It centres me.
“Try to follow my breathing, try to match it, and focus on my heartbeat. Count every single one of them until you feel that weight come off your chest.”
I try, I really do, but it’s so hard.
“Close your eyes, Sash.Focus.”
It takes a second, but eventually I close my eyes.
Calm slowly washes over me, leaving me with a sting from what I can only assume is the aftereffects of adrenaline. That horrible feeling starts to fade, leaving me reeling and in dire need of a long nap.
I’m exhausted.
I’m worn out.
I just want to fall into the grass and let it consume me completely.
My hand falls from Claire’s chest, and when I open my eyes, I see her looking at me hopefully, “thank you.”
She smiles, “I get them too, not so much anymore, but trust me when I say I know how you feel.”
Nodding, I turn my head to see everyone else sitting around us. They’re sitting in a circle, all facing me, all completely quiet while they wait for me.
All of them showed up.
They saw Lucas drag me away and they followed.
One look at Lucas tells me he regrets what he’s done, and while I’m angry, I can’t help but find a sliver of understanding.
He was trying to protect Claire.
His methods were fucked up, but his heart was in the right place… for her.
No one says anything for a while, they all watch me, waiting for me to say something.
I owe them some sort of explanation, a reason as to why I freaked the fuck out. They deserve to know the truth, and I think I’m finally ready to give it to them.
Even after finding out that I was there that night, that I knew what happened —even after the fact— and that I was friends with him… they’re here.
They showed up for me.
They didn’t leave.
“I killed my brother in September, he’s gone because I was driving.” It comes out as a broken whisper.
The words are hard to get out, but once I say them, I know I can’t take them back. This is my reality, and I need to start coming to terms with it.
I killed my brother.
I did that.
For better or for worse, this is my life, and either these people will accept me, or they won’t.
Claire speaks up from beside me, “I miss my dad, sometimes I still pick up the phone when he calls, but I don’t say anything.” She stares at me for a moment, “I know I shouldn’t, he could have killed me —almost did a couple times— but that little girl that just wanted her dad to love her, takes over when I see his name.”
She didn’t say the words, but then again, she didn’t have to for me to understand. Her dad used to hit her, andthe story behind that scar on her face becomes a little clearer.
Lucas stares at the ground, “my dad used to beat my mom, and sometimes I still hate her for staying for so long.”
