The longer we wait for an ambulance, the less confident I am that Aria will make it through the night. The faint training I took a few years ago to become Dr. Benjamin Miller in prison leaves my mind, and I can’t think straight. Like a wall had appeared, clouding my judgement, preventing me from thinking straight.
“She’s going to make it,’’ Mom says, but something in her voice isn’t convincing me. She looks at me, and if possible, I break even more. Her eyes are bloodshot, the mascara smudged underneath her eyes, streaks of tears on her cheeks — and they’re still falling freely. “She’s going to make it,’’ she repeats, still lacking conviction.
The sound of ambulance sirens slowly reaches our ears, and I release a deep breath. I swallow thickly, still holding onto Aria’s wrist, monitoring her breathing. It’s shallow, and it’s faint, but it’s there. That’s all I need.
No, that’s a lie.
All I need is for Aria to survive this. I just need her to be okay. Because if I lose one of the most important people in my life, if I lose my little sister, I won’t survive it. There’s no life after her death, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save her. I’d switch my place with her if possible, in a heartbeat. I’d give anything just for her to live.
Please, Aria. You can’t leave me. I can’t lose you.
SIX
My nose adjusts to the stench of the hospital, the sterile scent of alcohol causing me to scrunch my nose a few times. It’s dark outside, and despite having spent the past seven hours in the hospital, it feels like an eternity.
Aria received a blood transfusion as soon as she was brought in, and they were able to stabilize her. Currently, she’s asleep, but she should recover soon. Mom hasn’t left her side since we arrived, and Dad came in shortly after. Seeing his little girl in a hospital gown, surrounded by doctors, hooked on machines to monitor her heart broke him. The man sat on the chair next to her bed for two hours and hasn’t stopped crying since. It’s the silenttears, just like Mom’s — streaming down his face, his body shaking.
I’m sitting on the tiled floor in the next hallway, face buried in my knees. I haven’t moved in a while, and I can’t bring myself to. This entire thing has brought out feelings of hopelessness I’ve never felt before, and I’ve never felt quite as useless as I’m feeling right now.
Why?
Why did she do it? What triggered her to attempt to take her own life? Who the fuck dared to make Aria feel that way to the point of thinking suicide was the only solution?
Underneath all the pain, sorrow, and helplessness is a deeply rooted anger. It boils my blood; it runs through me constantly. I’m angry at the person who did this, and there’s not a single doubt I’ll find out who it is, and once I do, I’ll fucking kill them like the little pathetic pest they are. But more importantly, I’m mad at myself.
I’m fucking furious I haven’t seen the signs in time. If I’d seen it all, I might’ve been able to give her the helping hand she desperately needed. Because I know Aria, and this was a cry for help. One that none of us were able to hear until it got to the point of no return.
I swallow a knot that forms in my throat, my sanity holding on by a thin thread. There’s only so much more of this I can take, and I don’t know when everything will overwhelm me to the point of doing something insane. By the looks of it, I’m nearing the edge of the abyss, and I’m allowing it to swallow me whole.
“It’s all our fault,’’ I hear Dad’s voice in the next hallway over, right outside Aria’s room. “We should’ve seen the signs.’’
His voice is defeated. The man hasn’t been like this in years. I don’t remember the last time I ever heard him sound so… broken. He’s known his strength, both mental and physical, and seeing him like this is just another thing that makes me worry.
“We failed her,” Mom admits, the crack in her voicemaking my heart sink to my feet. “We failed to protect our little girl, Hudson. Where did we go wrong?”
The way they’re both blaming themselves hurts. They are the best parents anyone could’ve asked for. Fuck, they accepted Blair into the family immediately and even did the same for Aria’s friend, Rose.
They brought us up with compassion, understanding, and both of us knew that we could always count on them. They always took on our burdens with smiles on their faces, and not once have they stopped showing us their love and support. Even now that I’m an adult, living on my own, and working, they’re still constantly checking in, even before Blair came into the picture.
The fact that they’re finding fault in their parenting style is gut-wrenching. It wasn’t their fault; if it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. I should’ve noticed it all, yet I didn’t. I focused on finding one important person in my life, and I neglected the other. This is something I’ll never forgive myself for.
I stand up, my footing wobbly from sitting down for too long. I walk around the corner, then stop when the sight of Mom sobbing into Dad’s chest appears in my vision. She’s in a state of distress, the same woman that never looks anything short of put together, composed, and, by all standards, perfect.
Yet, she’s a mess. She’s clutching Dad’s wrinkled shirt, trying to ground herself. He’s hugging her back, holding her as if he were holding onto dear life, his eyes closed. As if sensing me near, he opens his eyes, and Mom slowly pulls back.
“It’s my fault, I—”
“No,” Mom’s sharp voice cuts me off. Her eyes narrow, and although they’re red from crying, puffy and swollen, there’s a threat behind those deep brown eyes. “None of this was your fault. She’s our daughter. Our responsibility. We were the ones who failed to see the signs. If anyone is to blame, it’s Hudson and me. Do you hear me?”
“No,” I breathe out, clenching my fists next to my body. “I’m equally to blame.’’
“Don’t make your mother repeat herself, Arlo.” Dad’s cutting voice makes me swallow, neither of them relenting. “It wasn’t your fault. You’re the best brother, and we’re proud of the way you’ve been protecting her.”
A bitter laugh slips from me. “If I were good at protecting her, this never would’ve happened.”
“Go cool off,” Dad orders, and I know better than to try and fight him on this. “Noah and I will be here. Come back in the morning.”
“I can’t just leave,” I whisper, looking down at my feet. Another wave of tears starts pooling in the corner of my eyes, and I have to fight back the urge to start breaking and hitting things.
