Page 13 of Playing with Fire

"Yeah?!" she shouts back.

"Have you seen Tristan?" I asked.

"Not since you guys left this morning!" she responds.

I purse my lips together in thought. Kicking off my shoes, where is he?

I just came back from the yearbook and sent him a text earlier. He should have responded because he normally excels at doing that yet he's still silent. Maybe he's at Nolan's. After talking onNolan's phone for sixty seconds I received the information that he wasn't present.

Well, what the fuck? Where could he be?

I head upstairs and then place my bag inside my room. I move toward the top of the stairs and knock on his door but receive no answer.

"Tristan?" I place my head against his door while asking him if he's there.

No sound reaches my ears and there is no detectable movement whatsoever. I open his door very slowly to make sure he doesn't hear me if he's asleep.

Like I thought, he wasn't there.

After closing his door, I start my return trip to my room. Upon reaching my door I find myself looking across the hall at another door.

Shit. As I gazed at the wooden entrance, I realized it was the singular thing in my view.

Before opening the door, I took a deep breath asI moved forward with a tired step. I spotted Tristan sitting still while his body trembled as he remained seated at the bed's edge.

He bends his neck towards his hands while he grips a small picture frame. I understood what he was viewing but I was troubled by my ignorance of his duration here.

The atmosphere of the room always created a feeling of discomfort within me. I wasn't going to pass out, but there was something about the atmosphere in this room.

Noelle occupied this room when she was a young girl. My head spun with memories from the past as soon as I closed the door slowly which made me feel dizzy.

I remember everything about her, Noelle. Until my final breath she remains my sister.

My conversations about her have decreased over time because discussing her memory brings increasing pain each year. Our little sister lost her battle with the most devastating illness known to mankind.

Leukemia.

I hate that word more than anything. She stood as my sole sibling who listened to my issues without criticism or parental advice and without mocking me.

She stood out as the most wonderful person in existence. The world changed completely in the years following her death.

I prefer stability but after she died, I needed to cope with the new reality. To honor her memory my parents refused to change her room which stayed exactly as it was before she left. It meant maintaining the pink walls, butterfly tapestries and white desk and furniture in her room.

I approached the bed because I could hear my brother making quiet sobbing noises.

I knew he would be here. He always is around this time. The worst effects of her condition appear for Tristan several months before she passes away.

The situation is sad, but I feel relieved that he faces his grief before everyone else does. I disintegrate into a total wreck when the day arrives while he manages to stay composed.

Tristan stays strong for me yet occasionally becomes completely unemotional. I'm unsure of his emotional strength but hope he doesn't need it. The bed makes its usual noise as I sit beside him and pull him toward my body in a tight embrace. My shoulder supported his head as his body trembled while I approached tears myself.

"I miss her so much, Em." he sniffles.

"I know," I say, holding back emotions. "I know you do, Ty. We all do."

Upon taking the photo from his Hands, I glanced at it which revealed it was our last family photo taken before we laid it on the mattress behind us. His continuous sobbing made me draw him closer to me and broke my heart as much as it always does. "She was so young, Em." he cried. "Why did it have to be her?"

His voice vibrations traveled through my shirt and overwhelmed me with emotion.

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