“What?” she answered, slurring her words. All sympathy I’d had moments before disappeared completely as I took in her inebriatedstate.
“Wake up!” I demanded, shaking her limp body. “Quinn and Grace need to be fed and bathed, and Kyle hasn’t come out of his room in days. Is anyone checkingonhim?”
“You.”
“Me what?” I nearly screamed inresponse.
“Do something,” she said, then turned over and awayfromme.
“Me? These are your damn kids,notmine.”
She didn’treply.
“How many of these pills have you taken?” I asked, as I grabbed the bottle and shook it. There was a healthy amount remaining, and my anxiety easedslightly.
“Notenough.”
“Mom, please,” I begged. “You’re not helping Jake like this. What if he comes home and finds youlikethis?”
She turned over to me, her eyes droopy. “You don’t get it, do you? He’s dead. Jake’s dead, and he’s nevercomingback.”
“Jake’s dead?” Quinn screamed, his eyes open wide inhorror.
“No, Quinn. No,” I said, grabbing his trembling hand and steering him from the room. “Goddammit, Mom!” I yelled, before slamming the dooronher.
The minute we got into the hall, Quinn collapsed onto the carpet, repeating the same two words: “Jake’s dead?” I tried to console him, but he was a quivering pile of tearsandsnot.
“Don’t listen to her, Quinn. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Jake is alive, and he’s going tocomehome.”
“Why would Mommy say that?Where’sJake?”
Not knowing what to say, I just scooped Quinn off the floor and held him in my arms. A noise caught my attention, and I looked up. Kyle was leaning against his door, eyes bloodshot and the bandage over his stitched face torn off. Dried blood stained his forehead. Had he pulled the stitches out? And his hair… he’d choppeditoff.
“Kyle, come here,” I said. “What haveyoudone?”
His wild eyes met mine. I scanned his nearly naked frame. Only a pair of boxers covered him. He looked emaciated. Kyle turned to shut his door on me, but I stopped it with my foot and forced mywayin.
The smell hit me first. The strong odor was clearly feces and urine. Kyle was using his and Jake’s room as a toilet. Jesus. What was going on in that headofhis?
The knife was the second thing I noticed. It sat on the floor surrounded by Kyle’s hair and splotches ofblood.
“What is happening?” I asked, my voice cracking in emotion. “What have you beendoing?”
Kyle didn’t respond. His eyes were downcast. I noticed cuts on his body. A nasty sickness brewed in my belly. My God, how long had he been left wallowing in his own filth with only a knife for company? If someone didn’t do something quick, I’d be burying another brother. But who was there to help? Mom and Dad were useless, and Keith hadn’t been home in days. I had no idea where to even begin. Kyle’s problems were beyond me; he needed help of theprofessionalkind.
I walked slowly toward the knife, but Kyle caught on and lunged for it, gripping it in his hand as if it were his only friend. Still holding a whimpering Quinn, I backed away, not even remotely secure in Kyle’ssanity.
“Put it down,” Idemanded.
Quinn, who’d had his head buried in my shoulder, now turned to look, and terror transformed his perfect features. “Put it down, Kyle. What are you doing?” He started crying even harder now. I didn’t blame him. It was what I wanted todotoo.
“You’re scaring him. Just drop the knife. You need to come out of this room. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll make yousomefood?”
“No.”
“It’s going to be okay. Please, Kyle, put down theknife.”
“It’s not going to be okay,” he said, in barely more than a whisper. “You didn’t see what I saw. Nothing will ever be okayagain.”
