01/11/2016

chapter twenty-three ;

♡

zombie-like, tired, dead, invisible, confused – that was what depression felt like. You would ask yourself questions like, What the fuck am I doing here?

Because we were put into this world to die – to fall in love and have our hearts broken, to form dreams and have them crushed, to lose everything that ever meant anything to us. We were born to live a lifetime of disappointments, if we were lucky, and then we would die. There was no alternative.

I'd never felt so small, so useless to the world – I would never make an impact, would never mean anything to anyone. The cold layer of fog that was depression was beginning to obscure my vision, leaving me blind and hopeless.

In the morning, after a night of insomnia, I trudged to my bathroom. My eyes were nearly swollen shut, due to all of the crying. Now, I believed, I really had cried myself dry. My skin was paler, and my eyes were primarily stormy gray, touched with the bright blue that only tears could turn my eyes to.

Depression rendered you hollow and lifeless. It was a feeling I'd never wanted to suffer again – a feeling I had never believed Benny would bring onto me.

After a moment of silence, I turned on the shower, stripped, and stepped inside. The stream of water beat down harshly and scalding hot, but I did not bother to adjust it. Rather, I allowed the water to flow onto my back, hardly noticing the severe pain. At least it distracted me slightly from my mental pain.

I didn't hear the bathroom door opening, but I didn't flinch at the sound of Luke's voice, light and cautious. "Kayla?"

"Yeah." My voice was dull, dead.

"Are you all right?" Luke's shadow moved behind the white shower curtain, tall and slim. The outline of his messy hair was familiar and warm, but the warmth would not reach me. I could not find comfort, not even in my brother's presence.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I mumbled.

"Bertram told me what happened with you and Benny," Luke explained, lightly. "I don't know if he actually cheated, but . . . if he did, I'll have no choice other than to break his neck."

A wave of pain stabbed into my chest, and I choked back a gasp. "Why would you say that?" was all I managed to spit out.

"Not literally," Luke quickly said. "It was kind of a joke. The kid just lost his mom, but it gives him no reason to go around treating you like shit. I'll be damned if I let it go any further than it has."

"How would you even know?" I snapped, although I could not see him. "You're always at Skylar's house."

"Not anymore," Luke said. "I'll stay home, if that's what you want. You just have to try and forget about Benny, okay? It'll make things so much easier – "

"Would you ever be able to forget about Elizabeth?"

For a moment there was absolute silence, save for the patter of water bouncing from my skin. Then, slowly, Luke asked, "Elizabeth?"

"Yeah, Elizabeth," I grumbled. "She's a lot better than Skylar, and I'd rather use her as an example."

"Well . . ." Clearly Luke was uncomfortable, but it hardly mattered to me. Even beside me, he seemed far away. "No," he finally admitted. "I see your point. Just . . . hurry up and get out, so I can hug you."

Had I felt any spark of life, my lips would have pulled into a smile, however faint. Now all I could do was stare ahead, feeling dead, before turning off the water, pulling the towel from the shower rack, and wrapping it around my body.

Luke was still standing beside the bathtub when I opened the curtain. He met me with sad, soft eyes, and immediately pulled me into a hug, clearly not minding that I was sopping wet.

The fabric of his jacket felt odd against my wet skin, and I worried that I was soaking him, but he only pulled me tighter. The smell of his cologne was mouth-watering and sweet and him, and I returned the embrace, squeezing my eyes shut.

We stood in the same position for what felt like several minutes. Luke's chest rested against my own, warm and now wet.

"You know I'm always here for you, right?" Luke whispered. "No matter what you're going through, no matter if we're mad at each other, no matter anything – I'll always stand by you. And you know that. Right?"

Luke then pulled away from the hug, keeping his arms around me, to look me in the eye. His darker eyes were serious.

"Right?" he repeated.

I released a ragged breath. "Yeah. Thanks, big brother."

"You don't have to thank me, baby sister. It's what us big brothers are for."

♡

Ignoring loads of texts from Ivy, Leah, and all of the Sandlot Boys, I scarfed down ice cream and watched The Walking Dead – a.k.a. my refuge. Luke sat beside me on my bed, stuffing whole Oreos into his mouth. We'd skipped school together for this.

The first half of season six had already been aired – I had not missed an episode – and now we were rewatching it. Episode nine would air in a month, on Valentine's day.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Sam!" Luke shouted, nearly flinging his Oreos everywhere. The boy was repeatedly saying, 'Mom.'

I smacked Luke's arm, frowning. "Shut up, he's a kid, he's scared! He isn't used to seeing all this stuff. That's not his fault. I'd want Mom, too."

Luke raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, but don't go saying anything when he gets his family killed."

Rolling my eyes, I said, "That's not going to happen."

All of a sudden, a loud knock sounded from downstairs. As the episode ended, the knocking became clearer. I glanced at Luke, and he sighed.

"I'll get it."

"Okay."

Luke stood to his feet, brushed away Oreo crumbs, and left my bedroom. As he went downstairs, I moved to stand at my bedroom door, listening closely for Benny's voice. I hoped desperately that he had come to apologize, to tell me he loved me and that he wanted to be with me.

The door swung open, and the knocking ceased, and there was a moment of silence. If anyone was speaking, I couldn't hear them. And then –

"Is Makayla here?"

My stomach did a somersault. The voice did not belong to Benny, but to Jordan Phillips.

"Depends." I could already imagine Luke crossing his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to check on her. I heard what happened with Benny, and she didn't show up for school today, so I was worried," Jordan admitted.

"Well . . ." Luke sighed. "She's okay. For now. We're watching The Walking Dead, though."

"What episode?"

"We just watched the last few episodes of season six, but we're about to rewatch the entire show. Why?"

The smile was clear in Jordan's voice. "I've been meaning to start that show. Makayla talks about it like it's her religion, so . . . if you don't mind . . . I'd like to join you."

"Um . . . she's not really in the mood for, you know, communicating, I think."

"She doesn't have to. I just figure she would like to see someone watch the show for the first time. To see my reaction or something."

I hadn't even been planning to show that I'd been listening, but I ended up at the top of the staircase, nevertheless. "Not everything's about you."

Jordan's eyes flickered upward to land on me, suddenly brightening. He wore a black top and jeans, and his dirty-blond hair was oddly reminiscent of Luke's – messy and layered, but stylish, somehow. The boy noticed the playful edge to my voice, despite its slight monotone, and he smiled.

"Does that mean yes?" he asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Luke edged toward the kitchen, and then disappeared. I rolled my eyes. "Sure. I guess. But only because I love The Walking Dead so much, and I do want to see your reaction. And possibly record it, so the rest of the world can, too."

Jordan was grinning now, stepping inside to close the door behind him. "Fine. But I can't promise you'll get too great of a reaction from me."

"Oh," I smirked – which surprised me – , "I bet I will."

Luke returned to the living room, arms full of more snacks. "We're going to need these. Plus popcorn, probably. And vodka – lots of vodka."

My eyebrows rose. "I'm all right with that."

The older boy fixed me with a flat look. "That was a joke, Makayla."

In response, I simply shrugged.

♡

Jordan stared hard at the screen of my television, seated beside Luke on my bed; I sat on the other side of Luke.

"What?" I asked Jordan, slightly amused at his obvious attempt to hold back any hint of emotion.

"I'm just saying . . . if Andrea gets Dale killed . . . we're going to have problems."

A light laugh escaped my mouth. "You and me, or you and Andrea?"

Jordan pointed a finger at me, accusingly. "Both. You for getting me into this show, only for my favorite character to be killed off in the first season."

"Dale's your favorite?" Luke frowned at the boy, mouth full of Oreo. "Why?"

The blond shrugged. "I don't know, he's just cool. I already know Glenn's your favorite, Kayla."

My mouth snapped shut – I had been about to tell him that. Did I really talk that much about The Walking Dead?

"Glenn's cool, but the best character is Daryl," Luke said. "Total badass. Then again, so is Glenn and almost every other character on the show. Especially Abraham. And Maggie. Takes a tough girl to – "

Jordan threw a hand up. "I don't know who Abraham or Maggie is," he broke in, "and I don't want to know anything about them. I want to be surprised."

A small smile curved on my lips. "Me too."

All of a sudden, Jordan sighed roughly. "Just – go!" He ran his fingers through his hair. "I swear, Andrea – "

"He doesn't die," Luke stated, eyes never leaving the screen of the TV. If he hadn't clearly been the one to speak, it would not have seemed as though he had opened his mouth – except, perhaps, to stuff them with Oreos. He was probably on his man-period.

Jordan's mouth dropped slightly, and then he glared at Luke. "I wanted to be surprised."

Smiling, Luke said, "You can't always get what you want, young one. That's not how the world works."

At this Jordan's features softened. He whispered something like, "I know," and then returned his focus to the show. Andrea had just decided to live, so that Dale could. "Good there, Andrea."

While Luke laughed, my phone dinged, signaling a text message. I glanced at my screen and frowned. A text from an unknown number read:

Is this Makayla? This is Kit. Ivy gave me ur number so I can let u kno Benny is ok. He's been at my house all day only w me. He's sick w a hangover but he'll be fine

My brows rose in surprise – I hadn't expected Kit to actually check in with me. In fact, I hadn't believed that he would keep up with his promise at all.

I texted back rather quickly: Thank you for letting me know.

Internally, I had a million questions, but I held them all back. Less than a minute later, Kit texted back.

U can come over later if u want, for Benny. He'll prob be nicer sober...

Probably, I texted in response, but I'll come. Does Benny know that, though?

I havent told him yet but I'll let him kno. What time u think u'll come?

I'm not really sure, but I'll text you beforehand. Thanks again for telling me what's up.

Kit texted back a smiley face, and I did not reply. Luke stole glances at me from the corner of his eye, and I sighed, knowing that he'd most likely read the conversation. At least I wouldn't have to explain.

♡

Well into the night, around eight o'clock, after Jordan left my house, I showered, changed into a fresh pair of clothes, and walked out into the cold night.

It was one of the coolest days I had ever felt in California, and my only protection was a long-sleeved top, jeans, and the knee-high leather boots Lynn had gotten me for Christmas. The time felt as though it had been ages ago, when, in fact, it had only been little over two weeks. And that meant it had been less than two weeks since Lynn's death.

After Leon, I had thought that perhaps it would be simpler to deal with the death of a loved one – unless it had been a family member. But Lynn practically was my family, despite Benny's argument that I had barely known her for half a year.

Still the surreal sensation enveloped me, as if I were dreaming up the whole horrible truth. I knew it was true – I had seen Lynn's body, had watched it lower into the ground forever – but some part of me awaited her return. Awaited the moment that she would walk through the doors of her home and laugh, because it had all just been a prank, and Benny could pull away from his current mess, and everything would go back to normal. It was my greatest desire.

Lynn had been the string that held everyone together. Without her, we were all lost, trapped in a hellish nightmare.

And the experienced part of me wanted to reassure myself that, one day, no matter how impossible it seemed, the pain would fade. I would never, could never forget about Lynn, but one day she would be a good memory. A photograph or a video of her would not bring pain. The mere mention of her name would not stab at my heart like a thousand needles all at once. One day, I would be able to speak of her and the memories, and I would smile. All that I would feel was positivity and love.

Not now, though. The painful mourning stage would last a while longer.

The walk to Kit's house took at least twenty minutes, but I hardly minded. I felt so numb – although that was better than being doubled over with pain. Lynn – Benny – everything was adding up and crushing me.

Finally, I knocked on the door. When the door opened, an old woman stood before me. She was the typical image of a grandmother – short, snowy hair and wrinkles all over her skin, some caused by years of smiles. She had kind, dark eyes, and she fixed me with them.

"Hello," the old woman greeted, her voice light. "Are you here for my Kit?"

I nearly denied the question – actually I was here for Benny. But what would be the point? "Yes," I said after a moment's hesitation. "He's expecting me."

"Come on in, honey," the woman smiled, moving over to allow my entrance. She had a slight southern accent. "My, my, did you walk here? I don't see no car."

"Oh, yeah," I shrugged, "I'm only fourteen, so I don't have a car or even a permit. I don't mind to walk, though – I get a bit of exercise."

The woman laughed. "You have young legs. It must feel wonderful. I remember when I was your age – so long ago – Anyway, dear, would you like anything? A blanket? Hot chocolate?"

"No, thank you," I denied politely. "I'm okay, really."

"Well, all right. Kit's downstairs, but if you change your mind, let me know, dear."

I flashed the woman the warmest smile I could muster. "I will. Thank you so much."

She returned the smile and touched my shoulder. In a way, she reminded me of Lynn – ultimate kindness from the moment she met me. Lynn had hugged me.

As I made my way downstairs, I noticed for the first time how cold I had actually been. I could hardly feel my feet, and my cheeks and nose felt iced over. A shiver ran down my spine and I shuddered, although it had not been due to the cold air.

The crystal curtain of beads glimmered in the full light; only the bedside lamp provided a source of light, its shine broken by a gray cover. To my left, Kit stood in the kitchen, and he had already turned to look at me.

"Hey," he said, sounding slightly surprised. "I got your text, but you didn't show up for a while, so I thought you weren't coming."

"I walked."

The boy cocked an eyebrow. "Oh. Okay."

My eyes had already gone to rest on Benny. He lay on the couch, just ahead of me, face buried in the deep red cushion. His legs hung off of the edge, leaving him in an extremely awkward-looking position.

"Is he awake?" I asked.

Kit approached me, carrying a can of Pepsi. "He's been passed out for a little while, but he should be waking up any time now."

"I'll wait, then." Slowly, I made my way toward the couch, only to sit down on the floor in front of the arm. Benny's face was turned, but I recognized his hair, and I so desperately wanted to run my fingers through it.

Now Kit stood just ahead of me, and he offered me the Pepsi can. "Thirsty?"

"No, thanks."

He nodded. "You probably need something to warm you up. Um, what about . . . hot chocolate?"

The ghost of a smile tugged at my lips. "Your grandma already offered me that."

Kit's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm so sorry – I didn't even think of her opening the door – "

"It's all right," I broke in. If I wasn't so exhausted, I probably would have laughed. "She's nice."

The boy's lips quirked, and when I met his eyes, I was nearly taken aback. His eyes were so deep and full of emotion, even if there was no reason for it. I felt as though I could look through his eyes, into his soul, and know him. Know that he was kind-hearted, even if he was caught up in negativity.

"You're nice," I pointed out.

Kit's brows rose, and now he was smiling lightly. "You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do."

He said nothing, only smiled, before disappearing through the bead curtain. When he returned, he threw a small blanket over me. It was fuzzy and warm, and immediately I clung to it.

Kit winked playfully. "I knew you needed something."

A soft laugh escaped my mouth. "I knew that, too."

Suddenly there was a muffled groan behind me. I quickly turned to find Benny moving, his head flipping to the side. Now his face was in view: his furrowed brows, his scrunched up nose, his mouth pulled into a grimace, the dark lashes that nearly brushed his cheek.

"Benny," I whispered. "How are you feeling?"

The boy's eyes fluttered open, landing on me. At first he said nothing. Then: "Are you here, or am I dreaming?"

"I'm here," I answered, softly. Then I repeated, "How are you feeling?"

Benny sat up, rubbing at his temples. He stretched, and then looked at Kit, who now stood at the foot of the stairs. "Why is she here?"

Kit frowned. "Obviously she's here for you."

"That's not what I meant," Benny grumbled, and stood. "I need to piss."

With that, he walked past me, leaving me on the ground, alone. I quickly stood, though, discarding the blanket onto the couch, and followed Benny. Before he could reach the door, I stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

"I need to talk to you."

Benny's eyes were not unkind, but he did not look at me the same. Before, the stars in his hazel eyes were constant – it was how I knew he loved me. But the stars had burned away, and his eyes were dark and cold.

"Let's talk." He grabbed my wrist, pulled me aside, and then led me into the bathroom. After closing the door behind us, he let his back hit the door. "I'll let you start."

My heart was beating like the blades of a helicopter. I took a step forward, so that if I reached out I could brush the bangs from his forehead.