The Quiet Between

Chapter Seventeen Sloane

Chapter Seventeen

Sloane

Icouldn’t find Xander all day, and I was starting to worry.

It was getting late, and Father and Mother would be home soon. If they found out he wasn’t here, they’d be furious, and Xander would be paying for it. It was a school night; he was supposed to be home studying. His grades were already slipping.

I waited for him in the living room, my foot tapping against the floor anxiously.

Ten minutes passed.

Then twenty.

Thirty.

An hour.

Cold sweat prickled my skin.

And then I heard it—the sound of a bicycle rolling through the gate and into the garage. A second later, it clattered to the ground, and footsteps pounded toward the front door. I opened it just as Xander burst through.

“Where have you been?” I snapped. “Hurry, go change before they get home.”

He didn’t answer, just ran straight to his room. I locked the door behind him and followed.

By the time I stepped into his room, he was already in the bathroom changing. A minute later, I heard the hum of our parents’ car pulling into the driveway, the tires crunching against the gravel.

“Where were you?” I asked again, this time in a lower tone. “I was worried sick.”

“Around,” he muttered, grabbing his bag and rifling through it before sitting down at his desk. “You better not be here, Sloane. He’s going to come in any second.”

“I’ll just say I’m here to study,” I said. I didn’t want him to face Father alone. I wanted to be here for him.

He looked at me and gave a slight nod. Then he tossed a book onto the bed. I picked it up, sat down, and opened it, pretending to read.

A few minutes later, Father opened the door and stepped inside. His voice was clipped. “Have you been studying?”

Then he saw me. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to look at something in his book,” I replied.

Father gave a sharp nod. “See, Xander? You need to learn from Sloane. She’s a year below you and already wants to study what you’re learning.”

Damn it. That wasn’t the point.

I glanced at Xander. His head stayed down, eyes on the page. He didn’t say a word.

“Study hard,” Father said before leaving. “I want those grades perfect by the time you graduate.”

I kept my eyes on Xander. We both knew it wasn’t possible—not with only a couple of months left. But Father never asked what was realistic. He just expected it. Even if Xander got straight As on every final test, it wouldn’t be enough to fix his grades.

When Father finally left, I turned to him.

“Hang in there, Xander. Be strong.”

He didn’t move. His head was still bowed, shoulders tight with tension.

“Xander...” I said softly.

He lifted his head and let out a long, heavy sigh. Then he walked over and sat beside me on the bed.

“I can’t do this anymore, Sloane,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I have it in me.”

I reached for his wrist and held it tightly. “You can. We’ll get through this together. He’s been hard on me, too.”

“But he’s never hit you,” Xander said, his voice flat with resignation.

“Maybe because I’m a girl,” I answered. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t lash out.”

Father never laid a hand on me, but his words hit just as hard.

Xander shook his head slowly. “I’m tired, Sloane. This is never going to end. I can’t picture living like this for years. What about college? What if I don’t get into med school? What if I can’t be a surgeon like him? What if I’m just not good enough?”

“Then we’ll try our best,” I said gently. “You and I, we’ll get through it together.”

He looked at me, eyes hollow. “I need to get out of here, Sloane.”

A chill ran through me. My grip on his wrist tightened.

“You can’t leave me, Xander. I can’t do this alone.”

He stayed quiet, eyes fixed on his clasped hands.

“If you go,” I said shakily, “take me with you.” I meant it. I wasn’t going to be left behind in this.

He looked at me then. “You need to finish high school first.”

“That’s a year away, Xan,” I said, a shiver crawling down my spine at the thought. “It’s too long.”

Xander shook his head. “But this isn’t living, Sloane. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t take the beatings anymore. Or the way he talks to me like I’m worthless. Like I’m fucking stupid.” His voice cracked. “I’m tired. I need to get out.”

“Xander...” I whispered, trying to catch his eyes, but he wouldn’t look at me. “You’re scaring me.”

He let out another sigh, a long, weary one. “Go back to your room, Sloane. If you stay too long, he’ll get suspicious. Just go study.”

I knew he was right, but I couldn’t move. I was afraid to leave him.

He saw my hesitation and gave me a small, fractured smile.

“You know I love you, right?”

I nodded quickly, eyes burning. “I love you too.”

We never said it out loud.

We were raised to keep our feelings tucked away, taught that showing them was a sign of weakness. That had been true for as long as I could remember.

But I loved my brother. And he loved me. We knew it without saying a word, carried it in silence, in the way we showed up for each other again and again.

And this time, he said it.

For the first time.

He said it.

We both said it.

At that time, I didn’t know if that was a good thing... or a terrible one.

“I’m so grateful to have a sister like you,” he said quietly. “But you’re meant for something better, Sloane. You have a future without me holding you back.”

I shook my head hard. “No. You never dragged me down. You’re the one who’s kept me standing, Xander. I can’t do this without you, and all this sudden soft talk is seriously freaking me out.”

He gave a quiet laugh, but it didn’t sound right. “Yeah, I know.” He motioned to the door. “Go read a book or something.”

I was still unsure, but he looked like he needed to be alone. So I stood and said, “Don’t leave me, Xander. I mean it. Don’t you ever leave me.”

I waited for his response, but he said nothing. He just walked back to his desk and sat down.

“Please,” I whispered.

Still, nothing.

With my shoulders heavy, I turned and walked to the door.

My eyes snapped open, and I struggled to draw in breath.

Tears fell in torrents, thick and unrelenting, stealing the breath from my lungs.

Memories surged through me like waves in a storm—sharp, vivid, merciless—though I was wide awake.

Every moment replayed in sharp detail, moments I’d fought so hard to bury now breaking through my defenses.

My mind had reached its breaking point; it could no longer hold them back.

Xander’s bruised face appeared as if he stood right before me, playing behind my closed eyelids like a haunting film. I lay frozen on the bed, trapped and powerless, forced to relive everything whether I wanted to or not.

I watched Xander deteriorate right before my eyes.

I saw how broken he was, how he had slowly given up.

He was resigned to a fate where escape felt impossible.

Every day, I watched him shrink into himself, curling inward even as he kept moving forward.

He spoke less. He ate less. He moved less.

And my parents saw it too, surely, but they turned away.

Xander didn’t even argue anymore. He stayed silent when Father demanded to know if he’d improved his grades. Father knew the demand was impossible, but he kept pressing just to break him down.

It was two days before the final report card was due, and nothing anyone could do would alter what was to come.

Xander got two Bs on his final tests, which pulled his overall grades down even further.

But how could that possibly be awful? His grades were still higher than most students’.

I tried to talk to him, but he just gave me a faint smile and said nothing.

I knew he was anxious, counting down the days. I couldn’t begin to imagine what that felt like—knowing exactly what was coming. I was certain Father knew it too, and that was why he kept punishing Xander.

Mother should’ve said something. Done something. She should’ve protected her own son.

But she was too afraid of Father, too weak to stand up to him. Her own survival mattered more than ours.

That night, my parents weren’t home yet, still at the hospital, coming home late as usual.

Xander was in his room, and I was in mine.

I sat on the edge of my bed, tense, straining to hear any sound from his side of the wall. But there was nothing.

It had been that way since he got back from school an hour ago.

He’d gone missing again, and when I finally saw him, the way he looked terrified me to the core.

It was as if there was no life left in his eyes, no blood beneath his skin.

He was still here, feet on the ground, moving, but he’d thoroughly checked out of this world.

His mind wasn’t with him anymore. It had gone somewhere else, somewhere I couldn’t reach.

I was so fucking terrified.

I couldn’t take it anymore. The silence, the waiting—it was too much.

I jumped off my bed, ran out of my room, and burst into his.

And what I saw stopped me cold.

I froze in the doorway, eyes wide, breath caught somewhere between my lungs and throat.

He was lying on the floor beside his bed, unnaturally still. An open bottle of pills rested near his hand.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.

My mind screamed at me to do something, anything, but my body wouldn’t respond.

Xander wasn’t asleep. He wasn’t resting.

Something was very, very wrong.

I forced myself to move.

My legs were shaking as I stumbled toward him. I dropped to my knees beside his body, my hands hovering over him, too afraid to touch. But when I finally did, his skin was cold—not freezing, but wrong.

“Xander,” I whispered, then louder, “Xander!”

No response.

I grabbed his shoulders and shook him, gentle at first, then harder. “Wake up. Please, please wake up.”

His eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. His breathing was shallow, barely there. His lips had a faint blue tinge.

Panic clawed at my throat. I ran to the living room to reach the house phone with trembling hands and called emergency services, barely able to get the words out.

“My brother—he’s—he took something. Pills. He’s not waking up. Please, please hurry.”

They were saying something to me, but I didn’t catch what. I was already running back to Xander.

I dropped beside him, whispering his name like it could pull him back.

“Please don’t leave me, Xander. I told you not to leave me.”

He didn’t answer.

“I love you, Xander. You’re my brother. You’re all I have in this world. Please... don’t do this to me.”

I was panicking—no response, nothing.

Then, suddenly, I heard it: a faint whisper.

“Yeah... love you too, sis.”

He barely breathed it out, but it was enough to keep me holding on.

“I’m here, Xan,” I whispered, my voice shaking as tears streamed down my cheeks. “Stay with me. Please.”

He tried to speak again, but it came out weak, a rasp barely audible. Then he slipped back into unconsciousness.

My fear and anxiety started to overwhelm me.

What if the ambulance was stuck somewhere? What if they never came?

It had been almost ten minutes, and they hadn’t arrived yet.

My breath hitched, and panic tightened its grip around my chest.

I had to do something.

I stood and reached down for his hands.

Then I dragged him, pulled him across the floor, pouring every ounce of energy I had into it, adrenaline flooding through me.

I dragged him through the living room and out the front door.

I left him there, then ran to the garage.

Mother’s car was parked inside.

I didn’t have my driver’s license yet, but Xander had taught me to drive a few times.

I believed I could do this.

It wasn’t until much later that it struck me: why hadn’t I called my parents for help?

It was like my mind refused to believe they would even care.

I punched in the PIN code to unlock the garage door, pushed it up, and grabbed the car keys from one of the drawers.

I climbed into the car and quickly started the engine. The gas tank was half full, enough to get to the hospital.

Without hesitation, I put the car in reverse and backed out.

Once clear, I jumped out and dragged Xander into the back seat.

I didn’t even check on him because I was too frantic to remember.

Later, I wondered where the strength had come from, how I managed to drag Xander, who was a head taller and heavier than I was.

But somehow, I managed to get him into the car and started driving.

I drove. I drove fast.

Adrenaline surged through me, my focus locked on one thing: getting him to the hospital.

Xander was silent in the back seat. I didn’t dare look back. I couldn’t.

I kept driving. And driving. And crying.

Then I saw it. The hospital building rose at the end of the street like a promise.

Relief hit me hard, flooding through my chest and spilling out in sobs.

I was crying so hard I couldn’t see straight, my eyes locked on the flashing sign that promised help.

I didn’t notice the car speeding in from the right until the last second.

In a desperate move, I slammed the gas and swerved left.

But the car slammed into the concrete barrier.

Then everything went still.

No movement. No sound.

Just... stillness.

CAMERON

My phone rang and rang, pulling me from a deep sleep.

I lifted my head to check if it had woken Harper, but she was still fast asleep.

Turning toward the nightstand, I grabbed my phone while it was still charging.

It was two a.m.

I thought it might be the hospital, but then I saw Sloane’s name on the screen.

I answered immediately, and a cold dread washed over me for reasons I couldn’t explain.

“Sloane?” I said into the phone. “What’s wrong?”

There was silence, but I could hear her breathing.

“Sloane? Talk to me. What’s wrong?” I asked again, anxiety tightening in my chest as I sat up in bed.

Then she spoke.

“Cam...” Her voice was barely there, followed by a long, shaky exhale. “I need help. I think I need help.”