Page 83 of As the Rain Falls
He shakes his head again, faster this time, like he doesn’t believe me. His shoulders are trembling.
“I wish it was me. Then, this would be over and I wouldn’t feel like I have to hurt you anymore. You wouldn’t hate me, and we would be okay again.”
I don’t have an answer to that, at least not one that wouldn’t make things worse. So instead, I touch his arm. My hand, small and unsure, wraps around his, and Nathaniel shudders a little but doesn’t pull away.
My thumb presses against the center of his palm, rubbing it gently.
“Why do you do this, Nathie? Why did you have to throw the Tupperware at me?”
“I don’t know.”
“I wasn’t talking to any boys,” I promise. “I… It was Kayla. I can show you the texts, if you really want to see them.”
“No, I believe you,” he murmurs, watching me. “I know you’re a good girl. You’ve been so good to us. I’m just so goddamn tired of this.”
“I know.”
“Do you even know what it’s like to be inside my head?” Nathaniel asks. “To have that itch all the time. It’s exhausting.”
Then, stop. I want to say, or maybe even beg and before I know it, I’m saying it out loud.
“Please, stop hurting me. Let’s just do better, please?”
My nerves all rise, waiting for his answer. His grip around my hand tightens, and at first it feels gentle and soft, until his fingers start pressing my knuckles together too much and it hurts. I wince a little bit which causes Nathaniel to release me.
Whatever kind of intimacy this moment holds makes him feel comfortable enough to ask an unsettling question.
“Do you ever miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“When I’d take you to the park,” he wonders, voice coated with longing. It’s too dramatic, too theatrical. His emotion feels fake. “I’ll never forget how you’d beg me to race you to the gates. We used to have fun.”
“I…” I drop his hand, as if burned. “I don’t know. I don’t even remember.”
He smiles, as if remembering something particularly funny.
“Of course, you don’t.”
Nathaniel motions to the wall beneath my mirror, and he makes a motion with his other hand that reminds me of the move he’d have to pull to grab something and slam it against the surface. I blink fast, remembering that this is where he got me and almost gave me the concussion.
The room feels colder, heavier as I realize once again that he won’t.
My brother willneverstop hurting me.
It’s a matter of time before he starts hurting others or himself.The anger he keeps inside is not something we can placate or a feeling he can control. And it’s not a question of want; he can’t. This is who he is, a ticking bomb, waiting to explode.He doesn’t regret hurting me, not really.I don’t only know that; I’m certain of it.
My parents think they can control him, keep him on a leash, but they can’t. There’s something in the way Nathaniel’s brain is wired, something that isn’t quite right. My brother isn’t normal, and he will never be.
Think about it, Cassandra. Think about what you’re ignoring.
“I think you should go back to your room, Nathaniel.”
We have rules.
He is not supposed to come to my room, ever.
Not anymore.
