Sex, Not Love

Not in the living room or small dining room.

The bedroom door was wide open.

Nothing.

There weren’t many more places to look in the small house.

Not in the yard.

I walked down the hall that led from the back door to the kitchen and found the bathroom door closed. Facing it, the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

Fuck. I’m making myself crazy.

I took a deep breath and knocked. “Jayce. You in there?”

No answer.

I knocked one more time, and the door pushed open as I did.

I froze.

My breathing halted.

The earth shifted, and a fault line ran up my heart.

No.

No.

“Nooooo!” I screamed.

I rushed toward my brother’s limp body hanging from a rope tied to the ceiling fixture. He’d removed the light to reach up to the beams in the rafters.

Panicked, I lifted his body to give the rope slack.

His eyes were open and bulged from their sockets.

His lips and face were blue.

Dried blood stained the corners of his mouth.

But I refused to believe it was too late.

“No!”

“No!”

“You can’t...”

I held him for the longest time, not wanting the rope to tighten around his neck.

I couldn’t let go to get something to cut him down.

I couldn’t let go to call someone to help.

I couldn’t let go to check if he had a pulse.

I couldn’t let go.