liking Dylan have to do with you taking Liam to the closet to see us, or making fun of him in front of the entire school?”
“That was the plan.” He slaps the dirt with his palm “She wanted to get back at you for going to the dance with Britney.” He sucks in a sharp breath. “Let me back up. I approached her in the band room closet after I heard you asked Britney to the dance. I knew Dylan would be upset about it and I was hoping to use it to my advantage.”
I press down on the bat.
“Goddammit, Jace. I’m not done.”
“Then I suggest you talk quicker,” I grit through my teeth. “Because every word out of your mouth makes me want to rip off your nads and shove them down your throat.”
He blanches. “She told me how upset she was, and I suggested that she even the score by going to the dance with me.” He shrugs. “I’d hung out with her in the band room a few times after school by then, and our conversations…I thought I finally had a chance now that you were out of the way.”
My mind floats back to when Dylan mentioned she spoke with Tommy after class.
I ignore the weird feeling brewing in my gut. Shady people aren’t honest with their best friends.
Not to mention, she dared me to kiss her that day.
“Okay. Then what?”
“She turned me down. She said she was already going with someone and it would do a much better job of pissing you off. When I asked her who…she told me it was Liam.”
He’s lying. “Dylan wouldn’t do that.”
“I have no reason to lie to you, man. Not now.” He swallows hard. “Can I ask you something?”
Despite myself, I oblige. “What?”
“Did Dylan ever do or say anything that would make you believe she was into Liam?”
The look on my face must give away my answer because he says, “I’m not trying to be a dick, but why else would Dylan go to the dance with him?”
That thought churns painfully in my stomach. As much as I hate to admit it, there was a small part of me that briefly wondered if she went with Liam to dig at me.
But then I quickly realized how stupid that was, because no matter how angry she was with me, Dylan would never make Liam her pawn.
I figured Liam had finally decided to make his move and she was starting to come around to the idea of him.
Which made me even more of a terrible brother for k
issing her.
Regret and remorse punch through my chest.
I convinced myself I was going out there to confront her in order to protect Liam, but seeing her so close with Tommy made my blood boil.
I never spared my little brother a thought after that.
Not until Dylan mentioned she wanted to hang out at my house that night.
Tommy continues talking when I’m silent. “She told me she’d give me a chance if I could help her come up with an even better plan to get back at you.” He looks sheepish. “So I did.”
It feels like a rock is wedged in my throat. “What was the plan?”
I need to hear all the details. Every link in the messed-up chain they constructed that ended with my baby brother dying.
“Since she was already going with Liam, I told her I’d come through with a way to distract him halfway through the dance. This way we could sneak away. As luck would have it, Cole ditching his date provided a perfect one.”
The rock in my throat becomes a boulder, siphoning off my air supply with every word he says.
“My plan was for you to catch us making out in the hallway after you noticed she wasn’t with Liam, but she said that wasn’t good enough. She wanted me to provoke you and start a fight with you.”
I gesture for him to keep going because I can’t formulate words.
“Liam was supposed to catch us out in the hallway fighting over her. The goal was to cause a rift between you and your brother because she knew it would hurt you.”
“Liam said he saw us in the closet, not the hallway.”
I’m grasping at straws here, but it’s all I’ve got.
I don’t want to believe Dylan would be capable of doing something so spiteful and vindictive.
Tommy nods. “Dylan deviated from the plan when she told me to go back inside. I was so angry with her, I decided to spill the beans to Liam myself…”
His voice trails off, but I need to hear the rest.
I push down on the bat. “Keep talking.”
He sputters a curse. “Liam didn’t believe me, so I told him I could prove it.” His face twists in pain. “I took him to the hallway, but you guys weren’t there. I quickly figured out where you might have gone because it was where we used to hang out. However, what I didn’t expect to see was…it didn’t look fake.”
It didn’t feel fake, either.
White-hot pain races through my chest. I hate that Tommy’s version of events line up perfectly with what actually went down that night.
