16. age sixteen
age sixteen
The week before Christmas, the Preston family imploded in spectacular fashion.
We had always lived with tension and violence and Dad’s inescapable anger, but this was different.
There was the usual screaming and crying, cursing and begging.
Only for the first time, Nat was at the center of it all.
It was her screaming that surrounded me. Her begging me to do something.
As my life unraveled, I stood paralyzed, desperate for an undo button.
I wanted to go back to two days earlier.
No, I needed to go back. I had to somehow reverse time, un-trust Atlas with the single greatest secret I never should have shared.
Once I knew how to do that, my life would return to the way it was.
I’d have the world’s best, most adoring boyfriend.
I’d have the semblance of a picture-perfect life, at least from the outside.
Most importantly, I’d have my sister at my side, rather than across enemy lines.
That was how she was looking at me now. Like I was an enemy, and maybe she was right. I hadn’t meant to betray her, honestly. I thought…well, I guessed it didn’t matter what I thought. I had put my trust in the wrong person, and much as I hated to admit it, Nat had too.
“Tell them, Violet!” She stood at the opposite end of the table, leaned against its wooden surface. She bared her teeth at me like she was a wild animal, and for the first time, I couldn’t ignore how much she’d changed.
It must have happened slowly, because it felt like I missed it.
Now though, I hardly recognized my sister in the woman across from me.
Nineteen years old, and thinner than she’d been in middle school.
Her skin had somehow aged a decade. Her eyes looked haunted, like they contained every terrible secret in the universe.
“I didn’t tell them anything!” I sobbed. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. Because I was the only person Nat had confided in, and while I hadn’t told my parents, if they’d found out, it was because of me. “I promise. I didn’t—I wouldn’t—”
“Go to your fucking room, Violet!” Dad screamed. He was drunk, which wasn’t abnormal. Neither was the cursing. But it was rare for his hands to land on me. For him to physically drag me away from the kitchen, from the crime scene.
That was how it looked. A whole collection of strange items, spread out like they were being processed at a police station. Was that what was going to happen next? Were Mom and Dad going to take the little baggies to the police? Were they going to turn Nat in and get her arrested?
Mom would never let that happen. I was sure of it. And yet, she’d been standing at the table too. Arms crossed and face streaked with tears as Nat and I walked through the door.
“Tell them they’re not mine!” Nat screamed as Dad dragged me up the stairs and out of sight. Once we hit the hallway, he slammed me against the wall, and my head smacked against one of our hanging family portraits.
Anyone who saw these pictures would never believe what happened in our house. I wanted to check if my head was bleeding, but I knew better. If I wanted to get out unscathed, it was best to do what he wanted. So I cowered in front of him, like the sad, pathetic thing I was.
“You knew?” he screamed. “You fucking know what she was doing, Violet?”
I was sobbing too hard to manage words. Incoherent rambling bubbled from me, but I didn’t tell him what he already suspected. I didn’t admit that I did know about the drugs. I didn’t admit that I’d known for a year, and that I’d kept quiet, foolishly believing Nat would get better.
She promised she was getting better so many times. It was stupid to believe her, but it was stupider to trust Atlas. I should have kept my fucking mouth shut. If I had, none of this would be happening. I could have found a way to help Nat without ruining everything.
Undo, undo, undo. The word circled uselessly through my mind, even as Dad shook my shoulders. I didn’t hear anything else he was saying, and eventually, he got tired of waiting.
“Don’t even think of coming out until I tell you.” He yanked me from the wall and shoved me into my bedroom. I stumbled onto my knees, and rather than get up, I curled into a ball on the floor. The door slammed shut, and I closed my eyes, crying until there were no tears left.
I kept hoping I’d get the nerve to stand up, to go downstairs and at least be at Nat’s side while she faced this. A good sister would. Instead, I was a child on my floor, flinching every time Dad’s voice raised.
He’d taken my phone, but it didn’t matter.
There wasn’t anyone to call. Until we’d walked through the door, until I’d seen those little baggies out on display, like a museum of Nat’s personal shame, I never imagined this would be my reality.
Since I was a kid, I’d always had someone to run to, whether it was Nat or Atlas.
Now, I was horridly alone, and I had no one to blame but myself.
Hours later, when I snuck from my room to use the bathroom, I saw Nat in the living room. She was on the couch, facing me, facing our parents. Foolishly, I lifted a little ‘o’ to my temple, our signal, asking if she was okay.
Her eyes shifted to me, so vacant I barely recognized them. She didn’t signal back, and that was the last time I ever saw her.