Page 161 of Break Me

“You didn’t,” he says, softer now. “You never did.”

I smile, but it’s fading, the edges of it slipping as the sound of his voice settles into something steady and low.

“I remember,” I murmur, though the memory is already blurring at the edges.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You got halfway up before one of the boards gave out and you slipped⁠—”

His voice continues, threading through the quiet, filling the space around us in a way that feels safe, familiar, like something I can just rest in.

I don’t try to follow every word.

I don’t need to.

The sound of him is enough.

My fingers loosen where they’ve been curled into his shirt, the tension easing out of them little by little as my body finally gives in to the exhaustion I’ve been holding off all day.

His hand stills for a second when he feels it. Then it starts moving again, slower this time.

Steadier.

His voice drops even lower, the words softening at the edges as he keeps going, even when he knows I’m not really listening anymore.

I let myself drift off, held in the quiet rhythm of his voice, the warmth of him at my side, the steady presence that’s always meant nothing bad could reach me as long as my brother was close enough to stop it.

And for this moment, I let myself pretend that’s still true.

Samuel

I hear the knock before I’m ready for it. I knew it was coming, but I’ve been pretending, avoiding. Opening cabinets, closing them again, checking the same things twice without needing to, like if I keep my hands busy long enough, I won’t have to think about what today is.

From where I stand, I can see into the living room. The television’s on, some daytime talk show playing in the background. Raven’s on the couch, curled slightly into the cushions, a blanket pulled over her legs, her head tipped toward the armrest in a way that tells me she didn’t mean to fall asleep.

The coffee table in front of her still holds the plate I made earlier. Her lunch is untouched. A glass of water sits beside it, the condensation forming a ring against the grain of wood.

I can’t take my eyes off her. There’s something about the stillness, the quiet way her chest rises and falls, the way the world keeps moving around her while she’s slipped out of it for a while, that makes something in my chest pull tight.

The knock comes again.

This time, I don’t wait. I cross the room and pull the door open.

Two people stand on the other side.

A woman, mid-thirties maybe, dark hair pulled back, her expression calm in a way that feels practiced, and a man beside her holding a bag.

The woman offers a small, professional smile.

“Hi, you must be Samuel,” she says. “I’m Laura. I’ll be helping coordinate Raven’s care.”

Helping.

Her words land wrong, but I nod anyway.

“Yeah,” I say, stepping back. “Come in.”

They move through the house like they’ve done this before. Like they already know where to go. I follow a step behind, my attention splitting between them and the living room.

Raven stirs awake when they enter.