Scavenger

1. Still

The blinding light hit my eyes as my hands tightened around the wheel on top of her own. I heard the crack of her knuckles underneath my fingers. She shrieked, throwing her arm out in front of me.

"Cover your head!" she screeched. I didn't have time to scream her name before the glass shattered over us, leaving trails of blood gushing down her face. She whipped around to face me and slammed her head off of the wheel, the bones in her neck crunching within the few seconds I had left before everything went still –

The tears were unmistakable once I tossed my eyes open to face my decorative chandelier hanging above my head in the darkness. Balling my hands into fists, I took them down my cheeks and dried the tears with each stroke. Two minutes had passed and I was still holding my fingertips to the corner of my lip, fresh tears repeating their paths.

My hand fell to my neck, where I bundled the delicate silver chain into a gentle cluster, keeping it close. I felt the details of the silver heart-shaped locket, running the very tips of my fingers along the dent from the day that she'd tried to break the locket. The day that she didn't break. Not yet...

"Annie?"

Aaron's face was like a silhouette of a ghost in the doorway, gazing at me from a distance. My eyes met his and I made room for him in the bed, as if it were a natural act. He had crawled under the covers, leaning his head against me, his tangled brown hair brushing against the skin on my shoulders.

"Did I wake you?" I asked. His eyes fluttered open for me to catch a glimpse of the beautiful blue with flecks of green. His head moved back and forth against my shoulder, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Was it Ashley again?" he whimpered. I nodded slowly. It was easier to tell the truth than to reject the question. Aaron pushed his lips together and said, "It's okay, Annie, I still have them too."

I pulled him closer to me, feeling him settle against my chest. I lost track of the time when I was with him. When I'd found that an hour had passed through the silence, I moved with such precision, not wanting to wake him. Pulling him up into my arms, I found that he was much lighter than I'd expected for a boy the age of eight.

When we reached his room, I settled him onto his mattress and pulled the covers up over his body. His chest was rising and falling gently when I leaned down to press my lips to his forehead. My hand lingered on his shoulder as I heard myself whisper, "Goodnight, little man."

I proceeded to walk the length of the hallway alone. After slipping through my bedroom door, I left it open just enough for the light to flood in. And there, illuminated by the light, was the picture of me and Ashley. For a moment I gazed at what it captured: our happiness and sureness that life would be more than incredible.

Lifting it off of its hook, I placed the picture face-down for the night.

I reminded myself, Just try to move on.

But when it comes to your one and only sister, something as agonizing as forgetting is a difficult thing to accomplish. Even I knew.

***

By seven, I was bounding down the stairs to grab breakfast before the homeroom bell rang. I crossed from the carpet to the hardwood of the kitchen to find my mother watching me over her glass of orange juice.

"Anastasia, we've discussed that your tardiness at breakfast will not be tolerated," she said coldly.

"I'm sorry, mom," I said politely. "I ensure that it won't happen again."

I jerked the chair from the table and plopped down on its surface. I turned to Aaron, who was giggling at his biology textbook until my mother snapped, "Aaron, what could possibly so hilarious about science?"

Aaron's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry, mommy. I just didn't know that penguins had thighs. I'm trying to imagine."

"There will be none of that, understand?"

"What?" I spoke clearly. "Imagining?"

Her eyes darted to me. Nonchalantly, I took another gulp of my chocolate milk and placed it on the surface of the table. She didn't blink as she glared toward me.

"What was that, Anastasia?"

"What's wrong with having an imagination?" I questioned. "He's eight. Let him be a kid."

I winced as her fork crashed onto the platter in front of her. She slammed her napkin beside of her and cried, "One more word and you will not be permitted to intern at the hospital, which would be a terrible thing considering your career path. Are we clear?"

Standing from the table, I didn't look back at her. I grabbed my keys, and I was gone.

***

My charming boyfriend was resting his arm up against the freshly painted green metal of my locker when I walked into the school. He was fixing his hair when I reached him, applying another dollop of gel and combing it over ever so carefully.

"What took you so long?" Jesse demanded. He stepped out of the way for me to enter my combination and throw my purse inside.

"Nothing," I said quietly. "I don't really want to talk about it."

He sneered, "No, let's hear the excuse this time."

I turned to look up at him, his eyes insistent. I blinked a few times before I rolled my eyes and said, "Fine, what is there to say? My mom hates everything I do because I don't meet her high expectations, and she's even starting to crack down on Aaron. It's one thing for him to be reading a science textbook at breakfast, but it's another thing for her to be bitching about him finding even the slightest thing funny. He's eight, she shouldn't –"

Jesse cut me off. "Okay, that's enough."

I fell silent, pursing my lips together. I lifted my Chemistry textbook and History binder from the depths of my locker and held them out to Jesse.

"Could you hold these for a second?" I said, my shoulder collapsing from the weight of my bag. I looked up to find that Jesse's gaze was being averted to the cheerleaders heading to practice out by the football field.

"Hey," I spat. His eyes shot to mine as I repeated, "Jesse, please hold them."

"Can't you?" he said, his eyes trailing back to the cheerleaders. He leaned up against the lockers, the corner of his jacket dangling inside of mine.

"Ladies!" he called, whistling after them.

Infuriated, I slammed the locker door shut and spun around on my heels. It took him a moment to notice that he was caught, but by the time he did, I was halfway down the hall. I ignored him calling my name.

"Annie," he shouted. "A little help? I don't know your locker combination."

"That's too bad," I called.

As I walked, I tried not to tell myself that it was going to be a horrible day. Instead, I tried to remind myself that I would be graduating in less than month. I would be leaving for college, and I would never come back. There had to be something else out there waiting for me.

There has to be. Right...?