My eyes slowly track down her arms to the bottles of medication lying over her blankets and the pill container I threw that’s now teetering near the edge of the bed.
Empty. Weeks of supply gone.
“Ella.”
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
And she’s still dead.
32
Lynx
The air is cold against my skin as Dylan runs around me in circles, giggling, hitting my legs with a stick to try and provoke me into chasing him.
I always bring him here after work. He’s cooped up in the house or at school for hours, but just having him out here by the water, fresh air, a smile on his face, makes the long days worth it. I’m not working for me. Not really. Every hour I spend at the tracks is more food on the table for my brother. More time for us at the house before we get put out onto the streets.
He giggles when I try to catch him and runs off down the grass mound, hiding behind the big oak tree. Following him, I ignore the muck covering my uniform and my fallen cap.
“Catch me, Lynx!” he yells, screaming a laugh out as I pretend to nearly grab him and fake a fall to the ground.
After getting to my feet, I brush off my pants and go to run after him again, but my eyes widen, my breath catching,a scream trapped in my throat as Dylan runs in front of a moving Eldrith Company train and?—
Gasping for air, I shoot up in my bed, sweat covering my skin like I’ve been trapped in an inferno. Our shared room is small and dark and damp from the downpour we’ve had for weeks—the windows don’t keep the water out, and the walls are paper thin. Every week that passes without Dylan getting sick is a miracle.
Mom chokes from my left, a bucket filled with… I sit up and lean over to get a better look. “Is that blood, Mom?”
“Go back to sleep, Lincoln,” she says, trying to bat me away with her arm. “You have work tomorrow.”
I rise from the bed and pull her tangled hair from her face as she vomits up more blood. The strands are starting to mat, but she refuses to let me brush them out or get someone in to help.
Her chin is stained crimson, even after I wipe it with a damp cloth. “You need to see a doctor if you’re getting worse.”
“I’m fine,” she lies. “It’s your brother you should be worrying about.”
I frown. “What do you mean? Dylan is fine.”
My eyes lift at the sound of someone else hacking up blood. My heart stops when I see Dylan on all fours, vomiting onto the ground, gagging and crying before his voice turns hoarse and deep. When he raises his head, red, demonic eyes stare back at me before he grits his elongated teeth and runs at me and?—
Sable holds my face as my eyes ping open. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” she says repeatedly, brushing her fingers through my soaked hair. “It was just a bad dream.”
Relief pulls at me. My face is in her hands, and she’s littering my forehead, nose, and lips with kisses to calm me down. It works. My heart rate slows, my breathing settling, and my eyes close as she rests her head on my chest and cuddles into me.
“Sorry,” I say, tracing circles on her bare shoulder.
“Dylan again?”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “Always. It’s like he’s haunting me.”
Humming, Sable tilts her head to look up at me. “It’s understandable. You were the reason his life went to shit, after all.”
I frown, my finger freezing on her shoulder. “What did you just say?”
Her brows knit together with confusion. “I said the dreams should calm down soon. We only buried him a week ago.”
