1. I’m a burden
1
I’M A BURDEN
HALLE
“You’re worthless.”
“No one cares about you.”
“You’re looking a little big there.”
The darkness of those words wraps around my mind, dragging me down. They play on a loop, making me feel insignificant. Like I don’t belong.
Because here’s the thing, mean words, they hurt. They don’t leave a physical mark, but they can take the longest to heal and sometimes, they won’t ever heal. They’ll always be there, threatening to consume you, to pull you back into the darkness.
“HALLE, are you going to get out of the car or what?”
Closing my eyes, I sigh. All I wanted was five more minutes to myself, to just breathe on my own before my older brother scrutinizes every move I make. The one who just yelled at me from his front door. The same one who abandoned me when I was a kid, leaving me to figure shit out for myself while he made a life of his own. He ran away and never looked back. My chest hurts thinking about those years without him. The loneliness was suffocating, not knowing how to do anything for myself, and being too afraid to ask for help, wondering what time mom would be home. But the constant fear lurking at the edges of my mind was the worst part. I never knew what mood I was going to get from him.
Unwanted feelings of abandonment and resentment suddenly threaten to overwhelm me. Shaking my head, I remind myself to only focus on right now before I spiral too far. And right now, he’s here, taking me in for the summer out of guilt. His little sister, who’s an emotional train wreck. Poor little me, who needs help getting my life back on track because I’m one big screw-up. Twenty-one, no job, no direction, angry at the world, and always trying to numb the pain.
I grab my bag and water bottle next to me, and glance at myself in the rearview mirror of my beat-up old Honda Civic. The dark circles under my eyes have deepened. My once-high cheekbones now look sunken, and my thick shoulder-length black hair desperately needs a wash. Honestly, I look like shit, but whatever. If life is hell, I might as well look the part.
That’s how it feels. Life. It feels like hell. I lost everything almost five years ago. I was sixteen, and in a single moment, everything was taken from me.
Mom wasn’t around much growing up; she worked a lot. Long hours that drove her to exhaustion. Even when she was sick she still kept on working, and when she got home to our shitty two-bedroom run-down house that had holes scattered around, leaking faucets, and mold on the bathroom ceiling, she kept on going. We didn’t have a lot and it showed but she worked hard to keep that roof over my head.
I learned at a young age to not be disappointed if she couldn’t be there for a school event or for boy troubles. I took what I could get and understood that she wasn’t there, not because she didn’t want to be, but because someone had to work to keep the bills paid. It’s not like Ray did anything to support us. He just sat on his couch, drinking his beer, and expecting everything to be done for him. So lazy and useless and mean all at once. I would hide out at friends’ houses because I never wanted to be under that roof without Mom there, and that only intensified when Hunter left me. The fear was harder to overcome, and then it happened. In one night, my life went from hard straight to hell, and everything got more screwed up all because he left.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if Hunter took me with him. Would Mom still be here? Would she have gotten better? Would I have gone to college? Would I be this bitter and angry at life? So many what ifs.
My steps feel heavy. The weight on my shoulders drags me down, but I have to see this through. Hunter is stepping up now and I’m really trying my hardest to see that as a good thing, to not feel like the burden that I know I am. Walking up the three steps to his front door, which is red—why his front door is red, I have no idea—I’m taken aback by just how peaceful this street feels.
All the houses here look similar—modest, single-level homes with their own little front porch—but small things make them stand out on their own, like this red door. The house to the left has a flower bed either side of their front steps and across the road has yellow trimmings around their windows and door. Hunter’s house seems alive, though. I can hear the music through the window that sits above the swing chair on the porch, and there’s shoes piled up outside here, with towels thrown over the porch railing.
It smells like fresh grass and sunscreen. Like popsicles and laughter on a hot day. God, I don’t know what I’m doing here.
The door swings open forcefully, and Hunter screams,“Halle, you better get your ass out of that car. I have shit to do!”
My hands go straight to my ears and I shrink back at how close he is to me, triggering almost. That feeling of fear comes rearing back, the unwanted anxiety starting to creep back in.
“Fucking hell, Hunter, look before you scream.”
I go to step around him, but he throws his arm around my shoulders, gives me a squeeze, and starts dragging me inside.
I pause, looking back at his front door. “Hey Hunter, why’s your door red? Like really red?”
He looks sideways at me and one side of his mouth tips up. Hunter looks like me if I weren’t so faded, so skinny and jaded. He has the short dark hair, cropped around the sides but a little long on top, and it’s messy like he just rolled out of bed. The high cheekbones and eyes are like mine, too. Blue, but so pale they’re almost gray in some light, with a crooked nose—unlike my straight one. I wonder if that’s from one too many bar fights since he owns the bar here in Sunlit Cove.
That’s where we are: Sunlit Cove. Home to stunning rock pools, creeks and waterfalls, where parks and the main street come alive in the summer. Everyone loves to come here. They swim in the freshwater, hang out at the waterfalls, throw barbecues in the parks during the day, and at night, they party. Hunter says it makes everyone feel young again, and reminds them of their childhood. Can’t say it’ll have that effect on me. My childhood was a giant mess. Hunter’s confident stance and easy smile have always drawn people in. It’s why I loved having him around when we were kids. Everything seemed brighter with him there.
He chuckles when he realizes I’m being serious about the door and says, “Oh, that’s a story for another day, lil sis. Let’s go out the back; there’re people I want you to meet.”
My anxiety, which I tried to tamp down before, comes rushing back, and I stop so suddenly that Hunter almost trips over.
“Hunter, you didn’t tell me people would be here. I can’t.” My heart starts racing and my eyes ping around frantically. “You can’t…” I deflate on the spot, my shoulders slumping.
“I’m not dressed right. I’m tired from a long drive. Can’t you just show me to my room? I’ll meet everyone tomorrow, I promise.”
He must take pity on me and how broken I look, how sad and nervous I must sound.
“Yeah, sis, no problem. Let me go grab your bags from the car. Your room is down that hall, first door on your left,” he says, pointing behind me.
Spinning around so quickly, I don’t even take in my surroundings. I beeline for the first door on the left. I need to breathe. My heart is racing faster, and I can hear my pulse in my ears. I need out.
Slamming the door closed and dropping my bag to the floor, I clutch my water bottle to my chest, close my eyes, and take the first deep breath I’ve been able to take since I pulled into Sunlit Cove.I can do this. I can turn my life around. I may be mad at Hunter, hold resentment, but I know deep down, he’s here to help me now. He’s still my older brother. I’ll do this for him, for Mom.
I take a look around. My room is small, but cozy. There’s a double bed in the center with two bedside tables on either side, and a double door closet on the far left wall. There isn’t much room to walk around, but I’ll make do. It’s a place to sleep, to forget. Taking a step forward, I hear a knock on the door. I turn around to open it, but Hunter pushes through with my two bags.
“Is this all you got, Halle?” he asks as he throws the bags onto my bed.
Looking over all my belongings, I nod. “Yeah, Hunter, it’s not like Mom had a lot and I had even less.” I know I sound bitter. We were broke, poor, but he’s been here living it up while I was left with nothing.
Hunter stares at me for a long moment, his jaw ticks and opens slightly, like he wants to say something about the whole situation. Sighing, he points out to the hallway. “The bathroom is straight across the hall there.”
He steps out and motions for me to follow. I peek around to the left as he points to the door next to the bathroom. “That’s the spare room. I have friends that are always crashing on random nights, so don’t be surprised if you hear other people around, okay?”
Looking over my shoulder at him, I roll my eyes. I know I freaked out before about meeting everyone, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely scared. I’m just too anxious for people right now.
He smiles at me and holds his hands up. “Well, okay, lil sis. Are you sure you don’t want to come out back? It’s only five and we don’t have to head to the bar for another hour.”
Oh my god, can he not take a hint?
“I really just want to be left alone, Hunter. I’m gonna go shower and pass out for the night. Don’t worry about me.” I say this with what I hope is a reassuring smile so he doesn’t push the situation.
“Alright then. Towels are on the shelf in the bathroom. I won’t be back until early hours of the morning. I’m on the closing shift and will probably sleep in till late morning.” He smiles big at me and continues jokingly. “Your big bro needs his beauty sleep, after all.” He moves to close the door, and it clicks softly.
“Beauty sleep my ass, Hunter,” I whisper.
He yells back, “I heard that!”
The silence I feel now he’s gone is welcoming. I run over to the bag I dropped when I first entered and open it. With shaky hands, I rummage through it.
Come on, come on, where are they?
My hand closes over the small orange bottle and I pull it out of my bag. I told myself I would stop taking these when I got here, but one more night won’t hurt… Will it?
Unscrewing the lid, I throw back two pills, washing them down with my water. I fall to the bed and breathe a heavy sigh. It’ll be okay, I tell myself. I’ll get through this. I’ll help Hunter out where I can to pay my way, but I’ll stay invisible to his friends and the people around town. It’s what I do best, stay invisible. I’m a waste of space anyway, and the sooner Hunter thinks I’m okay again and that we’ve rebuilt our lost relationship, he’ll be able to let me go and stop feeling guilty for leaving me all those years ago. Then I won’t feel like I’m imposing anymore.
My eyes start feeling heavy. This is my favorite part, where my awareness of everything starts fading away. The urge to sleep overpowers the negative thoughts that course through my head, and the calmness settles into my bones and mind.
I hear the bang of the door, the shuffling of feet next. I can’t quite tell how conscious I am, or how much is my mind playing tricks on me, but his deep raspy voice breaks through the fog .
“What, she couldn’t even come out and meet us? Introduce herself and say hi?”
He sounds angry. Why is he so angry?
“Dude, would you just leave it be? She’s gone through enough. I’m going to give her a second chance, okay? Help her get back on her feet. And mind your tone. She’s on the other side of that door and could hear you.” Hunter. That’s who says that.
I start to drift further before that angry voice comes back.
“Just be careful, man. You’ve also been through enough and don’t need to go back there. Help her but don’t let her walk all over you.”
Well, fuck you, Mr. Angry Voice, you don’t know shit about me. Before I can overthink those words, the last bit of my consciousness floats away and I drift back into my happy place. The void, where I can’t feel anything. Where the pain is numb and the darkness makes sense to me.
Tomorrow, I’ll make more of an effort… Tomorrow.