Page 39 of 4-Ever

“But how?—”

“I went over to visit him last night because he wouldn’t return my phone calls. When he didn’t answer, I used the spare key and found him lying in his bathroom,” she choked out. “Hannah left him months ago. All her stuff is gone. There was hardly anything left in the condo. Everything is a mess.”

“I’m heading home.”

I didn’t think twice. I didn’t even text the guys. No point saying anything until I knew for sure what was going on.

The only person I told was our security lead, Regan, because if I didn’t, she’d have reamed me out. That evening, with her in tow as my bodyguard, and after jumping on the quickest available flight, I found myself back in Rhode Island. I went to the hospital first and met my parents there.

“How is he?” I asked as I walked up and gave them each a hug.

“He’s awake. Can you talk to him? He doesn’t want to see us,” my mom cried, and Dad pulled her into his arms.

I understood. The shame and the guilt of being an addict can weigh as heavy as the addiction itself. I gave my parents a reassuring squeeze and let go. Without pause, I entered Rae’s room, Regan waiting at a distance. My brother’s pallor was grey, and he had lost so much weight I hardly recognized him.

It was scary, because looking at him now was like looking at myself.

As I stepped closer, I spotted the track marks on his arms. And the angry red scabs, old and new, that littered his body, his face.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He blinked and finally opened his eyes. They were bloodshot, weary, so unlike my brother that it knocked the remaining breath right out of me.

“Hey big brother. It’s been a while,” I stated, sitting down in a chair by his bedside.

His eyes welled up, but he shook his head. “Go away.”

“No.”

“Faise—” he warned.

“Me of all people? Come on, Rae. Talk to me. What the fuck happened?”

He barked out a laugh. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“What?”

“Talk to me? You?”

“Okay, so I’m not the best at communicating?—”

Rae scoffed.

“—but I’ve been here myself, remember? How the hell did this happen?”

He let out a shaky sigh.

“Hannah left. I lost my job at the firm thanks to downsizing, and I couldn’t find another one. Well, one that paid as much. Money was tight. We were spending more than we were taking in. And when I finally confronted her and said we’d need to cut back, that’s when she told me she was having an affair. She’s taken up with some other guy. Rich as fuck. Just like that, she left me. So much for sticking it out for better or worse.”

“Fuck, Rae, I’m so sorry.”

“After she left five months ago, I started going out a lot. Dive bars, strip clubs. Anything to forget,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I started partying with people I met there. At first, it was just booze and pot, and a few pills to get high. Then I needed more. Everything was getting worse. My depression. My money problems. I got another job, at half the pay, but I was staying out all hours and I couldn’t get up in the mornings. Lost that job too.”

He coughed and cleared his throat. There was a glass of water on the table beside him, so I grabbed it and held it up to his lips.

“Thanks,” he whispered. “Fuck, my life is a total mess.”

Guilt hit me hard and fast. “I wish I’d have reached out more often, maybe I could’ve?—”

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