Chapter Twenty-Eight

This is a crisis of faith, the insidious thoughts and regrets that would turn you away from the path you have always walked; and towards a no, untested one.

Perhaps if you had accepted such second-guessing and resolved to follow a different method, it would have enlightened you, and providence would have lifted a torch to illuminate the best path forward.

Yet when you made your decision and reaffirmed the path you had always steered Chloe down, endeavouring to be the hand on your shoulder, pulling her away from misfortune and guiding her down the path of prosperity, it was done out of devotion.

It has always been an unorthodox way to have one's brother assume such a paternalistic role in one's life, and it must be something that Chloe has difficulty coming to terms with, that she loves you as her brother but obeys you as one would a parent.

The anger you had felt was misplaced; it was the shock of an unsettling discovery, it was the stresses you suffocated throughout the workday, it was the rage you had felt at your incompetence, exploding into an inferno of emotion that would have you lash out at the ones you loved.

In its place, however, was a coolness; whilst you would not call it comforting nor an enjoyable experience, it did clear your head.

Chloe has pushed herself against the other end of the coach, as furthermost from you without running off; her eyes narrowed, her hands clenched into fists, and her legs brought up to her chest; you don't know whether she'd start screaming or crying.

Probably both, knowing that she inherited her mother's temperament, which was better than you; since you've been plagued with wrath, the same as your father.

Your voice is measured, not cold, because that would imply your emotions were negatively inclined or at least absent.

"I am angry, Chloe, furious even, but not because of the tattoo."

You take a deep breath, reaffirming your decision to express what was once always left unsaid overtly.

"I am angry that you undertook this without seeking advice from your mother or me; it is the fear that one day, you'll make another decision on your own, and I won't ever know what happened to you, a genuine fear in Night City."

Your words are stiff, each as artificial as your glowing eyes that stare into your sisters' green; you've never been good at polite conversation, even more with your family when talk turns to your emotional failings.

It is straddling a line of emotional vulnerability and authority, a careful balance that leaves your sister confused, anger dimming as she tries to decipher your words; and figure out why you haven't started screaming and grabbing her.

She doesn't understand, and of course, she won't; your mind is alien to all but those with access to your psychological profile in Arasaka.

Your hand reaches out to the squat coffee table; a hunk of compressed sawdust and splinters sold for cheap, coloured stains and paints marring its polished exterior; a nostalgic reminder of Chloe's more artistic childhood.

Atop that squat table was a stack of eurodollars, tied with a rubber band, the numerous bills worth twelve-hundred now being used as part of the conversation, held in your hand, as your sibling stares at the money, a slight envious look tainting her otherwise innocent appearance; a reminder of how this city corrupts everything pure.

"This is for you, Chloe; regardless of the tattoo, I was always going to give this to you, do you know why?"

You'd like to swear, but you can't because this is meant to be a teaching moment so artificial that you can't even default to your everyday slang and mannerisms.

"Cause I got a B in my last maths test?"

It was a B- but that's beside the point; shaking your head in a negative, you correct the girl, not over her usually mediocre academic results, but the true answer to the question you gave her.

"This isn't a bribe, Chloe, regardless of what you think; like those headphones, I bought them because you wanted them, I'm giving you this money because you need it; I'm hurt you never told me about your tattoo, but I know there are some things you have to do, that you don't want us to know about."

A flash of guilt crosses her face, her eyes lowering as you guilt the girl, offering her trust when she has perceived herself as already breaking it; it is blatant emotional manipulation but also comes from your heart; you took out a fair chunk of your savings because you trust her.

You put it back on the table before resuming the conversation, your hands interlocking with one another as your forearms rest on your legs, head bowed slightly down as you turn away from the woman, instead focusing on the chunk of change.

"I know I haven't always been there for you, and when I am; it's usually to criticize you, to discipline you, to bend you over my lap and give you the spanking your mother-"

"YES- YES, I GET IT!"

You look at the girl disapprovingly; her face flushes red as her watery eyes linger on your face before turning away; her voice is hot with embarrassment and annoyance.

"Chloe, you know I do it because I love you; discipline comes in many forms, and sometimes I need to lay my hands on you, but I always try to be gentle, and I-"

"C-can you go back to being mad at me, please?"

You can hear the groaning pain in her voice, the girl lowering her head, nestling it behind her lifted knees and folded arms, trying to hide from the world; letting out a few muted sniffles as humiliation strikes deeper than insults.

"Do you hate me, Chloe?"

You interrupt her sniffles and muted complaints with a question, a blunt one that's enough to have the girl pull away from her self-induced sobbing session to look at you with a tear-streaked face, lower lip wobbling.

"No!"

"Then you are one of the few who don't."

You don't like waxing about your past or your problems; you have always kept them vague and distant to Chloe and Emm- Mother, they have their problems, and most importantly, the man of the house shouldn't be according himself like a petulant child.

Something your drunkard of a father failed to do.

"I joined Arasaka to pay the bills; to pay the rent and utilities because I saw mom wearing herself away at a menial job; to afford you clothes that weren't tattered and food that didn't come in a can."

You can see the girl lower herself, her back bending forward, her head slowly returning to its hiding position beneath her legs and arms, shame and guilt beating her down with the subtlety of a baton.

"I don't want your thanks, Chloe, because it was my decision, but I want you to know that if I were brought back to that choice, I would choose you over Amanda again without hesitation."

You never told her why Amanda stopped coming over after graduation, why you or mom never mentioned her again and maybe learning about the background to your breakup is what broke the dam.

You could hear the sniffling turn into sobbing, the girl overcome by a multitude of emotions, all from different sources; the pain in her arm from your grip, the adrenaline wearing off, the guilt of her position and sympathy for your plights.

You move closer to the woman, wrapping your arms around the woman, a hand nestling on the side of her head as the girl opens up and reciprocates your touch.

Steering her head to your chest, you bring her into your protective fold, marvelling at how small the girl is, belatedly realising that you've treated her more like a daughter than a sister, constantly fretting over her, spoiling her when the opportunity arose.

She can hear your heartbeat, its presence against her; her crying softens into sniffles as hiccups amplify her stilted breaths.

It was never a question in doubt that you would take care of Chloe, the same as Emma; you were groomed into this role; a position you stepped up and took well before your graduation.

Perhaps your childhood parentification was a significant part of why you acted the way you did, why you didn't want to give Chloe freedom; and let your little girl out of your grip; your arms tightening around the girl as you rest your left cheek on the girl, letting out a soundless hum as the girl settles in her new position.