Shattered

Carter (e)

"Get away from me," He clumsily stood to his feet, spitting blood onto the concrete with a humorless laugh. He stumbled a few steps back. "Thought I'd lose you if I lied."

I glanced around the quiet alley, the streets holding nothing but a single car that passed by, one I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't looked. There was no police.

"Let me take you home." I said, staring at my brother.

Thomas was barely recognizable. The childhood brother I had once grown up with was nowhere to be found. The impeccable, no-stray-hair in sight version of Thomas was replaced with a drunken, haphazard person I barely recognized.

"No, I'm not going anywhere with you."

Slowly, I came toward Thomas, as if to reach out to reel him towards me, but the anger that flashed in his gaze and the way he lifted his hand as if to hit me made me flinch away.

"Touch me and I'll hit you."

Fear welled up inside my chest as I took a step back, willing my pulse to calm as it jumped into my throat. The feeling was so familiar I felt the bile rise to my throat. The images that raced through my mind were on full display now and found myself gasping for breath as I turned from my brother.

"Thomas," I said, my voice quiet. If I spoke any louder, I was sure my voice would crack.

I glanced over my shoulder, Thomas had gone utterly still, head hung as if realizing what had happened. When our eyes met, he took a tentative step toward me.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Carter." Thomas held out a hand to prop himself up on the brick wall, the rise and fall of his chest clearly visible.

The apology did nothing to calm my racing heart, not with Thomas's gaze still focused on me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, and my mind barely registered the thud as I shrunk away. Back toward the safety of my car.

When I looked back, Thomas was on the ground, holding his head and struggling to lift himself upright. I sighed, holding my trembling fingers together as I forced my way back.

He looked up at me when I held out my hand, swiping at his mouth. I did my best not to look at the vomit strewn across the ground, and instead, kept my face emotionless as I helped Thomas to his feet.

I did my best not to let the fear I felt show on my face as I started toward my car, keeping my gaze firmly on the road ahead of me. Unmoving, unspeaking, I clenched my fingers over the steering wheel as Thomas mumbled apologies in the seat next to mine.

The smell of bile and alcohol that stained the air didn't make me feel any better, swallowing the lump that rose to my throat.

"Where do you live?" My voice sounded shaky, but whether Thomas noticed, he didn't say.

Unlike me, Thomas didn't bother to hide his fear.

"Rebecca can't know!" He let his face fall in his hands, shaking his head slightly. "No, no, no, n—argh!"

His fist collided with the dashboard, and I flinched. The car became filled with bitter, incoherent words—ones that had my knuckles turning ghost-white as I gripped the steering wheel.

Thoughts raced through my mind. Ones that had never resurfaced since the day that Thomas left. But all these years later, I realized that I still felt the ebb of his disappearance in every silent question I dared not to ask, and not sure if I even wanted to know the answer to.

I couldn't keep the cold in my voice as I said, "where do I take you?"

The thought of taking Thomas back home made my heart pound in my chest. Reliving the nightmarish hell that was my life was not something I wanted to be reminded of when my home was supposed to be a safe haven.

"C?"

The ignition came to life at my command, drowning out the emotions that wrapped their fingers around my throat, threatening to close over—I wished they did—and looked over at Thomas, swallowing hard. I suddenly hated that nickname.

"Nobody else knows that I drink. N-Not this bad." Thomas leaned his head back against the headrest, his eyes squeezed shut and his fingers poised over his temples.

Taken aback, it was nearly impossible to hide the surprise that I felt. I was almost afraid to ask, "For how long?"

Thomas paused. He drew his fingers along his face and lifted his gaze to mine.

"Since I was fifteen."

With my sharp intake of breath, Thomas's eyes fell back to his lap. I willed my breathing to calm, but the fear inside me was nearly unbearable. Suffocating.

"Where did you go?" My voice was shaky.

A beat of silence.

"How did you get that scar?" Thomas replied, his own low and thoughtful. A hint of an edge

We both stared. I knew Thomas could see my fear, and he knew that I could see the familiar way that he balled his hands in the material of his shirt.

When Thomas opened his mouth, I turned on the radio and spun out onto the road.