Page 83 of Hale
“I just wanted Amy to check on my sister. I didn’t think—”
“Nothing else, son. Don’t say anything.”
Nodding, I choke back my emotion. “Thank you.”
He hangs up and my heart feels heavy. Rylie won’t take this well. I need Amy to check on her and make sure she’s okay.
My mind is still a fog and it isn’t until they’ve long shut the door behind me to a holding cell that I let it all sink in. It happened. No matter how hard we tried, the forces trying to pull us apart were stronger.
They won.
And we fucking lost.
Her cries of anguish gut me. They reverberate through the thin walls that separate our bedrooms and rattle their way into my soul.
They’re dead. They’re dead. They’re fucking dead.
I’ve only been home for a few hours, but it’s enough to realize Rylie is going to really need me. We lost our parents. She’s already so fragile and broken. It’ll be up to me to look after her because Mom and Dad can’t.
I think about those times a few years ago when her depression got worse as puberty hit. Mom and Dad were always doing their best to console her. So many times she’d cry in her bed at night—times that used to annoy me. Looking back, I realize it was me who was wrong. In my shitty life where I have everyone convinced I have a plan and a future, nothing lives inside me. I’m empty.
Rylie’s not empty.
She’s filled with more emotions than a normal human can manage. Inside of her lives anger and sadness and despair. I should have been left with the happiness, but it would seem it’s an elusive emotion the Hales aren’t privy to.
Mom and Dad were our happiness.
Those times when I felt like the pressure was too much, all it took was an encouraging, supportive phone call from Mom. A one or two-worded text from Dad that meant everything. They may not have been rich like Aunt Becky and Uncle Randy, but my parents did everything for us. Their entire world existed to provide us with not only a good, safe home and lifestyle, but also with unconditional love.
Rylie’s wails grow louder.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Something deep inside of me seems to wake from slumber.
Go to her. Make her happy. It’s your duty.
I slide from my bed, alarmed at the way my chest throbs and my bones rattle. The overwhelming need to comfort her and show to her that we’re not alone is pulsating through me. Slipping from my room, I quietly make it into hers as to not wake our aunt, who’s sleeping in the living room. I push into my sister’s room and close the door behind me.
“Rylie.”
Her name is barely whispered from my lips, but it’s powerful. It has the ability to turn her wails into whimpers. Her curses to God into prayers for me to hold her.
Purpose surges through my chest like never before.
Amy. Baseball. College.
Nothing has made me feel like I feel in this exact moment.
I lift the covers and she scoots over to give me room. Once I slide beneath the sheets, she claws desperately at me. Drawing her into my arms, I hug her to my bare chest. Her hair smells like lavender and it’s a soothing scent—so different from Amy’s expensive products I’m used to. I inhale my sister and run comforting circles with my fingertips along her back. Her tears soak my neck and chest, but they’re subsiding.
It’s up to me to heal her.
This is something I can do.
She settles and her breathing evens out. Pride thunders through me. I kiss her hair and hold her tight. In my arms, she doesn’t feel like my sister. She feels like a tiny piece of the Hale heart that’s left. My piece isn’t much bigger now that our parents are gone. But together, we can be something. We can survive and fucking thrive. I just know it.
Her body feels so frail. I don’t want her to break apart, so I hold her as close as I can, kissing her hair over and over again. We’re pushed together, our bodies touching where they’ve never before touched, and it feels right. I’ve been such a selfish prick keeping my sister at a distance. All along, we could have been gaining strength from each other. I could have felt some peace when my world felt so fucking pointless—all I had to do was hold her.
