Page 3 of Alamort

Well, he should get in line to join the club. Rolling my eyes, I sit up straighter, clearing my throat, “Can we stop somewhere? I have to use the bathroom.”

“No. Your parents said straight to school from the flight.”

“Baldie, if you think I won’t piss in this seat to prove a point, you’re sadly mistaken. Plus, I want some snacks …. I’m starving.” I say as nonchalantly as I can muster, hoping he doesn’t see straight through my lies.

“You literally just ate on the plane. I was two rows behind you.” He scoffs.

Hmm. Okay? I didn’t know I had my own personal stalker to accompany me to a fucking school, not death row. That should raise a red flag, but regardless, I need to make this stop.

Leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees, to glare at his fat head until his shit brown eyes meet mine in the rear-view mirror. Usually, I’m timid but, things change and I refuse to back down from my last stock-up before I’m locked away in a school where I have no idea when I’ll be allowed to leave campus. He relents, breaking eye contact first.

“Fine, but make it quick. I don’t want to turn this into an all-day trip.”

Hurrying to cover my smug smile, I grab my phone and slip in my wireless headphones to lose myself in my “Pity Party” playlist. Feeling lost and definitely in the mood to feel sorry for myself, I click “Summertime Sadness” by Lana to have some background music and lay on the seat, propping my feet on the door panel and drown myself in my gloomy thoughts.

At this point, I might as well dye my hair black, get some face piercings and all-black clothes with how life’s been going. I snort at the imaginary breakdown my mother, Anna, would have if she were ever around.

This morning when I left, my parents didn’t even say goodbye or see their only remaining child off. I woke up to the familiar stillness of the lifeless, cold estate. When I asked Miranda, my mom’s assistant, she condescendingly looked down at me and informed me that both my parents had very important, unmovable meetings and had left the night before. They never made time for me, so I wasn’t sure why I thought my leave of absence would be any different.

I spent the rest of the morning emptying my stomach in the toilet until only acidic yellow bile remained. I couldn’t bear the idea of leaving my sister behind. Or maybe I was throwing up the last remnants of trying so hard to fit in with this family. That’s when it hit me. I am truly alone.

It wasn’t always like this though. The first time our bond solidified was when Addison saw the bruises on my body and my split lip from our father. Something that day had broken in her. She held me and rocked me back and forth in her armswhile crying for hours, as if the pain I couldn’t voice aloud was her own. She forced me to sleep with her for a week until I convinced her I would be okay in my own bedroom. I could tell she felt accountable for not being able to fend off the monsters that haunted me.

Shortly after high school started, it got worse whenever I was alone with our father, as if my presence itself enraged him. Simple backhands became full-on beatings. Addison would try to make sure I was never left alone with our father, always putting herself in his path and diffusing the situation before it escalated. As time passed, a sense of responsibility fell on me to protect her, just as she had protected me. Robert got more careful to not damage my face, and I became more cautious and withdrawn to keep her away from the guilt she felt each time she saw me knowing she wasn’t able to prevent his bad temper.

By internalizing the pain, I could gather enough strength for both of us. All the times she rushed home from school, skipping practices, staying at home instead of going out with friends to make sure I was safe, sacrificing a piece of myself for her happiness was the least I could do. So, for her, I pretended.

I found a different way to cope. Cutting to bring myself a sense of a different kind of relief. Sometimes to deal with the pain, other times the guilt I had from hiding it from Addi.

My parents have been looking for any excuse to get rid of me, even before Addi. She was the final push they needed to pull the trigger. I tried to be the perfect child. I really did. Not for them, but to shoulder the worry my sister constantly faced on my behalf.

But the more I tried, the more resentment poured from them. I got good grades, but Addison had a 4.0 GPA, so I enrolled for extra credit, which involved tutoring. My sister was a cheerleader, so I joined extracurricular activities. It was never enough.

I wasn’t enough.

After hearing the news of my sister’s sudden and tragic death… I couldn’t believe it. I went straight into denial and currently live there.

One cheerleader had gotten ahold of me that day, asking if I was okay because there was a fire at the school. I knew she was reaching out only for gossip, but she was asking the wrong sister.

I texted and called Addi repeatedly. My messages went undelivered, and my calls, straight to voicemail. My heart beating out of my chest with every unanswered attempt I made. Begging a God I didn’t believe in to tell me it wasn’t true, only to be met with silence.

When I got to the school, the library was in flames. The sight mesmerized me, in awe of the destruction, the flames licking the sky before putting two and two together. Realizing the severity of the situation when I saw the fire pouring out of the library windows and eating up the sides of the building, with police and firefighters failing to contain it.

I spent the rest of that night screaming and destroying whatever I could get my hands on. Trying to piece everything together to make it make sense.

The thing about grief is it’s never beautiful. It’s a melancholy that became a permanent fixture, haunting my every step and never letting go. An ache soul deep that never ends.

There are moments when it feels like a sudden, unexpected blow to my chest, leaving a gaping, exposed wound.

Grief is brutal and ugly. Addison’s absence left a void in songs. They now lack the magic of her voice. The sun lost its luminance, and the flowers wilt a little more without her presence. At times, her smell taunts me like a whisper. It’s by far the most painful thing I’ve lived through. A black smoke slowly seeping its way into all aspects of my life. The memory of losingeverything replays in my mind, as vivid as if it were happening all over again.

I’m in a personal time loop, stuck in my version of hell.

My parents blame me for the fire that I didn’t start. Their first assumption was the only person they knew that lived for the havoc and destruction fire causes. They blamed me. My fingers tighten around my phone, my veins fill with bitterness, eating me from the inside out.

The heat wells up in my chest, a rage that starts softly and pulses like its own entity.

I’m angry Addison left me here to fend for myself. She left me alone. She allowed me to love her the way I did, that she became the center of my world and fucking left me here in a world without her. One where I’ve never had to live a day without her by my side. Her laugh and smile echo around every corner, taunting me with what I’ll never have again.

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