Page 81 of All My Broken Pieces

At the sound of his name, Cooper whips his head in my direction, his honey eyes meeting mine. “Arri!” He cries, throwing his arms out.

And suddenly it’s like I’m that young girl again, seeking comfort in the presence of the only other person who cared enough about me to be there when I needed him.

I nearly sprint across the room and throw my arms around his waist, swallowing around the emotions I’ve been beating down. My attempts to fight against them are useless as a tear leaks out and slips down my cheek when he wraps his arms around me.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” His deep voice rumbles after a few moments of tense silence.

Gulping down the fear, I pull out of his embrace. My eyes shift toward the couch and I quickly wipe away the frustrating liquid leaking from my eyes.

He follows my gaze, cursing under his breath. Shrugging out of his jacket, he strides across the room and kneels beside Fallon. I watch as he presses his fingers against her throat, then her wrist, and her ankle. “How long has she been like this?” His earlier excitement is gone, replaced by an intense concentration.

“A-a few minutes.” I manage to stammer out in response, nearly leaping out of my skin when arms encircle my body from behind. Glancing up and over my shoulder, I find Andrew peering down at me.

“Hey, princess.” He murmurs, tightening his hold. His earlier frustration set aside to comfort me. “She’s going to be okay.”

My heartbeat thunders in my ears, but I nod my head despite the fear coursing through me. “She better be.” I mutter, turning my attention back toward Cooper. “What can I do?” I beg. Needing to do something,anything.

He shakes his head, continuing his examination. My gaze travels over Fallon’s body, noting the shallow rise and fall of her chest, much slower than it was just a few moments before.

“She’s getting worse.” I whisper, clutching at Andrew’s arms. “I-I can’t…” Cooper raises his eyes to meet mine, a similar concern reflecting back at me in his. “No sobrevivré, hermano.”

He runs his hand through his hair, releasing a slow breath. “Lo sé.” And somehow his understanding makes it all that much worse. Because he does know. He knows what I’ve lost.

“¿Mamá?” My call is met with silence. Closing the front door behind me, I walk into the darkened hall. “¿Papá?” Still more silence.

Shouldering my school bag, I sigh heavily and make my way into the kitchen. My stomach growls loudly as I drop the bag on the table. Pulling open the fridge, I hunt for something to eat. My shoulders slump at the empty shelves.

It’s been a few days since my last decent meal and I was hoping there might be some food today. If I’ve got the dates right, today’s the day we get money from the state. Usually that means food.

Shutting the door, I continue my search, checking empty cupboard after empty cupboard. My eyes land on a small box of crackers on the top shelf, a small triumphant cry escaping my lips. Moving across the room, I grab the edge of one of the chairs lining the table and pull as hard as I can. The legs scrape loudly across the floor, making so much noise I’m nervous I’ll get in trouble.

I finally manage to drag it against the counter, pausing to suck in a breath, my arms aching from the effort it took. Clambering onto the chair, I climb up on the countertop and stretch my arm as far as it will reach. “Come on, just a little more.” I mumble, pushing up on my tiptoes. My fingers brush the box, and I stifle my excited cry as I grab it.

Hopping down, I open the box and shove one of the stale crackers into my mouth, my stomach growling loudly at the promise of food. I smile, humming softly as I snatch up my bag again and make my way toward the back of the house.

“¿Mamá, Papá?” I call again, dry bits of cracker flying out of my mouth. “¿Dónde estás?”

They should be here. Today is supposed to be a good day. Money day.

I turn the corner and glance toward their bedroom.

Maybe they’re sleeping?

Slipping into my room, I toss my bag onto my bed. I glance down at the now empty box in my hands, pouting at the realization the crackers are gone. The small snack has done nothing to stop the ache in my stomach.

Tossing the empty box down beside my bag, I turn around and walk across the hall. My palms sweat as I stare at the closed door. They don’t like it when I bother them, but…

Knocking on the door, I wait. And I wait.

“¿Holaaa?” I call out, knocking again.

Silence.

Sighing, I reach for the doorknob, freezing with my hand hovering over the faded handle. I don’t want to get in trouble, but I’m so hungry. Gripping the doorknob, I twist and slowly push the door open.

My eyes squint, trying to adjust to the darkness. I can make out a large shape on the floor, but that can’t be right. Why would they be sleeping on the floor?

I creep inside, stumbling in the dark. Reaching my hand out to try to steady myself, I trip and fall, landing beside the figure. I blink several times, straining to see. “¿Mamá?” I whisper, pushing to my knees and crawling closer.

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