Wednesday evening, February 12th, 2020
The door slams against its hinges and I cringe as I watch my mother barrel inside, almost creating a hole in our wall.
It's clear that she's been crying. Besides the tear tracks and the smudged mascara, her phone is clutched tightly in her hand, her skin turning white from the pressure.
I sit up on the couch, alarmed. My brows furrow and I try to work out what's happened. It's hard to calm the rising panic.
"Where's Nix? Where is HE? Someone, please, I don't understand!"
"Mum?" I whisper. "Mum, what's happened? Is it dad?"
She shakes her head vigorously, collapsing down on the couch next to me. She strokes my hair with shaky hands, cupping my face.
"Oh god, Lon. Oh god. I was so scared."
"Mum, what the hell is going on? Why are you crying?"
"I thought—" she stops, a sob rising from her throat. "I'd been in a meeting all day and I didn't have my phone on. I'm so sorry. I should have. I should have been there for you."
"Wait. This is about school? You're crying because I got sent to first aid?"
"Don't say it like it was nothing!" she snaps, wiping her eyes. She sets her handbag down on the coffee table, along with her phone.
"I had five missed calls from the school. Do you know what happened the last time I had that many missed calls from school?"
Dread sits heavy in my stomach. "You can't seriously think that I would do what—"
"No," she sobs. "It wasn't that. I just...I thought something had happened to you too."
"Mum, I'm fine. I just fainted, that's all."
She shakes her head, completely disregarding everything I was saying.
"I thought something terrible must have happened. I thought you were..."
She doesn't have to say it. It's clear in her expression. She'd thought I'd died.
"Mum, I'm not—"
Like him.
"I wouldn't do that to you. I promise. I'm here, alright? I'm safe. I'm fine."
"You're not fine. People who are fine don't faint."
I sigh, sitting back against the couch. My shoulder slump forward.
"It was because of the class. I had a panic attack," I whisper.
She grasps onto my hand, holding on tight. Her green eyes pierce through me like she's trying to see what's going on inside my head.
"You're having those again?"
I shake my head. "Not since— not since his funeral. It won't happen again though. It was just because of the class today."
"Class?" she quivers, her tears beginning to dry up.
"Yeah, psychology class. We were learning about...serial killers."
"Oh." The dread is clear across her face. She wasn't expecting me to say any of this.
Suddenly, my mother does something she hasn't done in months. She wraps her bony arms around me, pulling me in tight. I fight back my own tears, suddenly overwhelmed by her affection.
"I'm sorry that I didn't have my phone with me. I usually always do but the one time I don't—"
"Don't do that to yourself. It's fine. I'm okay. Promise."
"I'm sorry, Lon."
I knew something then. Her tears weren't just from today. They weren't just for me.
"I'm sorry Nix. I'm sorry I failed you."
A conversation I had overheard her having with herself, standing by his grave at the funeral everyone told us not to have. The funeral that was disrespectful for the town. And maybe it had been, but people often forgot that monsters had families too. Families that were left wondering why too.
I didn't want people to think I was playing the victim because I wasn't. Nix was a monster, I knew that. Everyone knew that. But somewhere, deep down, he was once a son.
He was once my brother.
"It won't happen again," my mother sternly promises. "I will not let it happen."
"London Mclaren? I'm detective Chandra. We haven't been able to get in contact with your parents."
She pulls away from me, wiping her eyes. She plants a smile on her face, standing to her feet.
"I booked you into the doctors tonight, just to be sure. Just a few blood tests like your school nurse suggested."
I nod and she heads off somewhere, probably to her room.
Mum had been the strongest after Nix's death but now it was starting to crack. I don't think her way of coping was working for her anymore.
She'd picked us all up after it happened. I didn't see her cry until the funeral. My dad, well, I don't know how he coped because I didn't see him. He didn't leave his office for days at a time, only coming out when he needed to eat and use the bathroom.
The front door opens and dad walks in his expression grave.
Here we go. Round two.
"Kiddo," he breathes, his hand patting my head. "Mum rang hysterical in the car. Are you alright?"
After Nix died, I always wondered if I should have asked him the same question. I used to lie awake at night wondering if it would have made a difference if I had just asked if he was alright.
"Yeah, dad."
"Where's your mum?"
"In her room. I think."
"How's she going?"
"Not sure."
"I'll just go check on her."
End of discussion. There was no bullshit anymore between us. Straight to the point.
My family definitely weren't perfect but at least they were trying.