“Hey, squirt.” I keep my voice soft and low, not to startle her, as I take a seat on the chair where Rose was a few minutes ago. “How are you feeling?’’
The silence is overwhelming. Her soft breathing is all I can hear, and it hurts me to see her like this. Her hair is neatly brushed through, falling down her mid-back in soft waves. Mom hasn’t stopped brushing her hair or braiding it. It’s her way of silently connecting to Aria again, trying to let her know that we’re here, that we’ll always be here.
Slowly, Aria turns her head to face me. A few strands of her hair frame her face, falling down her cheeks. She looks at me, and for the first time since she’s been hospitalized, hope flutters in my chest. Because she isn’t looking through me, she’s actually looking at me.
“I’ve seen better days.”
I take her hand in mine, rubbing soothing circles on the back of her palm. Her body tenses for a moment, and something in me breaks even more at that. Soon enough, she relaxes, just looking at me. Her eyes — the exact same ones as mine — look at me with so much pain behind them.
A lone tear slides down her face, her eyes getting glossy. Gently, I take my thumb and wipe the tears from under her eye.
“Don’t cry,” I whisper. “None of this is your fault.”
“Then whose is it, Arlo?” She whispers back, a crack in her voice that I’ve never heard before. “I was so stupid,” she says through a sob. “So, so stupid.”
“No,” I cut her off before she can speak again, my voice resolute. “You’re far from stupid, squirt. You’re one of the most intelligent young women I know. None of this is your fault, and I can’t have you blame yourself.”
She looks at her lap, her tears falling on our intertwined hands. She grips my hand tightly, body trembling. For the first time in my life, I’m seeing her like this. Raw, vulnerable, and a shell of the little girl I used to know. She looks so small, in so much pain, and I don’t have any way of taking it away from her. If I could, I’d take all the pain and experience it myself, just so she’d never feel it a day in her life again.
“I am so sorry.” The simple words make me swallow down tears, and the more I look at her, the more I’m crumbling. “I’m so sorry. This was the most selfish thing I could’ve done. I was trying to escape it all, and in the process, I didn’t think how it would affect you, Mom, or Dad. I’m so sorry, Arlo.”
Immediately, I pull her into a tight hug. Her face is buried in my chest as she cries, and I don’t stop the tears that freely flow out of the corner of my eyes. My hold on her tightens when she clutches my shirt desperately, trying to ground herself. Her body trembles, and I have to take a deep breath to prevent myself from breaking right then and there.
“No, squirt,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t apologize. I’m so sorry for not noticing it sooner. I’m so sorry for failing to protect you.”
Aria only hugs me tighter, and I don’t let go. We stay in the tight embrace for what seems an eternity, and even that eternity isn’t enough. Slowly, Aria pulls back, eyes red and puffy from crying. She wipes the tears with the back of her trembling palm, then takes a deep breath.
“I’m not going to force you to tell me what brought you to think that suicide was the only solution, but,” I pause, looking for the right words. “You need to talk to someone. I’ll find you the best therapist.”
“The doctor says I should be discharged tomorrow, but they will send me to the psychiatric wing for observation.”
I nod. “Yes, that’s the usual procedure. Are you alright with that?”
Aria shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”
She sees the reluctance on my face and offers a soft smile. She takes my hand in hers, squeezing it, her way of trying to reassure me. “I promise, I’ll be okay.”
“Please, never do this again.” I bite the inside of my mouth, feeling the taste of blood on my tongue. “Please, just come and talk to me. To Mom, Dad, or Rose, anyone. Please, never do this again.’’
“I won’t,” she promises, but there’s something in her eyes that makes me halt. “If I wanted to tell you about this… Would you listen without judging me?”
It’s fear.
She’s scared I’ll judge her, and I fucking hate myself for it. What have I ever done for her to think I wouldn’t be in her corner? She could go on a killing spree, and I’d still be on her side, always in her corner. Always.
“Always, squirt. Always.”
Aria starts talking, and all I see is red. Her face is emotionless, but silent tears stream down her cheeks. The more she’s talking, the closer I am to going and finding the motherfucker who did all of this to her.
She doesn’t leave out a single thing, and I can’t help but blame myself. Months ago, Blair brought attention to the bruises Aria had, and back then, my sister claimed they were caused by injuries during her volleyball games. Even Blair could see through the blatant lies, but I, her own brother, dismissed them.
I fucking hate myself for not noticing it sooner.
“I’m going to kill the motherfucker, Aria,” I grit out.
Panic flashes through her eyes, and she clings to my hands. Desperation fills her, and she pulls me toward her. She’s staring right into my eyes, hers widening.
“No,’’ her soft plea causes me to pause. “You won’t kill him.”
