Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Star was still sitting on the couch, her empty plate thrown onto the coffee table. She slid down the arm of it, pressing her back into the cushion, and covered her ears with her palms. “I’m not listening to you right now. You’re being irrational. I can’t even hear you over the pounding in my head.”
She was going to be the death of me. I just knew it. Mom and Dad had her simply to spite me and give me an early grave from nothing but anxiety. “I want you to share your location with me at all times.”
“What? No! I’m a grown-ass fucking woman!”
“Oh, yeah? So grown up that you can’t handle your liquor and somehow go out with some of the lousiest friends you possibly could’ve?”
“Fuck you! They aren’t lousy.”
“They left you, Star! They left you when you needed them the most!”
“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I’ll go to Crescent and Elio’s house. Maybe they will treat me better than this.” She stood from the couch, swaying on her feet when she’d done it far too fast. “See if I ever call you for help again.”
I sighed into my hands as I rubbed them over my face, seriously exhausted by how much fighting we’d done. She checked her pockets, pulled out her phone, and marched straight to the front door. I followed after her, holding my hand out. “Star, wait. I just want to protect you.”
She turned on her heels, staring up at me, though it felt more like she was staring down with how angry she was. “Protect me, or suffocate me into a little bubble where you can control everything I say and do?”
I stood, stunned, for a moment. A moment too long. A moment I’d never once dreamed of happening in my life. I stood there, frozen, as my little baby sister threw my front door open and slammed it shut behind her.
Everything was so dark, still. I’d tried my best to accommodate the raging headache I knew she had by pulling all the blinds shut and turning the lights off. I’d even turned the air conditioning off so that the added noise couldn’t bother her. But then I’d yelled at her. Multiple times.
I thought back to everything Emerson had said before he left. Before everything went to shit, and I was stuck handling the aftermath alone. I scoffed at the memory. What nerve did he have to tell me how to handle my own sister?
Sure, it sounded like he understood and knew what he was talking about, but that didn’t mean he understood our dynamic specifically.
There were so many memories tied to my fears for her, and he just couldn’t grasp the intensity and reality of them.
Not that he ever would, anyway, because I was fucking done with him.
Nope. No way was I letting him back in like that.
The second he saw deeper into my soul than I’d meant for him to, I should’ve done something, or said something, to get him to back off.
I shouldn’t have let him keep going for as long as he did.
I shouldn’t have looked him right in the eyes so he could see all the pain and turmoil trapped just beneath them, but I did.
I had let Emerson see pieces of me that no one else had ever seen, for the second time since meeting him. What were the fucking odds?
I didn’t bother turning the lights back on or opening the blinds to let any sunlight in.
I wallowed in the darkness, finding solace in it.
There, I could keep to the shadows that threatened to swallow me whole.
They were friends of mine and enemies of Crescent.
The Miller family really knew their way around the dark and all the creatures within it, I guess.
I’d failed my sister. Truly, I had failed her by trying to do the opposite of that.
I had failed her by being too much and apparently not explaining the importance of safety to her from a much younger age.
I had overlooked it, thinking she would be smart and safe simply because she was my sister, and she was intelligent and educated.
I overlooked her, just as our parents had overlooked me—just as everyone had overlooked me.
I’d tried so hard not to be seen that I’d become completely invisible to everyone around me.
There were so many chains with locks surrounding my mind, body, and soul.
No one seemed to have the key I so desperately needed to escape the cage I was locked inside.
There was a boy just beneath my surface who was crying out and waiting for someone to take him away from all the horrors life had subjected him to, but all anyone saw was the man he’d inadvertently turned into.
Years of terror loomed over me like a rain cloud, following me all the way to the bathroom.
I closed the door behind me, despite being alone in the apartment.
I rolled my sleeves up, staring at the maroon shade in the mirror in front of me.
It wasn’t quite dark enough to match the shade of blood that’d splattered beneath me six months ago, but it was close.
I trailed my finger over the material, feeling the dry texture, whilst thinking about how sticky and clumpy the blood was that night.
There was enough to seep beneath my skin, into my veins, and straight into my DNA, changing it forever.
I’d torn two souls out of the living realm and dragged them into the depths of Hell.
Peeling my shirt off, I threw it to the floor and turned my head slightly, staring into the mirror. I carried Jude’s mark with me everywhere I went. Just three deep, jagged scars on the side of my neck where he’d been gripping for dear life, trying to take me with him.
I carried Jude’s mark, where Sarah never got to give me one.
Another unfair call to justice, justifiable by the ethical, moral gray of the courts.
As I stood in place, frozen in a time that didn’t exist anymore, I realized I had failed again.
I had failed my brothers by letting it get to me so much.
I’d failed my sister by not doing enough.
I’d failed the world by not killing those bastards sooner.
I’d failed teenage me by letting myself get into that fucking mess all those years ago.
I’d failed. Over and over, I’d failed. I’d walked in another man’s blood, let it mix with mine, and allowed it the ability to ruin me.
If I had to wear Jude’s reminder, it was only fair and justifiable that I wear Sarah’s, too.
My back slid against the wall as I fell down to the floor, right next to my shirt and pants I’d taken off. In one hand, I gripped a new blade, pristine and unused—perfect and pure. In the other, I held a full roll of toilet paper, just in case.
The top of my thighs was still covered in scabs and older, healing scars from past inflictions.
One of the fresher wounds had started to bleed earlier when Emerson had knocked on the door, forcing me to think quickly.
The small ones always bled the most, taking far longer to stop than the others.
I was running out of room at this point.
Just below the tops of my thighs, I had all of my gorgeous, precious artwork I’d spent years and thousands of dollars getting tattooed into my skin. I refused to cut over them so far, wanting to preserve the happiness inked into them.
I had almost an entire square of space between my slowly healing wounds and where my tattoos began, so it was always a game and gamble of where I could start, and when I’d have to end.
There was some space just beside the scab that’d bled earlier, perfect for me to ruin.
If I bled for her—for them—would it absolve my soul of any staining?
My hand, ready with the blade, hovered over the spot hesitantly.
I waited a moment, not sure if I was ready.
When I was a teenager, it’d been easier, somehow.
There was so much hatred and shame inside of me that I desperately needed to let out, and this had been the only way I knew how to do it.
Now, years after I thought I’d broken the habit, I was back on the bathroom floor, considering just how deep I could go.
How far could I slice before I’d need to call someone?
How much could I handle by myself, and how much was too much to deal with?
How deep of a cut would it take to use the entire roll of toilet paper beside me, and would I even survive it?
Back then, I didn’t think I had too much to live for. Being a big brother wasn’t enough to deter me from thinking about how easy it would’ve been to end my life. It was now, though. That, and the fear of joining my victims in hell.
I jolted when my phone dinged, the sound echoing through the small bathroom, bouncing off the walls and back to me.
I looked at the blade in my hand, just barely hovering over my thigh, then looked at my phone.
There was a choice to make. Ignore it for my selfishness so I could pretend nothing else existed around me, or give in to curiosity.
I made the choice, picking it up and reading the text message.
Elio
Dude, Star is a mess. What happened?
My head fell back against the wall behind me, making a satisfying thunk noise. Of course, she was. I’d yelled at her, and from her point of view, nothing I said made any sense. She didn’t understand, nor would she ever, because I’d never tell her.
Me
Just want her safe. That’s all.
Elio
I get it. She seems really hungover so we’re going to let her sleep it off in the spare bedroom. She might benefit from an apology tho.
Me
I won’t apologize for trying to correct her outrageous, dangerous behavior.
Elio
Outrageous is a bit far no? She’s still young bro. We’ve all made shitty decisions and had to learn from them.
What couldn’t they understand about the situation? Why was everyone so against me?
Me
Like when I found you guys in that no trespassers field, drunk out of your minds when you were, what, sixteen?
Elio
Yes exactly. If we’d gotten caught we would’ve had to learn.
Me
I protected you guys from getting caught, though. You didn’t learn shit.
Elio