[Eyyyyy first update of 2018! Haha.
TRIGGER WARNING: Like chapter 17, this one includes acts of abuse through Reese's POV. Read at your discretion, and rely on your fellow readers if you want to know of any advancements in the plot without having to read through the hard stuff. Thanks :)
Take care, stay hydrated, do some squats, eat some ass, enjoy the update (can you really enjoy it??). Love ya!]
Stay Creepy, My Friends!~
Chapter 45
Jeff's POV
It seemed as if the space in my room wasn't big enough, the air not plentiful enough for me to breathe. All thoughts and emotions in me seemed to stutter for the seconds I spent staring up at Ellie's alabaster face.
The face I hadn't seen for a little over a year smiled down at me. Her pink lips looked as pristine as I remembered, when all I had to have Ellie with me was her memory. Even with little lighting, her eyes still illuminated with a new light behind them. Though it's been so long since I've seen her, I recognized that pure look. I wanted to reach out and snatch her up in my arms. I wanted to grab that light in her eyes and bathe in it forever. Yet I remained speechless, gaping at her in awe and utter shock.
"It's me, Ellie," she whispered, sensing the disbelief in me. Carefully, she raised her left hand, her palm facing me. She seemed to beckon me without uttering a command, and I slowly lifted my hand from my blanket. It felt like such a far reach for her hand but our palms met sooner than I anticipated. I almost flinched away. Her skin is so warm, and yet it feels strange to touch it, so foreign and almost taboo.
Ellie kept her smile on and gazed deeply into my eyes. Something about that look made me breathless all over again. The disbelief came back. I can't believe she's here after all of this time. She's here.
Then, her lips straightened as she cast her eyes down. She retracted her hand from me and rubbed her other arm with it, uneasy. She pursed her lips for a moment before looking at me again and saying, "I'm sorry for never coming back sooner."
A newfound guilt crossed her face. "I know I left you without warning or excuse. It was a terrible move on my part, but one that I had to take. I can explain if you let me."
I hadn't recognized that last sentence as a question so the both of us had remained in silence for several seconds. I finally eased her concern and nodded. My mouth wouldn't open when I thought about speaking. Ellie took a seat at the edge of the bed, quiet and graceful. There was plenty of space between us and I wasn't sure if I should close the gap or just be patient.
"After the battle with Zalgo at TIRACorp," she began softly, "I became...unstable. I wasn't in the right mind to see you or anyone. I was afraid I'd cause more trouble than relief, so I stayed away so I could deal with my instability on my own. It worked for the most part, but I still found myself doing stupid things, hurting myself mainly. And I wish I could've recovered sooner, wish I was strong enough to will myself back to normal, but the process took its course anyway. It took a little over a year to get better, alone, with no one to help, and I couldn't help but feel like shit knowing you were worse off. I'm sorry. Sorry must not even cut it..."
Inside, I felt awkward, because it took the both of us over a year to "get better", but the difference was that I had plenty of help, plenty of resources, plenty of moral support from everyone, and it still took me about as long when it shouldn't have. Yikes.
"Jeff," she called to me so softly. It sounded too intimate to be for me. Almost like her voice is too sacred for me to listen to, like I don't deserve to. But I've waited so long for it. I looked at her, gazed into her eyes, imprinted their glittering imagine in my mind. Sapphire and gold. Beautiful. Ah, she's saying something—stop spacing out!
She giggled, probably at whatever face I was making. Gently, she grabbed my left hand and I flinched momentarily. I don't want her to feel the missing space where my ring finger should be. I don't want her to look. But she did, and her face didn't change the slightest. She simply squeezed my hand with her gloved right hand and said, "While I was trying to recover, I did make a plan for us to be together. This is going to sound crazy but...I want you to come with me. I-I've managed to find ourselves a home to be in, I have money—anything you need, I've got it, or will give it to you. Don't even feel hesitant to ask me for anything, just say it and I'll deliver. You deserve that. Yes?"
Slowly, I nodded, taking in her words. She smiled and pressed her forehead against my hand. She wants me to live with her? Of course I will. I want to be with her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. But...
"Now, I know you're probably wondering," she began, reading me once again, "what that means for you staying here. Well...you won't, if you decide to come with me. Not anymore. B-But I guarantee you'll love our new home...! Aside from that...yes, you would have to leave the mansion. The whole point of my plan was to...well...get away from all of...this."
She gestured to my room, to her eyes, and gently hovered her finger over the missing space on my hand. I knew what she meant. With a somber look in her eyes, she said, "This life...doesn't suit us anymore. We've been through too much. There should be a stopping point, you know? And this is it. My Proxy powers are at their last leg now that Ao has taken full responsibility. I'm...no longer needed in terms of fighting. I'm done with this, Jeff, and I would like to leave it behind and start anew. Will...Will you join me along for the journey?"
Something I hadn't expected but was not too surprised over was that her hands were trembling. Nervousness? I'm nervous too. Why can't I comfort her and tell her I feel the same way? My voice just won't work. I'm too nervous, too starstruck over her sudden appearance. I've missed her so much and I love her so much that I don't want to fuck things up.
Her offer lingered in my head. Leave behind the mansion? I suppose I could but...what about everyone? And I just recently reconciled with Ben. My friends...can I leave them behind for a new life? What's in this new life? Ellie, of course.
The group doesn't need me...right? I haven't contributed to anything, not since before SCP. I just sit around, mope, eat, sleep, speak up here and there. I thank my friends for helping me out. They've done a lot, even when I'm only an asshole as a return. It's a good thing Ellie came at this time, because if she came earlier, she might not have liked the Jeff she met, maybe even hated him. I've gotten better, and maybe with Ellie back in my life, I'll fully recover like she has.
"Ellie," I finally spoke and her face brightened with anticipation. My throat felt dry. I squeezed her hands in mine. Quietly, I continued, "promise me something?"
She nodded. "Anything."
I bit my lip and looked down at our hands. The memories of her cries and pleads during my torture were fighting me hard. I tried to be as strong for her as I could be at that time. I tried so hard. That damned room and her crying face were the last remnants I had of her before Death took me away and put me back together. I can't lose Ellie again, no matter what.
"Promise that you'll never leave me," I said.
Her fingers squeezed my skin, caressed ever so tenderly. She leaned forward so that our eyes met and replied, "I promise with all my heart, Jeff."
I nodded and tried to hide my face again, especially my eyes. That wouldn't sit with her. Ellie cupped my face in one hand, brushed her thumb against my cheek. Carefully, she leaned forward and planted a sweet, warm, soft kiss against my other cheek. Just like that, every drop of emotion that I held back had come rushing the floodgates. I pulled her onto my lap, locked my arms around her waist, and buried my face in her neck, in her smooth hair. And I cried. Softly. Quietly. So no one but her could hear. So no one could ruin this moment. Ellie placed a kiss at the top of my head and wrapped her arms around me, swaying from side to side to comfort me. I could hear her crying too, just as quietly.
"Please, don't let this be a dream," I murmured. "I can't lose you again. Stay right here in my arms. Please..."
"This isn't a dream," she assured me. "I'm here for you, right where you want me to be...! We'll live peacefully together. W-We'll be happy and peaceful, like those old couples. Out in the country, just us and nature. And we'll star gaze. We'll look at all the stars in a night sky just for us. Yeah, maybe it'll get boring, maybe this fresh start is mundane, but we can be happy. As long as we have each other. I'll fight the whole world for your happiness, okay? Remember that. I love you so much...!"
"I love you too, Ellie," I admitted. Such words hadn't come out of my mouth in so long. It felt good; it felt right! This is what I want. This is what I need. Ellie. My love, my light.
"My Sunshine," I whispered and we pressed our foreheads together, smiling. This smile, this genuine smile I haven't used in so long. I missed this flutter in my chest, this warmth between us, this sense of security in my head. These feelings that made me feel human again. These feelings that make me feel alive now.
After we had shared a moment together and calmed down, I got out of bed and started getting ready. I changed into new clothes (which I thought was funny because Ellie insisted that she turn away, although she doesn't need to. She's so cute) and got my things together. Luckily, I don't have a wide variety of clothes. Most of what I needed could fit into a backpack and a duffle bag. Although I couldn't forget a few other important things.
Ellie smiled so sweetly when I took out Christopher Bubbles the Third, Pooka the Jellyfish, and...Shark (never did give him a name. How cruel) from my closet. She held them all with loving arms and the expression on her face was the most amazing thing ever. Absolutely stunning.
"Are you ready?" she asked me.
I nodded and adjusted my backpack strap.
She scanned her eyes over my room and said, "This will probably be the last time you're ever here. Are you sure?"
I nodded once more. "I've been sure since the day I fell in love with you. I want to start over again with you by my side. A new life is a daunting thing, but I'll do it if it means I can spend the rest of my days with you. I'm fuckin' ready, Ellie."
Her smile didn't fail to comfort me. She stepped close and whispered, "That's great to hear. Cover your eyes, alright? My teleportation is a little...wonky, and I don't want you getting disoriented or anything."
"Okay," I agreed. My body was practically vibrating from the anticipation, excitement and nervousness of this, like I was in line for a rollercoaster. This is it. Ellie is finally back and I'll get to be with her like I wanted. A new life, new home, new horizons. All for us.
I have my Sunshine again.
...
Reese's POV
I often forget that Hunter was never always invincible and confident, the brother every younger sibling could look up to and depend on. Yes, he was braver than I had been, stronger than I had been, shined brighter than anyone could, but he was not invincible.
There were times when I would find him crying in his bedroom late at night, when everyone would be asleep—was supposed to be asleep—so no one could hear him. There were times when he dropped his kind, loving demeanor towards me and let his emotions snap, but the most he would ever do was glare and hiss at me to leave him alone. He could never dare imagine hurting me purposefully. Despite those moments, I continued to see him as strong, as strong as those heroes I'd read about or play as in games, stronger even.
It was through him, through watching him, through standing beside him, often overpowered by his shadow, that I learned you don't have to be fearless, stone-faced and rough to be strong. It's natural that being strong takes a lot of out people, and they will eventually have their breaking moments, the moments when they cry or have an outburst; they'd say things they didn't mean to their little brother and cry even more about it later, they'd say things to themselves that shouldn't be admitted to someone so honest and fair. That's the cost of being strong.
And at the cost of being strong, there are forces that try to ruin that. That force was unfortunately the man who was supposed to love and care for us and watch us grow into good men. He, in turn, was supposed to be a good man too. But he wasn't. Never was as soon as I was born. Demonio.
Strong doesn't mean you have to be cold, tough and rough, but it doesn't mean you're invincible either.
"Dad, stop! Please!" I cried out, frozen in place and at the mercy of Hunter's promise.
"Shut up," the enraged man growled.
"I-I was the one who stole the toy! Why are you hurting him??"
Dad held Hunter's shirt collar in his clenched fist, while Hunter almost kneeled before him, having already suffered from a slap to the face and maintaining a collected expression. He had recently turned 11 years old a week ago and had received no birthday. Dad wouldn't allow it; Mom was too afraid to object. Now he was receiving yet another punishment, his first on his 11th year in this messed up life.
What made this situation worse is that it's my fault. I had swiped a toy from the corner store to give to Hunter as a present, but my 7 year old mind didn't process the fact that it had had a security tag. The alarm went off as I was leaving, and I was too bewildered to run from the security guard. I was taken into the security room to wait for someone to come for me since I had gone alone. Of all people, Dad was the one to show up, and I felt like I was punched in the gut knowing my silent prayers for Mom didn't work. And now? Hunter pays the price for my first and only theft.
"Don't you remember, Reese? He said he'd take all your punishments," Dad simply stated.
"But he never even did anything! Please, Dad, leave him alone," I pleaded, tears threatening to spill.
"Oh, so you want to finally man up and take your punishments, huh?" Immediately, Dad let Hunter go and stepped towards me. I gulped and stepped away. I felt horrible knowing I still didn't want to be hurt, even if it would save Hunter.
"Dad, please, I'm sorry I stole the toy. I'll never do it again," I whimpered as he came closer.
"Knowing a little shit like you, you will. One way or another, you're gonna pull some stupid stunt like that again. A simple scolding won't cut it," he muttered.
For every step he took forward, I took one back. But for every step I took back, I gradually placed myself in a corner. Shaking my head, I stammered, "Dad, stop it, please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll be good! I promise! Don't touch me! Don't touch me—NO, STOP IT!"
He had suddenly lunged forward and grabbed at my neck. I tried to shrug my shoulders to keep his grip off of me but to no avail. He yanked me away from my corner and threw me onto the floor. Pinning me down, he barked, "You want another trip to the basement, you brat??"
I cried and shook my head, remembering my fateful tumble down the stairs and my new scar on my upper lip from the last time I was put in the basement. I can still feel the sensation of my lip busting open, blood pooling in my mouth, my screams a gurgled shrill like that of an animal.
"Quit that shrieking," he hissed. "C'mon, you're going to the fuckin' basement."
"NO! NO! PLEASE! NOT THERE! DAD, PLEASE!!"
As he dragged me to the back of the house, I kicked and flailed to desperately get out of his clutches. All of it was fruitless. He was a strong man compared to others. He could lift me off my feet by my neck with ease, as if I was a flimsy, cotton doll, his hand easily the noose with which to asphyxiate me. I've seen him do it to Hunter. I've seen him do it to Mom.
Just as we were getting to the basement, I heard Hunter utter something like a war cry. All of a sudden, there was a metallic BANG, followed by Dad's pained shout. He let go of me and I curled in on myself, coughing and rubbing my neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hunter wielding one of the kitchen pans from the bottom cabinets. Dad was rubbing the back of his head, glaring Hell's inferno at him.
"I meant it when I said I'd take all his beatings," Hunter huffed, clearly spent by the situation already. "You're not laying a finger on him...!"
"Hunter—!" I began, but was cut off when Dad went at him in the blink of an eye. Hunter threw the pan out of panic, hoping to land a hit, but Dad dodged it just barely. The man grabbed onto Hunter's blonde hair and yanked him to the floor. While Dad pinned him down, Hunter fought with all his might, kicking and punching, biting and scratching. He managed to do some damage, having punched Dad in the face several times. I could only watch in fear and awe as my brother wore the expression as a wild animal fighting for its life. Fear, anger, desperation, and blind adrenaline mixed into one 11 year old boy with only his younger brother's well-being in mind.
"Puto feo! Jódete!" Hunter yelled, landing a kick to Dad's face somehow. Watching him fight was like watching those superheroes in our favorite TV shows. I even found myself feebly cheering, telling him, "Keep fighting, Hunter... Fight! You can do this! Fight!"
During their struggle, I glanced at the cooking pan that had been thrown. I thought about doing what Hunter did and shakily grabbed the handle. It took so much just to tighten my grip on it. My whole body was trembling with fear and the adrenaline of doing what Hunter had done. If I hit Dad hard enough, maybe he'll stop. Maybe he'll go to sleep and Hunter and I can run to Mom's work. Maybe he'll...if I hit him hard enough...he'll sleep for good...all of this can be over. No more hurting, no more pain, no more screaming, no more listening to Mom sob, no more scars and tears...
This can be over. No more Dad. I just need to get up and hit him. Hit him.
No more Dad.
Hit him.
No more Dad.
Hit him. Hit him! Hit him!
HIT HIM!
HIT HIM!!
With a great rush of energy and rage the likes of which no 7 year old should ever feel, I whipped back the pan to bash it against Dad's head.
But he caught it.
He had Hunter finally under control, having clamped his mighty hand around my brother's neck—his face was slowly going red from getting little air. Dad had turned around just in time. My hands were trembling, scared of the consequences of what I was trying to do, straining to pull my only weapon from his hand. For the first time ever, I could see him for what he truly is, for what Hunter always called him—demonio. Because the scariest thing he did then and there...was grin viciously at me.
Suddenly, I was on the floor, my left knee throbbing with pain at having been hit with the pan that was meant to be used on Dad. Everything just went downhill from there.
Instead of me, Dad took Hunter down to the basement, and I was forced to listen to his pained cries from whatever punishment he endured for me. I wanted to call to him, but my voice wasn't strong enough, stolen by my cowardice and guilt. In my mind, I willed him to fight again, to win against the monster we called Dad. But at the same time, I just wanted him to rest, to not have to struggle, because the more he does the worse it gets. He never did know when to quit.
When the basement door opened and Dad came out, I didn't even scramble away. My fight was gone, and he seemed to know that. All he did was scoff at me before passing me by. I remained sitting by the basement door, waiting for Hunter to come out too, wearing the "that didn't scare me" face that he usually wears after Dad's beatings. But he never came back up. And I waited, and waited, and waited. And I began to cry. Is he dead? Did Dad kill him? No, I killed him, I did this. All over some stupid toy...!
Too concerned for Hunter and too scared to move anywhere else in the house, I quietly opened the basement door and made my way down the stairs I had begun to hate. It was awfully quiet and dark, and I was shivering so much my teeth chattered. My hands finally found a switch and I flinched at the sudden presence of light in the dingy basement.
My heart dropped at the sight of Hunter lying on the floor, his back facing me, his figure unmoving. The tears were instant and my bottom lip quivered. This crushing feeling in my heart was more than sadness; it was pure, unadulterated despair.
But at the sounds of my crying, Hunter twitched in his spot and I cried out with relief. I practically tumbled across the concrete floor to him and leaned over him to check how he was. His face was red and splotchy—from crying or getting hit, it's hard to tell—and his nose was runny, the corners of his mouth invaded with saliva. My relief soon turned to concern and I gently wiped his face to get all the muck off. He winced here and there but remained still and silent most of the time. Eventually, he found it in himself to look at me with those big, brown eyes that always reminded me of sweet chocolate.
"Are you okay?" he asked me with a hoarse voice.
I couldn't help but cry again, letting my tears fall onto his skin. Instead of wiping his own face, he cleared the tears off mine first. I held his hand against my cheek, embracing the warmth of his palm in this cold, lonely basement.
"I was so close," I murmured.
"To what?" he asked.
Sniffling, I answered, "To ending it. For good."
He blinked, confused.
Simply, I whispered, "I wanted to kill him, Hunter." And it felt like I had just spit out absolute sin from my mouth. My stomach rolled at the thought.
He brushed his hand against my face, running his fingers through my hair. With a gentle smile still as charming as ever despite the marks on his face, he said, "Reese, don't be thinking like that..."
"But..."
"Killing is bad."
"So is hurting people," I argued.
He sighed and brushed his hand against my face more. Tenderly, he pulled my head down so that our foreheads touched, and I closed my eyes, trying to imagine that his face wasn't red and splotchy, trying to imagine that our lives were better than this. Even though Hunter and I could make a world of our own in our rooms with a few toys and knick-knacks, my imagination wasn't strong enough to picture a better life. What we have, what we are now, is too far gone. We're completely broken.
"I did this, this is all my fault, it's always my fault," I began to mutter. "That's how it's always been. My fault. My fault. My fault..! Dad hurts you because of me. I never seem to do anything right. I'm trying Hunter. I'm trying really hard to be good but I always mess up. I'm a failure. A mistake. Everything is my fault. Mom and you hurt because of me. It should've just been you...! Only you..! I shouldn't have been born..! I...I should just die so I can't hurt you anymore!"
My sobbing was interrupted by Hunter pulling me down and wrapping me up in his arms. Before I could respond, he said, "Don't say that. Don't you ever say that."
"It's true...!" I whimpered into his shirt.
"You listen to Dad too much," he said. "What he says doesn't matter. He doesn't love us. Only people who really love us tell us the truth, the real things we should take to heart. Like Mom. Fuck what Dad says."
"Don't curse.."
He giggled into my hair. "Sorry."
It didn't take too long for my crying to cease. We remained lying on the floor, holding each other like we'd fall through the Earth at any moment.
"I don't care how painful it is, I'll always protect you. I can't imagine being a one-y, Reese. They look lonely. I'm never lonely with you. And I know Mom is grateful for you, no matter what. I hear her pray her thanks at night. She loves you. I love you."
"You shouldn't. You get hurt for it."
"Yeah, but that's a price I'm willing to pay. Besides, you'll be sad all the time if I chose to hate you. But I don't. I choose love."
And just like that I was crying again, but my tears were tears of relief. Yet I still held fear in my heart with the notion that Hunter would never give up, that he'd continue to fight on my behalf even though I don't deserve it. I just want him to rest.
"What toy were you trying to get?" he asked me out of nowhere.
Blushing at the thought of how this started, I said, "It was a racing car you didn't have. It was all I could take."
Where I expected him to get mad at me—"All of this over some stupid, little car??"—he just chuckled and petted my head. "What'd it look like?"
My tension eased as I described the car. It had green, holographic flames on the sides so it blazed bright at whatever angle you looked at it, and had silver wheels.
"That one sounds cool," he awed, which made me feel better. "Let's hope it's still there tomorrow. We're gonna get it."
I had the urge to ask with what money, knowing he'd use his own that he's saved in secret. But I didn't want to ruin his mood, so I agreed. Then after that, Hunter and I laid on the floor, still huddled together. He had moved his arm under my head so that he was my pillow, his other arm my blanket. After a while, the cold silence of the basement was replaced by his gentle humming of a lullaby Mom used to sing to us before bed. I can hear the actual words in my head. I can feel the guilt swell inside me, filling every crevice. Why is he the one comforting me?
Then, I realized my answer when he thought I had fallen asleep due to his humming, when he thought I wouldn't be able to hear him cry quietly to himself, when he didn't want me to know he was but I did. I remained silent.
Strong doesn't mean you have to be cold, tough and rough, but it doesn't mean you're invincible either. But I think not being invincible isn't bad. It just makes being strong more valuable.
I owe Hunter my life. He's the hero I always dreamed of being and the hero I always idolized in fiction. No one can outshine Hunter; he's his own force. The force that has kept me on my feet and in line (for the majority of the time). Anyone who hurts him is a devil, plain and simple, no doubt or excuse. He's a man of true strength and nothing can take him down.
And then I got that phone call.
...
My day had been rough due to having started it with that dream. For so long I've tried to put those memories at the farthest corner of my mind, yet they'll come right back so easily. Like a cold you've been chugging down medicine to avoid, and it still hit you somehow. Albeit, such dreams are a good reminder to not fall into that life again, to rise above it and be better, but...it just fucking sucks sometimes.
It also hasn't been helping that Hunter is suffering from his own issues and it's showing. To start off, he had lost his prescription for his anxiety meds over a week ago and hasn't gotten a new one. His doctor won't allow it, for some reason. Hunter says doctors can do that in case the patient is only requesting their medicine just to have more when they don't need it, or to possibly sell it. I thought that was bullshit. Hunter obviously would never do that, but the doctor is "being precautious". Precautious my ass. Due to that bastard's "precaution", Hunter has to wait for a new prescription to come in. Unfortunately, what he and his doctor didn't realize was that Hunter's level of anxiety is much more hindering than they remembered.
It kicked him pretty hard over the course of a couple of days. Hunter's schedule and routine is demanding and hectic at times what with his two part-time jobs and going to college. He always puts in his best effort in everything, so now that his anxiety is back, that gold-standard of effort that he placed before has become overwhelming.
He overloads on information he receives in his classes at the college; he finds it hard to have conversations with his coworkers because of all the "noise in his head", and he gets more tired than he used to. When he comes home, he doesn't eat anything. Mom is at the point of begging him to sit at the table and eat something—anything—but he won't. In addition, he doesn't sleep. I know he doesn't, because I don't hear his loud-ass snoring at night anymore (I've come to miss it). Strangely enough...he doesn't do anything. No watching TV, no playing video games, no working on his laptop, nothing to pass the time. It's just....silence...yet I know he's awake.
I'm scared for him. He hasn't been like this since after our dad went to prison, when all the stress of fearing for our lives had finally come to an end but our trauma came to light and kept hitting us in place of Demonio. What's worse is that I want to help Hunter, but I can't, because he won't let me. The first time I tried, he just gave me an empty stare and left the apartment entirely. I'm scared for him the same as I was scared for him when we were younger. His behavior was never this bad. Sometimes he's not even Hunter. And it hurts to admit that I've cried because of it. If only I could go to that doctor's office and beat his stupid, fucking head in, see if his "precaution" prepared him for that.
On a more positive note, there's a week until prom, but I haven't seen Ben yet. We still talk, although I haven't told him about what's going on with Hunter, for fear that I would worry him more than need be. My brother will get his prescription soon anyway, but it would have been better if it had come sooner.
Today though, today I have to cheer up, because today...I want to see Ben. It's been too long since we've met up and I know I can't wait until Saturday night, prom. I need to see him. And possibly, if I can build up the courage and not be such a dumbass...I'll ask him out to prom properly. I've already bought the tickets and everything. I'll give him his ticket and ask him to be my date—my actual date. Not just a friend coming along for the experience; my date. My date. And I'll tell him that I don't want that title used for prom only. My heart feels like it's going to explode out of my chest at the thought. Don't fuck it up, Reese. Hunter 'el guapo' Montemayor taught you better...!
It was a Thursday. As soon as the final bell for school rang, I was out of there like there was no tomorrow. I had to remind myself to take it easy and be careful while I was driving home. The traffic today decided to be more annoying than usual and each red light felt more excruciating than the last. To make matters worse, an ambulance had to come through, probably because of some poor drivers who couldn't take the afternoon bustle. God, it must be bad today. Once my apartment building came into view, I let out the most enthusiastic sigh of relief. All I need to do is put my stuff away, maybe change into something better looking, and then I'll be on my way again.
On the ride up to the elevator, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. My first instinct was to think it was Ben and my stomach immediately got butterflies. Upon looking at the caller ID, it was not Ben, but it was Mom. Maybe I need to get groceries for her again. I think I can find time to get some.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Reese...!" Mom began with some strain in her voice. "Estás en la casa? A-Are you home?"
Confused, I said, "Yes, I'm in the elevator."
"Oh thank god...! A-Artem should get there in a little while to keep an eye on you. Behave with him, okay?"
"Huh? Why? What's going on? You sound like...you've been crying," I stated.
The sniffle on the other end of the line proved me right. Mom racked a quick sob before saying, "I'm sorry, mijo. I know you were going to see Ben, and—I'm so sorry..."
"For what, mamá? Please tell me. You're worrying me—."
"Hunter got into a car accident," she stated outright.
My hand felt as if it was going to go numb at any second and drop my phone. The elevator doors had opened onto my floor but I didn't feel like crossing the threshold. I couldn't bring myself to move at all.
"Reese? Reese, please stay home. Okay? Por favor, mijo—."
"Is he okay?" I asked.
She responded with silence but I could hear her struggled breathing over her tears, could feel her emotional energy wavering in the air that I breathed too. My heart began pounding hard, faster than it has in a long time. My nerves were thrumming to the point where I wanted to scream.
I repeated, "Mamá, is he okay?"
"Reese..."
"Is he?!"
I couldn't bear to take this tension any longer. I hung up. The elevator doors had long closed but I practically punched the button for the ground floor. All that was on my mind was that ambulance that had to come through...its sirens rang in my ears now...I could picture the red and white lights blinding me. That couldn't have been for Hunter...
I didn't wait for the elevator doors to fully open and slipped through instead. My legs carried me out of the lobby and onto the sidewalk, then towards the direction where I saw the ambulance go, where I could hear the sirens now, so distant and small sounding. I wouldn't have given it a second-thought; I wouldn't have cared, but now I know...now I know...!
The fire in my chest was raging, piercing, consuming, but I never stopped. No matter how much the soles of my feet hurt from the jolt of recklessly bounding across the sidewalk, I never thought to stop. The only thing that was on my mind was Hunter, how he had been behaving the past week, how I cried over him, how I wanted to help him but never could or did. He remained silent as he suffered, remained under the guise of "I'm fine" as his mind fumed on the inside, slowly wearing him down. Like he used to do when we were younger.
"Are you okay?" he would always ask me—ME!
My head was pounding from my exertion and worry. It messed with my vision sometimes.
...when he thought I wouldn't be able to hear him cry quietly to himself, when he didn't want me to know he was but I did...
That bastard! Why can't you just let others take care of you for once, Hunter?!
...I remained silent...
No, I'm the bastard. ME! Not him. Never him. I should've tried harder.
...I can feel the guilt swell inside me, filling every crevice...
Why didn't you try harder, Reese? Why didn't you bring it within yourself to persist? You bastard! You're a piece of shit! You're the fucking worst!
...everything is my fault...
Why are you like this?! Why can't you be better?!
...I should...
Please, forgive me Hunter.
... just die...
Please!
...so I can't hurt you anymore...
The sirens were getting louder the closer I got. I can see the lights.
...it should've just been you...
Me.
...only you...
It should've been me!
...I only hurt you...
Hurt me!
...I'm killing him...
Kill me!!!
...I'm so sorry, Hunter...
The ambulance was right there, wailing away the unspoken sorrow of the accident. Pedestrians stood on the sidewalk, trying to look but also trying not to look. A car crash is such a deadly but enticing thing to see. The lights, the smell, the tension in the air. No one can look away—no one dares to look away because these instances allow them to gaze the closest to death that they can without feeling the weight on their shoulders, until their time comes too.
I shoved past the gawking people, uncaring if I angered them or not. My heart was beating in my ears so loud that they could have overwhelmed the sirens. I wanted to sit down and take a breather, but my stress kept me on my feet. My eyes frantically swept over the scene. Hunter's car was there, looking beat up, hit almost head on. I didn't want it to be his car, but it is. Police were there too, examining it, keeping the people away, blocking and redirecting other vehicles.
There was a rattling. I looked to my right to see paramedics at a gurney...with someone on it. They were bloodied. Unmoving. A hand dangled off the side until it was moved onto the gurney. Paramedics were carrying him to the ambulance. I started running forward before my brain even registered it. I didn't give myself the time to even assess the situation, to feel anything. I just ran.
...Fear, anger, desperation, and blind adrenaline...
A police officer spotted me.
...Countless times I've seen him bleed...
More officers looked my way. They rushed toward me.
...Too many times I've watched him lay unmoving and silent...
I didn't care for the cops. All I could see was the paramedics lifting the gurney up.
...Demonio's fists hit him over and over as I watch, helpless—no, you were a fucking coward and you knew it, you disgusting piece of shit, poor excuse of a brother, poor excuse of a human being—
"Sir, stop!" an officer commanded, right before he and his fellow cops had to hold me back. At their touch, I finally snapped out of my trance and began to scream and cry.
...Why did you have to fight for me, Hunter? Why is loving me worth the pain? Why is it a punishment, a sin, to love me?
My tears were hot and cascading down my cheeks. My screams never seemed loud enough yet they hurt me. My chest hurt. Everything hurt. I always thought feeling numb was the worst thing. I was wrong. This is worse than feeling numb. So much worse.
...I would scream at him to fight...
"Hunter!" I shouted out loud.
...As if we were my champion. He was...
"No! Hunter!"
...My words, my mantra, my endless chant, my eternal prayer far above the power of any other...
They echoed: "Keep fighting, Hunter! Fight! You can do it! I know you can! Fight it! Fight! Fight! Fight!"
"Sir, please...!" one officer pleaded, but they soon learned that trying to calm me down was a fruitless task to them. All they could do was carry me away as I kicked and thrashed, begged them to let me go so I could see my brother. Just once. Just once!
Paramedics finally lifted the gurney into the ambulance. My heart dropped. No. I don't want this to be the last time. I need to see him. I don't care if he's bloody. If this is my last chance with him, let me go to him! Let me be there for him! Let me go! Please!
One paramedic finally shut the back doors of the ambulance and that was it. I screamed my heart out, all my pain—though it will never leave me—right then and there in the police officers' arms.
"HUNTER!!!"