I remember the first time I came home after the months in the hospital, all the surgeries and physical therapy. My parents moved my room to the main floor, to the guest room my grandparents use when they visit. All my things were in there. My stuffed animals and books, the poster of Brendon Urie taped to the wall, my pillows, and the soft comforter I’d missed so much while I was trapped in hell, and I burst into tears.
Not because I was happy to see it all.
I cried because all I wanted was to be back in my room, upstairs with Emory, like normal. All I wanted was normal. Being moved to the guest room was just another reminder that everything in my life had changed.
That day, I’d passed out on the couch, exhausted from the trip home. When I woke up, Emory had moved every single thing back upstairs, up to and including perfectly taping the Brendon Urie poster back in its exact place. My parents were furious. “She can’t even get up the stairs!” my mother had whisper-shouted.
Emory snapped back. “Then I’ll carry her!”
And he did. He carried me up and down those stairs, under my mother’s fretful eyes, until I could do it on my own.
I’ve seen normal siblings. I’ve seen them bicker, resentment sparking between them. I’ve seen them shun one another in the halls of Preston Prep. I’ve seen Heston putting Sebastian in that ring, even though he thought he’d lose. I’ve seen Georgia and George, who live in the same house and share the same genes—the same name—but you’d never know it, because they barely look at one another when they’re at school.
I think of normal siblings, and suddenly, “I don’t wish that.” He looks taken aback when he meets my eyes. “Because I know you love me, and I know you’d do anything if it meant keeping me happy and safe. I can’t… I can’t imagine not having that. I wouldn’t want to try.”
He blinks at me for a long moment. “Well… yeah, I guess that’s not so bad.”
I’m struck by the fact he won’t be here next year. It’ll be the first time in my life I won’t have him down the hall, always there, just in case. “I know you don’t need me to carry you up and down the stairs, or scare off mean girls, or throw you parties for silly milestones, but I would. You know that, right?”
“Sure, V.” He gives me a sad smile. “I know that.”
“Because I love you.” I add, “Even though you’re an idiot who doesn’t use your words.”
“You’re really buttering me up here.”
I stand, walking to the bed and flopping down beside him. He jostles at the motion, but doesn’t move. “I’m not asking your permission.” My voice is soft, but invites no argument. “It’s not yours to give. I just need you to know he makes me happy, and that I’m going to be okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much, Em.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t,” I argue. “And you want to know why? Because I kind of had the best brother ever. He taught me how to get through the hard things. He taught me what kind of people to not hang out with. He taught me how to drive. He taught me how to stand up to everyone but him.” I slant my eyes at him. “I learned that one on my own.”
“Yeah, and you suck at it.”
“I think I get by.”
“It was my idea to steal the car, you know.” It comes from out of nowhere, so much so that I almost feel whiplash from it, from the way his voice sounds, low and monotone. He’s staring up at the ceiling, face blank. “I don’t know if Reyn told you that.”
I stare at him. “He didn’t.”
“I’m not saying I had to twist his arm or anything,” he says, voice dry. “But we never would have done it if I hadn’t—”
I grab his wrist. “Hey, stop.”
“I’m not a good brother, V.” He rolls his head against the bed, gaze locking with mine. “All that shit you’re talking about—the party, carrying you, scaring people off? I wouldn’t have had to do any of that if I hadn’t...” It’s subtle, the way his voice breaks, but he quickly looks away. “I’m a shit brother.”
I look at the bruise on his jaw. It’s swollen and blotted with blue and purple. It looks painful every time he talks.