Page 15 of Shattered

Chapter eleven

Brayden

“What the fuck is going on with you?” I stare down at Bexley, who lies on the bed staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Bexley,” I snap. His eyes meet mine.

“What?” he sighs, his feet crossed at his ankles. He likely doesn’t have much reaction after the joint he smoked to calm his nerves after the police being here. This is the second time this week shit has gone down with Bexley.

“This is the second time the police have been here. I thought it was a fucking ambulance.” I run my fingers through my hair for the fourth time in the past minute. I walk back and forth across the short width of our small room while he lies motionless.

“You don’t need to come here every time I fuck up, Bray. It’s not your problem.” He mutters and then sighs, giving off exhaustion and disinterest toward everything and everyone.

“Yes, I do. You’re my brother, Bex. Is there a part of you being my brother, my fucking twin, the person I’d risk everything for,that you fail to comprehend? Fuck!” I throw myself onto the end of the bed, slouching with my elbows on my knees and my knuckles pressed against my chin. “What happened?” I sigh, too tired to fight with Bexley.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened at the game yesterday?” he swerves my question with a question. Something Bexley is good at, no matter how high he is.

“It doesn’t matter.” I mumble as I stare at a picture of Bex and me pinned to the wall. We stumbled upon ten dollars at the fun fair when we were ten. Instead of using it for rides or sweets, we used it to get a cartoon sketch of ourselves in the picture booth. Both of us are captured on camera, Bexley laughing with closed eyes and me smiling. Right before the picture, I let out a fart and Bexley couldn’t stop laughing. I miss those days. Even though we hate being in the trailer with Mom and we never knew if we would get fed or not, it didn’t matter. We had each other. That was enough to keep a smile on our faces.

“Bray, you’re lucky your teammates were there to pull you off. It could have ended a lot worse.” I notice the bed shifting and I glance over to find him sitting up. I lock eyes with him, his bloodshot hazy blue swirls meet mine. “What did that guy on the ice say to make you react that way?”

I gesture by shaking my head, locking eyes with you briefly, and then redirect my attention to the picture.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper. Wanting to forget about Mackey and every bad thing in our life. It seems Bexley gets the message that I’m not interested in discussing it. He gently nods his head.

“You were amazing out there, Bray.” Bex moves next to me on the bed, his knee knocking mine as he sits next to me, both of our bodies taking up the small bed. “I missed watching you play.” I shift my eyes to Bexley’s face and find him fixated on the Pinboard picture. He doesn’t look at me. Seeing him fixate on the picture of us, I instinctively turn my head and do the same.If we shut our eyes, even for a moment, we might be transported back there.

“The OG Quake.” He inwardly laughs. “I don’t think you realize the buzz it gives people watching you.”

“Maybe if you keep watching me, that buzz will be enough, and you won’t have to go searching for other things to give you a buzz. I would play for you every minute of the day if that were the case.” I blurt it out without a second thought, instantly draining all the joy from Bexley. It feels as if a dark cloud has suddenly engulfed both of us. The black cloud is constantly lurking in the shadows, prepared to show up.

“I wish it would be enough too,” he sighs. He is aware of his addiction, but rarely acknowledges or discusses it. This is the closest I think I’ve ever come. We remain silent and content, our eyes fixed on the picture. I wish I knew what was going through his mind. Does he miss the old days? Does he wish to go back to those days? I want to ask him, but he hates me talking about our childhoods. They weren’t great, but they weren’t always bad. But I guess for him they were worse. He will get all twitchy and walk out of the trailer. He’s right next to me, our knees touching. It’s been a while since we’ve been this close. And if it means I can have him with me a little longer, even if we don’t say a word, I’ll cherish it.

“Who was the guy that brought you here today?”

“My teacher. While I was at the gym, I received a call and—”

“Call? Who called you?” Bexley interrupts me, before I can continue.

“Oh, I uh don’t know. I was too worried about questioning it. It has to be someone in the park, right?” Bexley nods, his lips pressed together, as he turns to face the bed and stares at the floor.

“Your teacher, is he cool?” With a frown, Bexley studies the floor, likely pondering if Mr. Stiles will bring up today’s events atmy school. I mean probably, yeah. What teacher wouldn’t? I’ve been too worried about Bex. Per usual, I didn’t think about how this will affect me.

I shrug. “I mean, Karl attempted to beat the shit out of him and failed.” I smile a little. Seeing that guy have his ass handed to him has got to be number one on my wish list. That mental image of him lying on the floor will stay with me forever. “Maybe he might think it will affect his job, so he might say nothing. I will have to see what happens when I get to school tomorrow.” I frown at the floor, taking another deep gulp of air. The familiar tightness in my chest emerges as I discreetly dig my nails into my wrists. The pain doesn’t bother me; it distracts me from my racing heart and the sweat on my neck. The feeling of having a weight sitting on my chest slowly eases as I drop my head and close my eyes.

“Something tells me your teacher will be cool tomorrow,” Bexley mumbles. He doesn’t know him and neither do I, but it’s not something I’m going to worry about now.

Our peaceful silence is abruptly interrupted by a phone notification, snapping us back to reality. Bexley shifts beside me, and I prepare myself with a deep inhale. I already know what’s coming. Bexley rises beside me.

“Bye,” I grunt, already knowing he’s leaving, no doubt to get more drugs or sell them. Why can’t he love me more than the drugs? Why can’t he put me before the drugs? “You know what, no.” I stand, coming face-to-face with my brother. His empty chilling eyes stare back at me, void of any emotion. “You’re here with me. Why can’t you chill with me for longer? Why do you have to run to that fucking prick Karl that has ruined our fucking life, Bexley?” My voice gets louder. “I’m fucking here. Stay here.” I point to the floor and puff my chest out. Why? I don’t know, but I’m mad. I’m so fucking mad right now. Every time that piece of shit rings or messages, Bexley goes running. When Bexley beganselling drugs for that piece of shit, he essentially made a deal with the devil, and we all know the consequences of such a deal.

You never get it back.

Bexley pulls me closer, wrapping one arm around my shoulder and the other around my back. As he pulls me closer, I can’t resist sinking into his arms. I nestle my face into his shoulder and squeeze him tightly. I can still smell my brother. He’s still somewhere inside, deeply buried.

“Do me a favor. When people want to help you, don’t shut them out or push them away.” Bex’s mellow voice makes me want to cry. I hate feeling weak, but the only person I would ever allow to see me crumble would be Bex.

“Letting people in hurts.”

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