Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks 2)

My cell pings with another message from Tris and I don’t

even bother to look at it. There’s no point because I won’t answer it and put him or the kids in any more danger than they’re already in. Especially now I know what happened after I left. She was committed to a mental health ward and stayed there for a year. That means she was unstable, but is she now?

I can’t help thinking she is, because any normal person wouldn’t do what she’s doing.

Standing up from my bed, I walk over to the window, watching the sunset in the distance. It doesn’t take long for my eyes to be drawn to the house again. I don’t know how long I’ve stayed here and stared at the house, but I know I need to go back in there one final time.

Tonight is the cutoff point and if she hasn’t reached out, Dad will be booking flights for us to catch in a couple of days.

If she is here and she sees me going in there then she’ll make herself known, of that I’m sure.

My feet are moving and before I know it, I’m standing on the porch of the house opposite ours and ringing the doorbell. I instinctively know I’m not going to get an answer so I try to open the door, it creaking under the pressure. I’m surprised when it opens considering it doesn’t look like anyone has been here in a while.

Stale air greets me and I wave my hand in front of my face as I squint to try and see through the darkness surrounding me. The curtains are closed, furniture covered in sheets. They haven’t lived here for a long time. The thought rolls through my mind, but that doesn’t stop me from stepping toward the staircase, my hand gripping the rail that’s covered in dust as I walk up the stairs.

I haven’t been up these stairs since the last time I checked on her.

My breathing turns into pants and I will myself to keep it together as I get to the top of the stairs and to the last door on the right.

It doesn’t matter how many times I squeeze my eyes shut and wish to go back to that night, nothing I ever do works—it doesn’t change the outcome and it won’t bring her back.

I take a deep breath before I push the door open and step inside, a sob bubbling up when I see her name on the wall in pink letters—Avery—and the white cot with the mobile above it, gently swaying from the movement of the door being opened.

Managing to make it to the rocking chair in the corner of the room before my legs give way, I crumble down into it, letting all of the emotions out I’ve kept locked away for all of this time. I didn’t realize I was doing it, but now I’m back here, I understand I was trying to cover my wound instead of letting it heal in the open.

I never should have run away all those years ago, but they say everything happens for a reason, and had I not left, I wouldn’t have met Tris and the kids, or… Nate.

God, Nate.

What must he think of me? I up and left without a word—he doesn’t even know where I live.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I rest my chin on them and stare at the cot, wondering how my life could have been different had she not found where I escaped to. I could be playing with the kids, laughing with Nate, eagerly both awaiting and hating the next surprise he had in store for me. But instead I’m here, hoping to find answers I’m not sure can ever be retrieved.

My gaze moves around the room as I stand up and frown, wiping the tears from my face. In here is nothing like downstairs, in fact it’s the opposite. There’s not one spec of dirt.

Has she been coming back here to clean this room?

My fingers trail over the side of the cot, not picking up any dust but being this close to where Avery used to sleep has sobs bubbling back up my throat.

Everything from that night flows through my mind: giving her a bath, singing lullabies to her, making her coo, and dressing her in a pink onesie. My fingers touch my lips as I remember placing a kiss on the top of her head, her soft baby hair tickling my cheek.

She was so full of life when I placed her in her cot, running my palm down her front as she started to doze off. It was only thirty minutes later I checked on her and she was still fast asleep, but most importantly—she was still breathing.

Why is the world so cruel? How could it happen so fast and for no reason whatsoever?

I squeeze my eyes shut as the sounds of her screams reverberate around my head. I could hear them from my bedroom only minutes after I entered it, ten minutes after last checking on baby Avery.

My legs give way as the tears stream down my face, nothing able to stop them. My knees hit the floor as I stare at the rocking chair.

I should have been sitting in here watching her. I would have been able to see her take her last breath and bring her back to life.

Rationally I know it’s not my fault, but that won’t ever stop me from blaming myself for not being in here with her.

Oh God, she died alone. She died alone.

“Dad’s on the late shift so I thought we could have a movie night.”

I turn around on the sofa, my blanket slipping off my lap as a grin spreads on my face.