The Art of Finding Jasmine Rose Peters

11

'To love is to fight,  to fight is to forgive, and to forgive is to love. Everything is one and the same.'  ~Equal, Calvin J. Winston

Calvin was right, but he wished he didn't find out the way he did. He was sure Hayden hated him. He didn't want to leave her alone on the floor with no help. If she'd allowed him, he could've helped her.

It wasn't the first time he had seen someone having a panic attack. His sister, Eliza, used to have them all the time. The first time it happened, he found her in her room sweating, despite the AC being on.

He tried to ask her what was happening but she couldn't respond. She was shaking badly, trying to breathe properly. He froze when he came close to her. Her chest was heaving up and down and she looked haggard.

He thought she was dying.

He wanted to call Mom to help her or even his Dad to save her from dying. But he couldn't move, no matter how badly he wanted to help her. He was still watching her as she tried to open her bedside drawer. She broke her lamp in the process.

She finally got what she wanted. A bottle of pills. Prying the lid open, she poured some of them in her mouth before swallowing. What was she doing?

It wasn't until she regained herself that she realized he was in the room and he had watched everything. She tried to explain but his legs had unfrozen and he was out the door before she knew it.

He locked his door and cried himself to sleep.

No matter how much he didn't want to admit, leaving Hayden without doing anything, reminded him of his helplessness watching his sister. But he knew how to help her, she just needed to trust him.

Calvin wasn't sure where he was going as he drove around. He wanted to go back and see if Hayden was all right, but he wasn't welcome. Plus, he wasn't ready to go back home and deal with anyone. There was only one place he could go. Only one person he could see who wouldn't judge him or push him away.

He was going to visit Eliza.

The house was empty when Calvin pulled up. It was pretty late seeing as the midnight guards were already in place, waiting for him to come back.

"Your father is at home," Frank, one of the guards, told him. Great, just great. The one night he had stayed late was the night his father had chosen to come back from his stupid business trip.

"Thanks, Frank."

The front door was open, so he didn't bother using his keys. Frank was right. His father was back. He was the only one who would tell everyone to leave the door open for him.

He could already hear the argument that would most certainly take place.

"Where are you coming from?" He turned around to find his father. Calvin hated how he looked so much like him. Eliza looked like Mom and he looked like Father. The same brown hair, honey-like skin and even the same stance.

"Nowhere, Father," he replied nonchalantly.

"When I ask you a question, I expect it to be answered. Now, I repeat, where are you coming from?" Father's face was absent of any emotions. His mouth was set in a straight line and his eyes were hard.

"It's not like you care." Calvin shrugged. "I could die for all you matter," he said before turning around to leave.

"Calvin Junior Winston!" His voice boomed across the empty house and his mother appeared from the living room.