21. Brayden

Chapter twenty-one

Brayden

M r. Stiles no doubt thinks I need to walk and clear my head before I speak to Bexley.

I don't.

I need to walk and clear my head because I've finally accepted something that has been brewing for the last week.

I'm hot for my fucking teacher and I'm pretty sure it's not one sided.

He makes me feel like I can do anything.

He has a way of taking me away from all the problems in the world when we're together. The ice is where I find that feeling, but outside of it, the only thing that provided that sensation was being lost in a tight hole. Mr. Stiles presence does it alone.

The familiar dark cloud that hovers above the trailer park is noticeably powerful as I approach. The muddy, dead grass zaps all my energy as soon as my feet touch it. At the highest point in the park, my trailer sits, covered in rust and green moss. Similar to the rest of the trailers.

One part of me hates being here. I hate everything about it. I hate the views. I hate the smell. I hate the dead feeling it gives you inside, but then another part of me relates to being here with Bexley. It makes me think of the times I spent growing up with him, the overwhelming love he gave me, and his relentless commitment to providing me with a happy childhood.

I hope he's home. My conversation with Mr. Stiles made me realize that I can't abandon him, regardless of what happened between us. I can't turn my back on him. He stood by me through thick and thin, never abandoning me even in difficult times; if anything, he risked his own safety to protect me.

How can I turn my back on him?

As I open the door, a cloud of smoke and the scent of old alcohol hits me. My mom's small, curled-up frame catches my eye as I glance to the left at the stained sofa with multiple holes. It's evident from her stained clothes she hasn't done laundry in weeks. My initial reaction is to always help her. The number of times I've had to shower, dress, and feed her has become impossible for me to keep track of. But now, I do nothing. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that she was no longer my mom.

Bexley can count on me to be there for him because we are brothers. A mother's primary responsibility is to shield you at all costs, but eventually, she changed. Instead of her two sons, she chose drugs and involved her own son to sustain her addiction. In the same way she betrayed us, I turn my back on her and move toward my old bedroom. Bexley's bedroom.

The moment I walk in, the smell overwhelms me, and my eyes begin watering. Alcohol and God knows what else assaults me. Bexley is fully clothed and lying on the bed, holding an empty vodka bottle.

With a sigh, I shake my head and make my way to the bedroom window, opening it to allow some air inside. I quietly sit down at the end of the bed, being careful not to wake him. I fix my eyes on his vulnerable and messed up state. I cannot walk away, but I refuse to stand idly by as my brother slowly destroys himself. I try to think of ways to help him while running my fingers through my hair and massaging my head, but I've encountered this before. I've been here time and time again. Without money, there is nothing I can do. I can't help him. It's up to him to help himself, even with venom coursing through his veins. He needs to try.

Gazing down, I see a white plastic bag that is filled with something. I bend over, snatch it, and open it, revealing a bag filled with candy.

Not any candy, but my favorites. All my favorites, but none of Bexley's.

I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale deeply, attempting to manage my emotions. Just like old times, he went out and brought back all the things I love. I put my hand in and pull out my number one candy. Nerds Ropes. My smile widens as I see he's brought me all the Nerds favorites—Nerds Ropes, Clusters, Rainbow Candy boxes in grape and strawberry flavors. No one knows me as well as he does. As I bite into the Nerds Rope, the rainbow flavor transports me back to our childhood. Despite never having money for candy when we were kids, Bexley claimed the cashier liked him and gave it to him for free. Every time, he made me wait outside while I gave him a long list of candy I wanted, and without fail, Bexley would bring out everything I asked for. It wasn't until a few years later, when Bexley was too sick to go to school, that I stopped being easily fooled. I wanted to make him happy, so I went into the shop and began filling my bag up. I wanted to make sure the man knew I was Bexley's brother, even though I'm sure he could tell simply by looking at me. The cashier was dumbfounded when I approached him, bag overflowing with candy, and explained that it was all right because I'm Bexley's sibling.

Bexley was not favored by the cashier at all. He had no idea who Bex was, or that Bexley was stealing the candy every single time. I suddenly realized that Bex only kept a few candies for himself, which was nothing compared to the pile he would give me. Despite sharing mine with him, he always ensured I had the most to eat.

That was the thing with having a mom like ours; she didn't care that at the age of ten; we were roaming the streets doing what we wanted after school. She barely paid attention. There was always some kind of food in the trailer. Whether it be moldy bread or crisps, but Mom didn't always make us dinner. We would have to root around in the cupboards and try to find something for ourselves.

There were moments when choosing candy was the safer choice for us.

We were happy in those moments. Bexley's full face and chubby cheeks become visible in the images. He looked healthy, alive. I glance over my shoulder and see his face now, gaunt and pale, giving him an ill appearance. His cheeks, once full of life, are now sunken. Bexley no longer had any interest in hanging out with me after a certain point. He stopped going to the park. Despite everything, he never stopped bringing me candy. Tucked away in our shared room, we found solace while enjoying candy.

I drop the Nerds Rope; the taste becoming sour. It doesn't taste as it used to anymore.

My attention is drawn to an object on the nightstand—our book, accompanied by our UV pen. I get up, walk over, grab the book, and return to the end of the bed to sit down. It's an old one, one that we completed.

Has he been reading these? It's amusing to me when I flip through the pages and they appear untouched. No words written on them, but there are. There's an entire story written between these pages. Full of love, hurt, and pain. A whole insight into someone's life.

To many people, this is an unused diary.

To both me and Bexley, it's our whole world.

I shine the light on a couple of pages; the words bringing happiness to me in this moment.

I feel sick Bray I wish Mom wold give us somefin to make it better like she used to

Ew I don't It tasted like poo.

maybe I had to much candy.

I dont fink so candy is good for you they woldnt make you sick.

really

yeah nerd ropes have beries and grape and strawberys in dem.

my teeth hurt.

prob cos u havnt had enuf candy

I run my hand over my mouth, attempting to muffle my laughter and prevent Bex from waking up. I talked about some shit when I was younger. I glance at the end of the book and see that the page is turned down like a dog's ear. When I shine the UV light, the text becomes difficult to read at first. The writing is scattered and chaotic. Writing blindly can be challenging, which is why this sometimes happens.

Writing fragments are cluttered across the entire page.

I'm going to get better, Bray. I promise.

Please don't let go.

Please don't close the door on me.

Please come back. I'm sorry.

I need you.

BB for life.

My best bro.

Fuck poison.

Fuck Bexley.

Tears well up in my eyes as I read further. Witnessing him write messages to himself filled with self-hatred and thoughts of death. Messages saying if he was dead, I would be able to get on with my life. A tear slips out when I abruptly close the book, startling Bexley. With a bang, the empty vodka bottle slips from his grasp and crashes to the floor, his bloodshot eyes fixated first on me and then on the book.

"Bray." His voice sounding gritty, causing yet another tear to escape. Bexley follows my tears and frowns. I rise from the bed and position myself next to him, sitting down beside him. I cup his face with my hands and bring our heads together.

"If you believe that your death would improve my life, you are mistaken," I grit out. "If you're gone, there's nothing left of me. Do you grasp what I'm saying? If you die, you may as well take me with you." As he nods, a tear rolls down his face.

"I'm sorry, Bray," he manages through choked words.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said what I did."

"You were right, though. I am fucking up your life."

"Without you, Bex, my life would be a complete mess." I close my eyes. The image of not having Bexley in my life feels void. My life wouldn't be worth living anymore. "You cared for me growing up. You were my mom and dad in one. You gave me food, you ensured my safety, you showed me unconditional love. I will never abandon you. We will beat this."

"Bray," he sobs, "I just want to live." I embrace him tightly as he sobs against my chest, his shoulders quivering. "I want to live for us. I don't want to feel like this anymore. I want to see life the way I used to. I want to see how beautiful life is. How do I make it stop?"

With tears leaving my eyes, my body trembles as his cries become louder. Tears stream down our faces as I tightly hold on to Bexley, my hands trembling. I lie down, pressing Bexley close as he wraps his arm around my waist. Our large frames barely fit on the small bed, but I embrace him until his crying-induced exhaustion gradually sends him to sleep. I weep silently, tears soaking the pillow beneath me. Despite my muscles aching, I can't bring myself to let go of Bexley. I need to hold on to him a little longer.

The words I just want to live keep echoing in my head.

I can't lose him, and it's as if he's slowly slipping from my grasp. I need to do something now before it's too late and I lose him for good.

Because if I did, I don't think I would come out on the other end.