“Okay, chill out woman I was only asking. Although you have to admit they must have been planning something pretty bad with the way they were kitted out, and the fact that the guns they had match the bullet found in Damon,” he says it gently like it must mean El is guilty. But he’s wrong, Elliott would never have done that.
“How do you even know that?” I shout at him, letting my rage out a little at a time.
“It's all here, your dad collected it all. I’m sorry Henleigh, but your brother did play a part in this. Whether you want to believe it or not,” his voice is deepening with his frustration, but I won’t accept this. Elliott can’t defend himself, so I’ll do it for him.
“Just shut up,” I scream as I spin around and slap him hard across the face, he looks shocked, but I’m not done. “You didn’t know Elliott or the others, it isn’t fair to assume something
like this, when he can’t defend himself. You are wrong,” I’m trembling as I get to my feet and my eyes are wild.
“Henleigh,” so fucking patronising, that is what he is. He doesn’t need to talk to me like I’m a child.
“Just get out,” another scream before I storm up the stairs and the sound of the front door slamming closed soon follows.
“Please let him be wrong Elliott, please. I need him to be wrong,” tears stream down my face as I fall onto my bed and scream into my pillow until my throat grows hoarse and I eventually fall asleep.
I WAKE up and everything is dark, what is wrong with me? I never fall asleep during the day like this, but it has been really stressful. Is it any wonder I feel so worn out? I’m emotionally drained. The house is so quiet, I hope Harrison is back, I feel bad for what I said to him, I was just… no it doesn’t matter. There is no excuse for the way I acted.
That’s odd, he doesn’t seem to be here. Where is he? I look in the living room and the kitchen, I even search the dining room but he’s not there. Where has he gone? He’s okay I’m sure. We've only been here one night, no one would have found us yet. Should I go and look for him, it’s not like he doesn’t know the area. Maybe he wants to be alone, for five hours. Yeah because that’s plausible.
I rush back upstairs and throw on my oversized hoodie and trainers and pull my hair up into a messy bun, I grab the car keys and rush back down the steps. I pull the door open and come face to face with H, my god he reeks. He’s pissed, clearly I know where he’s been.
“Henleigh,” he says way too loudly, as he throws his arms out wide with a massive, teeth showing, smile on his face.
“H, what the hell, get in the house,” I say as I drag him inside, looking around to make sure no one is watching.
“It’s s’kay, itsh all good,” he says as he stumbles into the living room and I push him down onto the sofa.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, pulling his trainers off, not that he’s making it easy for me.
He holds his thumb and finger apart, before he throws his arms out and declares, “this much.”
This is ridiculous, I can’t believe he went and got wasted. Aren’t we in a bad enough state as it is? Without him being useless, what happens if someone decided to set this house alight, how am I supposed to be able to get him out?
“Relax Hen hen, its s’kay. Relaaaax,” he leans over so far that he falls off the sofa, with a massive crash.
He is laughing so hard, clearly, he’s fine. I go into the kitchen to get him a glass of water but when I come back out he’s snoring loudly and still in the same position he landed in. Rolling my eyes I go back upstairs and decide to read the letter my dad had given me on my birthday, I’ll tackle the secret one another day. When I’m not so bruised and shaken.
Pipsqueak, okay I know letters are real old school these days but I thought there’d be less chance of me losing this one. We don’t know what will happen when we grow up, you could be a right little brat and we may not talk. No, I don’t believe that will happen but just in case I’m writing this while I still love you. (I’m laughing as I write this, as if a day would ever come where I don’t love you).
I want you to know that I am so proud of you little sister and no matter what happens from now until the day you open this letter, that will never change. You better be eighteen Pipsqueak, if you’re reading this now, I will kick your arse. You know I can still fit you in our kitchen bin, don’t test me.
I need a minute before I can continue, this is so Elliot and I cannot hold back the laugh that wants to fall free. I remember him putting me into a bin once, he said he would and I made the mistake of saying “ you wouldn’t dare,” I learnt to never dare Elliott anything that day, unless I wanted to see it happen.
BY NOW YOU’VE probably realised I’m not the hero you always pictured and I’m not this noble guy who never does anything wrong. The other reason I’m writing this, maybe if you hate me in your time, you won’t hate the version that you remember back when you were a little dot and you had nothing but love in your heart for me.
I’ve done some stupid things Hennie and I’m worried that one day they’ll come back and bite me in the arse, but I can’t stop. I’m do it for me and you, it will always be that way. But now that you’re eighteen and you’ve probably had a boyfriend or two yourself maybe even a girlfriend. Really do not want to be picturing this while seven year old you is running around in your dungarees, I hope you never have a boyfriend but I’m realistic. It will happen and I can’t stop that, but to get back to my point I think you’re ready now. I do hope you already know and I’m not this chicken shit who is waiting for you to open this letter on your birthday to discover my secret, the one thing only my brothers know.
But if I am chicken shit then I’m sorry it’s taken this long, Henleigh I’m Gay. I hope this doesn’t change your opinion on me and I don’t think it will, you live in a world of colour and you belong in the light. Don’t ever change my little sister and know that whatever happens you will always have me and I will always love you.
Happy eighteenth Henleigh, this year belongs to you.
MY FACE IS wet and my eyelashes cling to my cheeks as I keep my eyes shut tight, I’m not sad, not entirely. I am proud of him for being himself, even if he did keep it quiet, but I was young and I may not have understood it back then. I am wondering if any of the others were his lover but that’s just making my cheeks heat, I can’t picture it. And I do not want to either, I have a much too vivid imagination for that.
I think the reason my cheeks are wet is because I needed this, a reminder of the brother I knew. To know the version I remember isn’t a fable from a naive child. He really was like that and even if I am the only one who still sees him in that light, then it will be enough for me.
THE SOUND of groaning reaches me from the living room, may as well be a herd of elephants with the amount of noise he’s making. I shuffle into my slippers before making my way downstairs, it’s only been a couple of hours since he came back and I doubt he’s recovered just yet.
“Alright tough guy,” I say as I drop to my knees beside him.