Page 5 of Hey, Stepbro

"Why didn't she?"

"Addiction is a monster that's hard to beat. And your mother was fighting it for a long time. But sometimes, even the strongest of us fall down."

I nod, the tears still streaming down my face. "I wish she had told me. Maybe I could have helped her."

Dad puts his arm around me, offering me comfort. "She didn't want you to worry. She loved you more than anything else in the world. And she knew that you had your own life to live."

I lean into him, the weight of my grief and guilt consuming me. "I should have known. I should have done something."

Dad hugs me tighter. "You couldn't have known. You were only a kid. And even if you did, it wouldn't have changed anything. Your mother made her own choices, and she knew the risks."

I remember a bottle of pills on her nightstand next to a glass of vodka. I thought it was water; I believed her when she told me she was taking her nightly medication.

As I gaze at my mother again, I still remember the name of the medication manufacturer.

Nightingale Pharmaceuticals.

They're a huge conglomerate with more money than they know what to do with. They've been sued countless times for questionable business practices and the harmful side effects of their drugs.

A sudden rage builds up inside of me. How many people have they hurt? How many lives have they destroyed? And how many more will they continue to harm?

I wipe away my tears and stand up, my mind made up. "Dad, I need to do something. I need to make them pay."

Dad looks at me with concern. "What do you mean?"

"I want to go after Nightingale Pharmaceuticals. I'm going to expose them for what they really are, and make sure that no one else has to suffer through what Mom went through."

"We don't know for sure what she was taking. Yes, she was hooked on pills—but she may have combined them with illicit street drugs. Only the autopsy will let us know."

I shake Dad's hands off me and wrap my arms around Mom. "I love you, Mom."

Tears blur my vision, and I stay with Mom for God knows how long. The doctors come back and ask me to leave, but I don't listen.

I pull out the teddy bear she gave me for my eighth birthday and slide it under her chin. It doesn’t matter that I’m sixteen and still keep a stuffy. It’s a gift from my mother, goddamnit. "This is for you. Thank you for being there for me. Teddy will keep you safe."

My father hugs me. "You're a brave, brave boy. Your mother is smiling down on you from Heaven and thanking you for caring for her."

I pull away from my father, a newfound determination rising within me. "I'm not a boy anymore, Dad. I'm a man. And I won't let Nightingale Pharmaceuticals get away with what they've done."

Dad nods, his eyes filled with pride. "I know you'll do what's right. Your mother would be proud of you."

With that, I leave the hospital room, my mind already racing with ideas. I don't care what the autopsy says—Isawthat pill bottle on Mom's bedside table, and I know Nightingale Pharmaceuticals is responsible for her death. I won't let them get away with it. Not for my mother, not for anyone else who has suffered at their hands.

It'll be a long and difficult fight. I may have to work until I'm dead. But I know that I'm up for the challenge.

As I walk out of the hospital, I look up at the sky. "I'll do this for you, Mom," I whisper. "I'll make sure that your death wasn't in vain."

And with that, I follow Dad into his car, unsure of how to avenge my mother's passing but damn certain that I'll figure it out.

Present day

A baby Dachshund leaps into my arms, then licks my face. I tug her away, then set her beside her brothers, who’ve managed to break into the treat box which I thought Stella tucked away.

"Stella," I groan, trying in vain to salvage as many treats as I can. "You’re in so much trouble."

"I put the treats back on the shelf," Stella protests, scooping up a few half-eaten bones. "I swear."

"Obviously not."

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