Chapter Three

a tear slid down my face.

"you know what you did is wrong, right?"

i spoke softly, sounding congested with my stuffy nose.

no answer.

i gently laid my head back against the cedar door. i heard shifting and footsteps on the other side of the door. my disappointment grew as i heard the rustling of his covers. he had gotten in bed.

i shot up from the ground and began banging at his door. i felt the sadness melt away and turn into anger, rage.

"you're just as bad as as josh, dylan!"

no answer.

stared at the ceiling.

"dylan, we promised eachother. we vowed to never use it! God, you're a monster dylan! you hear me dylan! CAN YOU HEAR ME DYLAN!"

i ran off into my room and slammed the door shut. i threw myself onto my bed and shoved my tear-soaked head into a pillow.

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"...she gave us so much joy." my mom grabbed a tissue off the podium she was speaking at. "The short 9 years she was here were filled with happiness, and-" her voice cracked and she closed her eyes to stop the tears from flowing.

"i-we.. " she stepped away from the podium and placed her hand on the nearby urn, decorated with flowers on a stunning glass table.

"we miss you bec, and we're so sorry we let you down." she tossed her blonde hair out of her face and sat down.

"it hurts, Corey.

my dad wrapped an arm around her shoulder and my mom nuzzled into him.

i stared at the night sky from my room. a long day of people becca barely knew sobbing over her. a day of people giving their condolences and sub-par food. i laid back in my bed. i felt numb. scared, almost of how normal i felt. i was hurting so much it didn't feel like anything. i stared up at the ceiling. i looked at all the grooves and bumps in our popcorn ceiling wall. each little hump, covered in even smaller bumps. it made me think there's so many people out there and they all have their own issues. but each hump makes the ceiling what it is. our problems make us who we are. our unique struggles make us a society. but what if the humps on each little detail could just be ripped away and little bumps grew back? killing doesn't stop your problems, it makes them multiply.

"Eva"

i snapped out of my ghandi moment and saw my brother standing in the doorway.

"oh, hey dylan."

he was still in his suit and tie from the funeral. his curly brown hair was thrown on his head like a rats nest.

"how are you doing?"

"i'm fine, dylan" i picked you my phone and started started scrolling though instapic.

"you didn't seem fine a few days ago."

shoot. i must've left my poetry book in the bathroom.

"Dylan-"

"hey. that's your business. but i was thinking..."

he sat down on the bed.

"i don't ever want to kill anyone. i know i've joked about killing but i don't want to, Eva. i don't want anyone to feel like we do. i'd never wish this on anyone."

he looked down.

"Sycher Sibling swear we won't *ever* use it, ok?"

i stared at the wall.

"Sycher Sibling swear."

i swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to speak. "I-"

he pulled me into a hug and i melted. all my emotions had been bottled up until this moment. i broke down in his arms, i was sobbing, i looked a wreck.

he was silent except for,

"we'll be okay, Eva. i promise."

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i woke up to a cold splash on my face.

"Fuck!" i shot up out of bed, still in last nights clothes.

My dad must've heard me because he popped in not long after that.

"Hey kiddo, there a pipe leaking in the house so watch out for water, ok?"

i glared at him.

"will do dad. will do."

I got up and got dressed. today was an exciting yet depressing day. this was the day we got to visit mom in the hospital. she's not allowed home because of her intense treatments so we get to visit her around once every two weeks. Her chemo isn't working so they're stepping it up a notch.

I put on a pair of cuffed blue jeans over my slim pear shape, and a Panic! at the disco graphic tee. As i looked at myself in the mirror. i chucked a little. i knew how happy she'd be to see my shirt. she was a HUGE panic fan. Her and Becca loved it dearly, and each song is a different memory of Becca for her.

I threw my curly brown hair into a bun and grabbed my foundation.

growing up, i loved my freckles. Now i hate them. Why? because josh always used to say,

"i LOVE your freckles, Eva"

each dot, each speckle needed to be gone.

each little thing HAD to go. not to be dramatic but, if i had every foundation bottle in the world it wouldn't be enough to cover what he did.

i wanted to avoid my brother on the way out so i quickly flew down the steps and out into the car, but before i got in i was stopped. Polly was standing in front of the car with a plate of cookies. i stopped at the door and rolled my eyes and sighed. Time to get my social skills together.

"Hi Eva!" polly said as she waved. for some strange reason, her middle aged mom dialect caused her to drag out the "a".

"Hi, Mrs. Statten" i said giving a weak smile. All i wanted right now was my mom. not my shitty brother, not some weird ass neighbor, i wanted my mom.

"Dearie, Heres some cookies for you guys" she handed them to me looking very proud of herself "*I* made them myself."

"Um, Mrs. Statten, I'm allergic to eggs..."

i trailed off towards the end out of fear that i would burst out laughing.

"Well, i'll just take these back then!" she said alongside an awkward laugh.

"Yep."

"Anyways have a good visit! tell your mom i said hi." she tiptoed over our muddy front lawn in her stiletto heels.

i couldn't help but snicker.

she shot back towards me and said annoyed,

"Very funny, Eva"

Made my day a lot better.

I was interrupted by my dads booming voice.

"Alrighty kiddos, time to go!"

I sat in the passenger seat of our 2120 Honda accord. I leaned my head against the chilly window, lined with dew from this morning. my brother sat in the back seat, on his phone. How was he so casual about this? He killed a man and had zero regrets. This was not the Josh i knew. My dad leaned over and put his pale hand on the volume dial. A small yodel came from the speaker as he was turning it up.

"Oh, i love yodeling!" my dad said turning it up almost full volume.

"Dad-" i started but was cut of by an accordion solo.

it's hard to be melancholy with happy yodel music playing so i lifted my head away from the window.

i peeked back at my brother. he was still on that damn phone. great, now i sound like a mom.

after around fifteen minutes, we arrived at Gatersville Hospital. Gatersville was the best hospital for cancer treatment in all of Minesota, having some of the best doctors and scientists as part of their staff. Mom has had cancer for around a year and a half, so i know most the the nurses pretty well.

My dad dropped me and my brother off at the Pratt Cancer Ward, named after the extremely rich man who funded it.

"i'm gonna go park the car kids, i'll meet you at the food court."

me and dylan got out of the car and headed in the humongous glass building. The Pratt Cancer Ward had a different field than the other wards of the hospital. all the other wards, such as cardiovascular or maternity, were designed like a library. Quiet, eerie and intimidating. The layout was all over the place and very hard to

navigate. The Pratt Cancer Ward however, was organized and easy to find places. when you walked in you got a blast of cold, refreshing air conditioning in your face. you saw workers and parents holding hands and playing with small, bald children. Sickly parents having quality time with children. To see so many sick patients should be a sight from a horror movie, yet it was almost comforting. people came to this hospital to get better, not worse.

"Do you wanna know why i did it , Eva?"

I stopped in my tracks.

"What?"

"Do you wanna know why or not?"

i hesitated.

"y-yeah. i do, dylan"