The Good One (The Ones)

“Aiden is going to stay out there for as long as you’re here. I’m sure the story is going to break any second and we don’t want either of you bombarded by the vultures.” He winces a little and gives us an apologetic look, knowing that he just referred to reporters as vultures. This one is full of sensitivity, isn’t he?

“Jackson, I appreciate Aiden is out there to keep people out, and I appreciate you wanting to make sure we’re okay. I do not, however, appreciate your presence at the moment. You were being stalked by a fucking psycho who then targeted my sister. You and your brother were so concerned with both of your reputations that instead of calling the police like I wanted, you tried to handle this yourselves. None of this should have happened and I realize you're as much of a victim as the rest of us, but goddammit, I can’t look at you right now without blaming you.”

The louder my voice gets, the more he curls in on himself. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m being completely unreasonable at the moment, but I can’t help it. In this moment, when we’ve all just endured something so traumatic, I can’t help but want to place the blame on him. Maybe spread a little more of this never-ending guilt around too.

“Kasey, I am truly sorry I brought this person into your lives. I get wanting to blame me. I blame myself for all of this too.” He nods and turns on his heels, walking out the door.

I feel like an asshole. I’m sure he feels responsible, especially seeing as how his brother was shot by his stalker. Nope, not going there right now. I’ll pack that away with the rest of the shit I have labeled as ‘not to deal with today.’

“I don’t blame him, Kasey,” my sister tells me. “I was the one working on a story about him that go me noticed by a stalker I didn’t know he had. God, it sounds even crazier when I say it out loud.” She shakes her head and rests it on my shoulder.

“We’re gonna be okay, Lindsey. Promise.” I hold out my pinky like I used to do when we were kids. She links it with mine, and we stay like that until she falls asleep. My mom comes back and quietly enters the room, seeing Lindsey asleep on my shoulder.

“How ya doin’, sweet girl?” She tries her sweet and calm voice on me, and if it weren’t for the lines around her eyes, I would swear she looks just as she did when we were sick in bed as young girls and she would come check on us.

“Been better, Mom.” I give her a sad smile. “But we’ll be okay.”

“Of course you will, honey. You always are,” she replies.

I know she means that reassuringly, but all I can think is I have no idea how anything will ever feel better again.