I stood there for a moment, breathing in slowly before stepping closer.
Seeing their names carved into stone hit harder than I expected. It made my stomach turn.
I stopped in front of Matt’s marker.
“Hey,” I said quietly. “I’m really mad at you.”
The words came out rough, but honest.
It felt wrong talking to a piece of stone instead of my brother. Matt would’ve interrupted by now, cracked a joke, told me to stop being dramatic. The thought made my throat tighten. I would’ve given anything to hear him cut me off one more time.
I shifted my weight, staring at the clean lines of his name. It had only been a month, but Mom had already made sure everything looked taken care of. Neat. Orderly. Like she could control at least that.
The memories surfaced.
???
Flashback
Age 12
I remembered the cold first.
The brick wall at the side of the school was rough and unforgiving against my back, scraping through my hoodie as I was shoved into it. The sound of my shoulder hitting echoed sharper than it should have, loud enough that I worried someone might hear, but no one ever came to this part of the building. That was why they’d dragged me there in the first place.
Two eighth graders. Bigger. Older. Smelling like sweat and cheap deodorant. One of them had his forearm pressed across my chest, not enough to choke me, just enough to make it hard to breathe. The other stood too close, grinning like this was entertainment.
I remember thinking, stupidly,Don’t cry.
Like that was the worst thing I could do.
My face felt hot. My throat burned. I was angry. Angrierthan I knew what to do with, but the kind of anger that turns inward first. The kind that makes you hate yourself for being smaller, weaker.
“C’mon,” one of them said. “You gonna do something or just stand there?”
I tried to shove him back. My hands hit his chest and slid off uselessly. He laughed and pushed me harder, my elbow scraping against the brick. The sting came a second later, sharp and bright.
I tasted blood. I don’t even remember biting my lip.
And then Matt was there.
He didn’t announce himself. Didn’t yell across the yard or draw attention. One second it was just me and them and the wall, and the next there was a shadow cutting between us.
“Hey.”
Matt’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was solid. Steady. The kind of voice that didn’t need to shout to be heard.
He was fifteen then. All elbows and knees, still growing into himself, but already taller than both of them. His shoulders filledthe space like he belonged there. Like this was exactly where he was supposed to be standing.
“What’re you doing picking on a kid who’s half your size?” he said.
The arm across my chest disappeared immediately.
The eighth graders stepped back, sudden and cautious. I saw it in their faces, the recalculation. Matt had that effect on people. He didn’t look scary. He just lookedcertain. Like he knew exactly who he was and wasn’t afraid to take up space.
“He started it,” the big one muttered.
Matt didn’t even look at me. His eyes stayed on them, calm and unimpressed.
