Redemption

I'LL DIE TRYING

I'm fully aware of the blood I leave behind every time I smack the wood, but with every second I wait for someone to answer, the more I slip out of consciousness, and I'm not sure how intense the gash on my forehead is, but I can feel the sticky warmth trickling down my face.

I'm not oblivious to the lights flicking on in the surrounding houses. They probably think I'm trying to break in, but as soon as someone steps onto their front porch to investigate, the door opens.

My eyes flicker up to watch my brother's face. The expression morphs several times before falling and becoming completely unreadable. Each look tells a different story. Like how sorry he is for leaving me, but how thankful he is that we're together again. He's also looking behind me, probably wondering how I got here, but he's embracing me because it doesn't matter as long as I'm wherever he is.

I've waited years to see his face again, and now that I have, I wish it were under different circumstances. Perhaps in a different lifetime, we didn't talk about the terrors of hell house. He wouldn't see me close to passing out on his doorstep, and I wouldn't have to see the regret on his face from leaving me all those years ago.

But life didn't turn out quite how we planned. So, I'll give it what I've got while I've got it. I'll fight to stay alive as I always have, or I'll die trying. Either way, I didn't come this far to come this far. I owe it to myself to chase whatever stopped me from taking my life whenever dad's abuse became too much.

"I missed you," he murmured as he stepped onto the porch.

When his arms wrapped around me the pain wrapped its fingers around my throat, its grip tightening until every breath of air disappeared from my lungs. Just as quickly as he pulled me into an embrace, he stepped away with equal parts of shock and confusion on his face.

"Sully? Talk to me, please."

My fingers grazed the base of my ribs. "I think they're broken."

"Okay," panic colored his features. "Let me get my keys – "

I followed him into the house, immediately finding a red-headed girl sitting at their kitchen island. She stared in horror as she smacked a hand over her mouth. Fletcher turned to look at me, and as he scanned every inch of my face, I knew he saw what I felt – blood. I tried so desperately to wipe it away, but I realized it'd been all over my white shirt. It didn't matter anyway. Whatever damage dad did was enough to keep me bleeding during my twenty-minute drive.

"I need to get her to a hospital – "

"No," my hands trembled. "They'll ask questions. You know that."

"People need to know what he's done!" Fletcher's voice started to rise. "This isn't okay, Sawyer!"

"Fletcher," the red-headed girl settled a hand on her shoulder. "Go get my first aid kit. We've got this. We'll take care of her."

My brother glanced at me one last time before disappearing up the stairs behind me. I turned to the girl as she motioned for me to sit. I didn't hesitate to collapse onto the chair, but just as the weight eased off my body, the pain flared up.

"I'm Joey," she approached me with a wet rag in her hand. "I'm gonna help you, okay? It won't hurt. I'll be gentle."

She brushed the hair away from my face as I nodded, and a smile grew on her pale face. "When Fletcher told me his sister would be staying with us, I realized manifestation probably works. How am I supposed to survive as the only female in a house full of boys? It would be impossible!"

She must've read my confusion because she didn't hesitate to carry on. "Oh, shit. I forgot. Winston and Carter live here too! They met their freshman year."

It'd been no secret my brother was an undeniable talent. He's a notorious point guard, and that'd take him wherever he wanted to go. Even if it meant he'd leave me behind. I didn't blame him for making something of himself or at least trying to. He proved to me cycles are meant to be broken.

I knew he couldn't take me with him either. I'd been baggage. The kind he couldn't snatch and run with. Sometimes you have to take care of yourself. As painful as it is to leave a sibling behind – your happiness and life is just as important. You're never wrong for protecting that. That's why I never blamed Fletcher. For the longest time I didn't understand, but I do now.

"What do I do?"

I watched my brother frantically search for the first aid kit as he joined us in the kitchen again.

"Grab the pain meds from the cabinet and a glass of water," Joey's voice remained calm. "We'll start there, okay?"

"I can do this," I breathed out as she continued brushing over my face with the dampened cloth.

"I know you can, but it's time someone helps you for once," she began sifting through her first aid kit. "Fletch said you're having pain in your ribs. Mind if I check them out?"

"She's a nurse," my brother murmurs as he pulls out a seat beside me. "You can trust her, Sully."

I leaned back into the chair, feeling the cold air hit my torso as I dragged my t-shirt up. The tips of Joey's fingers prodded around the damaged area, drawing sharp breaths from my lips. I could tell by the look on her face before she gave me an answer.

"Well, there's nothing a doctor can do for you," she pulled away. "They're definitely bruised. Possibly broken, but not bad enough, so let's get you wrapped up."

"What does that mean?"

"Light movement, no heavy lifting, and be careful when you're bending down or turning your body."

I tried not to whimper every time she circled the ace bandage around my torso. She kept it tight enough to secure my ribs, but not tight enough to hurt me anymore than I already was.

"How about you go lay down and rest?" Fletcher rested his hand on the back of Joey's chair. "I'll call you down when dinner's here, okay?"

"Dinner?"

"We order out more than we should," Joey scrunched up her nose, pulling away after securing the Velcro. "I like pizza. A lot."

"Okay."

"I made your bed for you," she rested her hand on my knee. "Your room is upstairs, last door on the right."

My room? I wanted to question her. I wanted to know what that meant, but instead of asking, I followed her directions. I climbed the staircase, and I listened to it creak with every step until I found a well-lit room. Light brown see-through curtains hung from the floor-to-ceiling windows. A large bed, pressed to the wall had been made. The dark pink comforter, fluffy, and large looked soft, but I couldn't bring my fingers to pull away from the golden door knob.

I never had one of these before. A bed. Or a room to say the least. I slept on a couch with nowhere to hide when dad came lurking. The more I stared at the space before me, the more I questioned what I'm to do. When I slowly crossed the threshold, my hand reached out, slowly brushing the cotton material of the comforter.

With one touch I'm falling back onto what Joey called 'my bed.' I ignored the pain flaring in my sides and sighed at the relief of feeling weightless. The material swallowed me, comforting me, and that's when every piece of my body began to ache. That's when everything started to blur. I tried to fight the sleep as it came, but sometimes fighting isn't worth it. Giving in is just easier. For once, I didn't have to protect myself. For the first time, I didn't have to fight.

I surrendered.