by Quell T Fox
Lenny’s phone rings and he pulls his hand away to get to it. He clears his throat and sniffles before answering the call. He says hello like he didn’t just word vomit emotions he’s been holding inside for years. Like everything is perfectly fine with the world and our lives even though it isn’t. Because I’ve just learned one thing about my brother, one thing I didn’t know. No matter how happy he is on the outside, there is so much ickiness inside of him.
Like me.
I hold onto the hate in my life and the fears of letting go and being let down. But on the outside, I act like I’m fine because I want to be. Because I have to be. But inside there is so much… darkness.
“Yeah, she woke up for a few minutes. No. I don’t know, Maddox. Tell Callan to shut up, okay?” Lenny’s tone deepens slightly, agitation sneaking out. “We have no idea if this has to do with that. Fine. Whatever. We’ll tell her when she wakes up.”
I let the exhaustion take over then, I need a break before my emotions burst out of my chest and cause another injury I don’t need to deal with.
When I wake up next, I feel much better. My body still aches, my head is throbbing, and my throat is dryer than Nevada weather, but it’s still better than how I felt the last time I was up.
I open my eyes easily. The shades are still drawn and the door is closed. I can’t tell what time it is, but the lights are dimmed and the outside looks dark. Lenny is asleep in the chair on the side of me. Not one of those comfortable chairs which turns into a makeshift bed. No, it’s one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs with the thin wooden arms that not even my worst enemies deserve to sleep on.
His long, blonde hair covers part of his face. His leg is hiked up, foot pressed on the cushion, and he’s leaning over the side with his head pressed against his fist. He looks so uncomfortable. But he’s here. He didn’t leave me. And somehow, I know he’s been here the whole time. I think of waking him but I’m not sure how long he’s gone without sleep, so I decide against it. I reach towards the table on my side, finding I am able to move without it hurting too much or causing nausea. There is a small can of juice there and I’d love nothing more than to have a sip. I notice the other one I drank from is gone. I can only assume that means it’s been a while since the last time I was awake.
I reach over for the can but I’m weaker than I anticipated. It drops from my hand, landing on the floor with a loud slap and rolls somewhere under the bed. Lenny jumps up, getting into a defensive stance as if he’s about to fight off an enemy. When he realizes it’s just me, his face softens and a sleepy smile appears. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to tame it back. We have the same kind of hair, just different shades. His is closer to a dirty blonde color while mine is more like a white blonde.
“You’re awake.” He lets out a small sigh, sitting back into the chair and yawning.
“Yeah,” I say, or try to say. The word barely comes out a whisper, but it’s better than nothing. Lenny looks to the floor, picks up the can and opens it for me. He grabs the straw from the table, inserts it and brings it to my mouth. I sip slowly and I’m internally happy when it doesn’t upset my stomach like it did the last time. It does send my taste buds into a frenzy though.
“How long have I been here?” I manage to get the words out slowly.
Lenny looks down at his phone. “It’s been four days.”
I nod my head. Could’ve been worse.
“Where’s Lina? Is she okay?”
“She’s uh,” he clears his throat. My chest tightens because I have a feeling he doesn’t have good news. “I’m sorry, sis. Lina didn’t make it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Leona
I spend the next three days in the hospital and then the doctor finally clears me to go home. They mostly kept me for observation because there isn’t anything wrong with me. I hadn’t broken any bones, which they said was a miracle. I had some internal swelling, but their biggest concern was me falling into a coma even though I was fine, outside of scrapes and bruises, which seemed to heal relatively fast. I overheard the doctor having a conversation with Lenny about me being a Paranormal, but Lenny assured him I wasn’t. The doctor wasn’t convinced since I’d healed so quickly but I’ve never been hurt before. Nothing that required a hospital visit anyway. Maybe this is normal for me. Some people heal quicker than others. Or maybe I’m just really lucky.
When I get home, I lock myself in my room, needing time to myself. Lina is dead. She’s dead. She’s gone and I’ll never see her again. I don’t even know how to feel about that. It hasn’t sunk in yet. When I get to my bed there is a brand new phone sitting on it, still in the box. Mine was destroyed in the crash. I pick up the box and find a note on top.
Got everything switched over.
Love you, kid.
-M
He can be sweet when he’s not being a cocky, interrogating jerk. I appreciate the gesture more than he knows, but I don’t care about the phone right now. I just want my friend back.
Phones can be replaced. Lives cannot. My friend cannot. And in no way can I blame her. Not even remotely. Sure, she glanced at her phone, but she didn’t text. Didn’t take her hands off the wheel. In no way was this her fault. Whoever was behind us, they are the ones to blame. They rear ended us. And I’m pretty sure it was done on purpose.
I look around my room, waves of emotion taking over. When I lost my mom, I didn’t feel anything. That’s a lie. I did feel something. I felt hope. Hopeful my life would be different, maybe even good. A fresh start. Hopeful the brother I never knew would come and save me. Maybe I would leave and have a wonderful life, full of colorful things, toys to play with, food to eat, and people to love and to love me in return.
My dreams came true the day my mother died.
For the longest time I wished she hadn’t been the way she was. I wished she had raised Lenny and me together. I wished I had grown up with my brother and a mother who wasn’t addicted to putting poison into her veins.
But the funny thing about all of those wishes is I wouldn’t be where I am today. Neither would Lenny. I would never take this away from him, this amazing life he has. Things would be different for everyone if all my wishes come true. And that just wouldn’t be fair.
Losing my best friend? The one who has been here for me since day one, and for no reason other than wanting to be my friend… it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. Looking around my room all I see are memories.
Memories of Lina and me. The spot on the floor where we would always sit when she came over. The photos of us hanging on the wall above my desk. Her sweatshirt that’s on the back of my chair, it’s been hanging there for well over a year because she was always cold and doesn’t like the way mine fit her. The spot on the floor in the corner where we spilled a bottle of nail polish. We were only thirteen at the time and still to this day no one other than us knows about it. Well, now it’s only me who knows about it.
Sitting in my room, alone on my bed, I decide it’s finally time to come clean about what’s going on. I need to tell my family about those photos. And they need to know the accident may not have been an accident at all. I told everyone in the hospital I didn’t remember what happened—they assured me that was common, there is a chance I may not remember at all. I didn’t want to get into a conversation about stalkers with people I don’t know; you never know who you can trust. But my family? They need to know.
An officer visited me in the hospital a couple of days ago. He came to see what I remembered about the accident. I told him the same thing I told the doctors when they asked. I don’t remember anything. It’s all a blur. He told me the only other car at the scene was the one that hit us the second time. An elderly woman named Grace (how ironic), who thankfully made it out alive and unharmed since she was driving her son’s SUV that night. Her car was in the shop. If she’d been driving it, her and Lina would have switched places, I’m sure. Of course she isn’t being charged with anything since it wasn’t her fault, but she h
as to live with the guilt of Lina’s lost life for the rest of hers. I don’t blame Grace. There is no way she could have avoided what happened. I’ll find anger in me one day over this, but today isn’t that day.
I’m going to tell them about this mess. Just not right now. I place the unopened phone box on the end table, leaving the note attached. I lay down, get under the blankets, and I let the tears fall. Because after all I’ve been through, everything with my mom and moving here, crying is something I’ve never done.
I must’ve cried myself to sleep because I wake up a little while later and the sun is going down. The sharp hues of pink and purple brighten the sky before it turns dark for the night. Fitting to my mood because sunlight is not something I want to see right now. I shuffle to the bathroom knowing I need a proper shower. I haven’t had one of those in well over a week. I keep thinking about how lucky I was during the accident to have not gotten hurt. But I’d gladly take a few broken bones and months of therapy if it would have kept Lina alive.
I still cannot believe she’s gone.
Tears threaten to fall, and I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting them away. I’ve cried enough today.
Her parents came to visit me in the hospital before I left yesterday. They are a mess, as expected. They both came in with tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. They didn’t stay for long, only long enough to see I was okay and to let me know I’m welcome to visit whenever I want. Something a phone call would have covered, but I appreciate them going out of their way to make the visit. Seeing them was not easy. Lina is a spitting image of her mother and I’m not sure if visiting will be a happy reminder of my best friend or a ghost which will haunt me at my weakest moments.
The funeral is on Monday and no one put up an argument in regard to me skipping school for it even though I missed the entirety of last week. In fact, if I know our school at all, it’ll probably be cancelled so the students can attend without worry. Because as strict as Roseland is about education, they understand mental health is real and just as important, if not more, than physical health. You will not succeed in bad mental space. It’s just facts.
I make the water as hot as I can tolerate. It feels amazing on my skin; my muscles soaking up the heat and warmth. It’s exactly what I need right now. I stand under the hot spray until my skin is burning red and then I stand there longer. I lean my head against the wall, breathing in the steam and allowing it to cleanse my body. When the temperature begins to cool, I wash up and get out. I wrap my hair in a towel and another around me. I brush my teeth twice, knowing it’s been too long since I’ve been able to.
I dress myself in oversized jogging pants and a sweatshirt—something that used to belong to Lenny—wanting nothing more than to be comfortable. I leave the phone where it is, still no interest in looking at it or hearing from anyone. After the way people at school have been treating me—I have not forgotten about the girls at the theatre or Cassidy and her hellions—I know their apologies will be out of pity and I don’t want pity from anyone.
The house is quiet when I get downstairs and I realize it’s because everyone is outside, sitting around the fire. I think of joining them but I’m not in the mood to be around a bunch of people, but I am hungry.
I head into the kitchen looking for something to eat. I haven’t had a lot of food over this last week, and I can see it in my body. I’ve dropped a few pounds, something I really didn’t need to happen. I was too skinny when I moved here, but quickly reached a healthy weight. I worry more about losing too much weight, rather than gaining it. I think the skinny thing is in our genes though. Mom was thin and tall, so is Lenny, and so am I.
The doctor made sure I was keeping food down before he let me go, but I wasn’t made to eat a lot; I only had to tolerate it. I open the fridge, knowing there has to be something good in here. Callan is always cooking for an army, and even with all these people in the house, there are always leftovers.
Not only do I find stacks of containers filled with food, but I find a plate covered in foil labelled with my name. Wait… two plates. I uncover the first one and find lasagna. The second is a rather large piece of chocolate crème pie and I am not disappointed for even a second. My mouth begins to water as I close the fridge with my hip.
A wave of guilt washes over me for avoiding everyone just now. They have done so much for me, and continue to, yet I can’t even go out there to spend time with them. What kind of person am I?
“What’s with all the moping?”
Alec was never one to sugar coat things, even with me. It’s something I appreciate about him. If you want something exactly how it is, you go to him.
I look over my shoulder towards him, crumpling the tin foil into a ball.
“Oh, you know. Just thinking about how much of a terrible person I am.”
“The accident wasn’t your fault.”
His words hit me right in the chest. Why? I’m not sure. I know the accident wasn’t my fault. Right? I mean, I didn’t do anything.
But the person that hit us… What if they were the person sending me the photos? What if they were coming after me and… and the wrong person died.
“I know.” I force the words out, even though I’m not sure I agree with them.
“Do you?”
A tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly, shoving the plate of lasagna into the microwave and closing it a little too roughly. I stab the numbered buttons and press start.
“Leona.” Alec’s tone is firm. I know he isn’t going to tolerate me ignoring him, so I turn around and stare at the floor, my arms crossed over my chest. He steps closer to me, placing his hands gently on my shoulders. “Look at me, please.” I hesitate but look up and meet his eyes. His brows are furrowed and he’s giving me the look. “The accident was not your fault. Bad things happen. That’s life. I’ve blamed myself over Aaron’s death for years. I’d be lying if I said I don’t anymore. I still do at times. I don’t want you living your life with unnecessary guilt. Trust me, it isn’t worth it. There is nothing you could have done. It was an accident.”
“But what if it wasn’t?” I ask quietly. His eyes widen a fraction, but he doesn’t say anything. “I think… there’s something I need to tell you.”
I sit down at the table with my plate of food even though I’m no longer hungry. Alec had to bring everyone their drinks before they came inside looking for them. He promised he would be right back so we can talk. He asked if I wanted anyone else here, I told him I didn’t. I know how each of them can be, and he’s my best bet at remaining calm while I get everything out. Even if he’s raging on the inside, he’ll handle it and talk about it the way it needs to be talked about. He won’t overact like the rest of them would.
He comes back not too long after, taking a seat across from me. He folds his hands and rests them on the table.
“Leona, if you did something, we will figure it out. People make mistakes…”
I shake my head slowly. “That isn’t it. It’s nothing like that. I’m not even sure if it really happened. What if what I think happened, didn’t happen? What if it’s my minds way of making me okay with Lina’s death?”
This thought has crossed my mind more than once. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen. People’s brains make things up all the time. It’s a normal coping mechanism.
Alec searches my eyes for a moment before saying, “Just tell me your version and we will go from there.”
I spill everything to him. I tell him about the photos I found in my locker and the others that were mailed here. He keeps a straight face the entire time, but I know he’s angry on the inside. I then tell him about the car ride and how I had a strange feeling most of the day. I tell him about the car that was following us, the bright headlights, them ramming into us, causing Lina to lose control and… die. About how I remembered every last detail but didn’t want to bring it up at the hospital because I was scared and still am. Scared someone is after me and scared I’m the reason my best frie
nd is dead.
I still can’t believe she is dead.
I tell him everything while staring at my food, unable to take even one bite.
When I’m finished explaining, I look up. His jaw is clenched and I can see the anger radiating in his eyes, but he keeps it on a leash. It’s why I knew telling him was the right decision. I’m not sure I could have said everything I needed to say to any of the others.
He was my safest bet.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I ask after a long beat of silence. A tiny bit worried I may have sent him over the edge with this.
“Yes.”
Okay.
I sit there in silence, poking around at my food knowing I should eat it, but I no longer want to. I’m trying to give him whatever time he needs to process what I told him. If he does blow up over this, it’s only my fault. I knew I should have told them sooner. I should have told them right away. My stomach is in knots, worried about how he is handling this. I know he won’t take it out on me. He won’t yell at me or anything. I’m worried he’s struggling with this internally, maybe this is too much for him to handle.
Alec has a rough past. I don’t know a lot of it, but I’ve heard a few things over the years. And I’m the biggest hypocrite when it comes to him because as much as I hate when people pity me, I can’t help but feel a small tinge of pity for him. I find myself thinking his mental state is fragile even though he’s never shown me anything but the opposite.
