22. July 1st

22

July 1st

S ome days drag on longer than should be humanly possible, but we have finally made it home.

Well, to their home.

I jump off the bike and wait patiently.

"Why did you go to prison?" The question catches him off guard. The helmet he has just taken off of me falls onto the driveway. It rolls a few times before stopping in the grass.

"You don't know?" he says the words as he walks away to retrieve the helmet. "Why are you asking me anyways?"

I'm not sure why I am. But there is something about the way the question caught him entirely off guard that makes me want to know the answer even more.

"I'm a hot head, Mark did something I didn't like, and I beat his ass for it. They decided to try me as an adult. Period." He still isn't facing me. He places the helmet on his bike and starts walking to the door, he doesn't wait for me.

I jog lightly to catch up. Why is he lying to me? He's not even doing it well. It's as if this conversation was so unwarranted that he didn't have the time to think up an act.

I chase him up the stairs. I watch as his bedroom door swings shut, but I don't stop. I barge in.

He's somehow managed to already get his shirt off and my eyes zero in on the exposed skin.

He isn't tattooed on his chest, but it is littered with scars.

Cigarette burns. Thin white lines skittering down his chest. Two thick puckered scars across his abdomen.

I step closer and I don't think, I simply act. My hand comes up on its own accord, tracing the marks.

It is a testament to his suffering.

"What happened?"

I see indecision war on Axel's face. No longer does he remind me of Tripp in any way. This is a different man entirely. They may be twins but they have lived entirely unique lives.

Axel is a jigsaw puzzle that has been taken apart one too many times and now the puzzle is taped together. Except the pieces aren't right and the image isn't clear.

" What happened? " My fingers follow a long, puckered piece of skin up his abdomen, I don't stop.

"I'm a scapegoat. That is all I am good for." The words hit me in the face. My hand stutters on his chest, over his heart. It beats sharply. His large hand covers mine. His emerald eyes pierce into mine. They are open and clear. He is once more speaking without words. Willing for me to just understand.

"What do you mean?" How did it feel to go away for a crime you didn't commit? Maxwell's words echo around my brain.

How easy would it be to go to jail for someone else? What if that person looked exactly like you?

Tripp couldn't have. It's not possible.

My face must show the horror I am currently feeling because Axel's lips curl cruelly.

"I think you may have found your answer. I loved my brother. He had a future, a full scholarship, a girl he loved. I didn't have any of that." The words are laced in pain, anger, guilt. "The fucked up thing? If I hadn't done this for him, he would probably still be alive." He bends down, our hands drop, his forehead presses to mine. "But that won't change anything. What ifs are the most painful part of life. Because you know what, Sunday? Nobody actually gets a do over. They just get stuck in an endless loop of the same fucking pain. So, my suggestion to you? Enjoy every. Fucking. Moment. Because one day? You're going to look back on this instance, on every single memory, and wonder what you could have done differently. Well, I am here to tell you, humans are creatures of habit. We always end up making the same mistakes."

Another lie, another secret.

Vinegar.

That is how I feel. Exactly like vinegar.

Sour, acidic, fermented .

My heart is threatening to make its way outside my chest, my breath comes out in pants.

"Calm down, it's okay." Axel is both my undoing and my savior. He attempts to pull me out of the panic attack as it begins to overcome my senses.

His warmth leaves me as he goes to turn his bathtub on. He returns slowly and starts to undress me.

I don't fight him. I don't care.

He picks me up in his strong, stable, secure arms and carries me to his bathroom. The tub is almost ready.

The bathtub is clean.

He places me gently into the water. I hiss a bit as my skin grows accustomed to its heat.

"It's going to be okay, Sunday. You are going to get through this. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for."

I don't argue with him. I simply lay back and hold my breath as the water begins to fill around me.

When it covers my face entirely I pretend I can breathe.

I push my chest in and out in the fa?ade of air.

I miss Auggie and Tripp more than I thought would be possible. I imagined every day would get a little better, but that's not how this has been going at all.

Every day is entirely different. I feel like I walk through different stages of grief and pain throughout each hour. These volatile emotions do not make sense or have any rhyme or reason. They are a beat that slowly fades to the back of my mind until something snaps it forward again. One minute I feel almost happy, but then the next I can't escape the pain of their absence.

The water ripples as I let the last of my air out.

My memory skips back to the space center. To the stairs I almost fell down. To Tripp catching me.

It jumps to the roof where we kissed, where we watched the stars, where he said he loved me.

It skitters a beat to my bedroom where I gave him every piece of myself. Where I promised I would always wait for him. Where I told him he was the only one for me.

It stutters to the present. Where I broke my promises, where I began to allow others into my heart. Because that's where Grayson, Axel, and Darius have slowly crawled into.

My heart.

I may not be in love with the men, but I care about them deeper than I wish to admit. Because the last two people I cared about so desperately?

My vision darkens and just as I lose consciousness, I feel Axel's sturdy hands tugging me up and out of the water.