Ryan's Bed

I scooted back until I felt the wall, flipped back the bedcover, and patted the place next to me. “Scootch in.”

He looked to the door again, indecision on his face, and then let out a small breath. His tiny shoulders slumped as if he’d lost what little fight he had. He sank into the bed, clasping the covers tight over his shoulder, and looked at me, lying on his side. I moved closer, mirroring him so our foreheads almost touched.

We didn’t talk, but a fresh tear welled, pooling on the bridge of his nose. I reached over and smoothed it away.

“Mom and Dad are going to be gone all day today. I checked their phone calendar.”

How Robbie could do that, I had no idea, but I wasn’t surprised.

“Why aren’t you crying?” he whispered.

“I can’t.”

He nodded as if this made perfect sense. “I wish I were like you sometimes. You’re the strong one, Kenz.”

Strong? Was that my role in the family?

I tried to muster a smile, but I knew I failed. I probably looked like the Joker instead. “Can you sleep?”

“I’ll try. Can we stay here all day?”

“I’m going to try.”

That seemed okay with him. He closed his eyes and a settled look came over him, one that resembled peace. But I knew it was a lie. There was no peace. Not anymore.

“Hey, Kenz,” he whispered a minute later.

“Yeah?”

“Happy birthday.”

It was dark when I woke again, and Robbie was gone. The door was open, and I could hear the sound of silverware scraping against plates. The smell of food must’ve woken me, and for a moment, I was cross.

They could’ve closed the door. But then the fog left my brain, and I realized it was probably Robbie who’d left it open. He had a habit of doing that, and it always annoyed Willow.

Willow . . .

The small grin that had tugged at the corner of my mouth fell away.

God.

I drew in a rasping breath, and this time, I knew I couldn’t keep the thoughts at bay.

It had been a weird smell. A rich, rusty smell, like wet metal. It made my stomach cramp, and I’d been biting my lip even before I opened the bathroom door. Willow’s arm had gotten scraped earlier when we were moving boxes around the house. If she’d opened her bandage and dumped it onto the counter, I was going to be pissed. She was always yelling at me for leaving my toothbrush and paste on the counter. Everything had a place in her world, and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why I didn’t remember that.

My answer was always the same: because I wasn’t an anal, obsessive control freak. That usually angered her, but this time, I was going to be the one to explode. Willow wouldn’t know what was coming her way. I was going to wave my arms in the air, stomp my feet, and yell like I just didn’t care.

She knew how much I hated blood.

But then I was there, pushing the door open.

I don’t remember when I realized what I was seeing. I suppose I felt something, because they told me later that I went into shock. My body shut down, and I left it. They said this could happen when a person experienced a traumatic event, but all I knew was that I watched from the doorway as my body fell to its knees.

My hand covered my mouth, and my shoulders jerked like I was throwing up. I learned later I’d been screaming.

Then I was shaking her, sliding on the blood on the floor, because it was everywhere. Thinking about it, I could feel it on my hands again. Warm. Liquids were supposed to be refreshing and cool. This was heavy. It felt no different from my own body temperature. I didn’t like that. It should’ve felt different. Because it was Willow’s, it should’ve felt perfect.

I stood in the doorway as I watched myself. And I kept screaming, until suddenly, I stopped. I choked on a sob, and like that, I was back in my body.

My face: dark eyes, golden blonde hair, heart-shaped chin.

My body: slender arms, long legs, and petite frame.

My heart: beautiful, broken, bleeding.

All of it on the bathroom floor in a bloodied pile.

Feeling a weird serenity, I gasped on a breath and moved next to Willow. I sat on the tile the blood hadn’t touched yet. But it would. It was seeping out of her.

I knew she was already gone. Her eyes were vacant, but I wanted one more moment. My sister and me.

I lay down, just like her.

On my stomach.

My face turned toward hers.

My hand on the floor, palm up, mirroring her.

I watched over my sister one last time before we were discovered.

There was a flash of light. Someone was coming in through my bedroom—Mom. I didn’t look up at her. I couldn’t hear much. A dense cloud came over me, dulling my senses, but I heard her screaming, as if she were far away.