Page 24 of When Sky Breaks
Johnny might be the safe solution, a means by which to reach my full potential. Someone who doesn’t know the scared little girl I used to be. I can become someone exciting and take more risks.
The idea sends bolts of uneasiness through my stomach. Aren’t the things that scare us supposed to strengthen us?
“I’m not too fond of riddles, darling, but I trust you know yourself and what’s best.”
Even I’m not sure what’s best anymore.
“Well, I better get back home. Foster might need me for something.”
“Yes, yes, go on, but promise me you’ll come back to visit?” Her face is hopeful.
“As if I could pass up a bookstore, Ginger. It was good to see you.”
I leave the store and jog to my car, praying August doesn’t see me. I might never talk to him again, but there is someone I need to work things out with.
* * *
The empty house allows me a few moments to think.
Trek took Foster out to pick up a few groceries to eat for the week, and I take this quiet time to stare in nervous anticipation at the unopened packages on my bed. Wrinkled from sitting in my closet for months, I press a hand to the soft packaging of one.
Am I a terrible person for not even once looking? No, absolutely not.
Trek tilted the world I thought I knew on its axis, and I needed to process the acute anger. It burrowed so deep it became a living, breathing entity, following me around like an awful curse.
Phoebe can attest to how I changed. How I moped, how I became a poster child for depression. It’s as if I was back in that house with my abusive father, cowering in the corner to avoid more punishment. May his soul rest in eternal hell for the pain he put me through as a child.
I threw myself into school, head down to keep my grades up despite my hurting heart. I immersed myself in work, into helping kids because I was once a kid who needed help but never really got it. I dated around because there was still that empty part of me that craved love, craved a closeness I only felt with one other person.
But here I sit, ready to move forward, yearning for peace as I rip into the first package from Trek.
A bag of Sour Patch Kids, my favorite candy. A book from the serial killer series I love. He even wrote a note in the cover.
S-
Not sure giving you this manual on how to murder me in my sleep is a good idea, but you love them, and I love you, sis, so here you go. Please forgive me.
-Trek
A tiny smile graces my lips as I run my fingers over the sleek cover. He’s so silly.
On and on, I open bags of my favorite things, small things I publicly adored because I was never allowed them as a child.
The last bag is the one that burst the dam of tears I’ve held back. More glow-in-the-dark stars for my ceiling. He knew those meant everything to me. At night, I knew I was never alone when I looked up at those stars, the ones he and Foster put up when I first moved in here. Even now, I lay and stare at them, feeling the tears roll down my face and onto the comforter under me.
Trek could’ve given up, written me off, tossed me to the side because I ignored him so much, but he tried.
What matters is he tried.
Nothing will ever change what he did. Nothing will bring back Chase. Holding onto this anger won’t raise my sweet baby brother from the grave. I’m honoring his little life by pushing away those who care, and it’s killing me. Chase wouldn’t want that.
The door to the house shuts, and I jackknife, wiping at my face. Their voices float through the walls, and I hear Foster say he’s going to lie down before dinner. The cancer affects him physically, and the once virile man has slowed down. I ache for him and the fact I can’t change what’s happening to his body.
“Trek,” I say, peeking my head from my room, spying him shutting Foster’s bedroom door, “You got time to talk?”
He spins and sees my obviously puffy face, concern floating in his eyes. “You all right?”
“I will be. Come on, let’s go out back.”