𝑹𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒍𝒆 | ✔

8 | Fragile

LOTTIE SLAMMED HER car door shut, then trudged down the pebbled path and stopped. Her house was before her, looking especially inviting as she shivered in her oversized coat. When she looked down at herself and realized, she shrugged the coat away, tossing it aside. 

It would only remind Lottie of her brother. It was his, after all. 

She sniffled, dropping down to the first porch step. 

"You never loved me, anyway, and today proved it." As she kicked at stray pebbles, she mumbled incoherent words. "I'm not your sister, so why would you? And I'm not related to Aunt Rena, either."

My life is a lie. 

Suddenly, her phone chirped to life, indifferent, and she chuckled dryly. 

You're right, this won't work, the text read. I wish I had realized it before, but at least I do now: you've never been anything like a sister to me. I won't make that mistake again. Don't you ever come back. 

-

Present-tense

Lottie, holding the handheld mirror up close, smiled behind it. Her light layer of foundation, dab of blush, and hint of mascara were done nicely. It had been a year since she'd entertained her face with any makeup. After setting it down, though, her smile slipped. 

Why do I need makeup, anyway?

Lottie nearly went about removing it, wipe in hand, when she collected her purse and sighed. If anything, it would just give her an older appearance. Her brother may have been a few inches taller, but she would always be the older sister. Even if they weren't related. Without makeup, she found herself often correcting others that she was in fact an adult; not a measly minor. 

Still, this was a one-time thing, Lottie reminded herself. 

A beat more and she was outside, consumed by the orange-tinted evening, a sunset overhead. As she began for her car, eyes narrowed, possibilities ran through her head. 

At the end of the day, she would either be elated, the past behind her, or in ruins; it was all up to her brother. Either way, she was done avoiding him. 

It was time to move on. 

-

Paper crinkled in one hand, Lottie clutched her purse with the other as she continued down the long hallway. From time to time, she'd eavesdrop on passing conversation, but would be gone too soon for context. All the while, she made out the smell of soap and detergent. When she finally arrived, she stopped in front of Room 34 and listened in. 

There was no movement, but the distinct smell of brewing coffee was answer enough.  

She knocked. "Eliott, open the door! I know you're in there!"

Slow steps drew near, then stopped. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a disoriented-looking Eliott. When his gaze met hers, though, he straightened. "Lottie, is that you?"

"Well, what does it look like?" she asked, raising a brow. "Are you that drunk or... high?"

"No, no," he said, holding a hand, "I'm not."

"Really?"

"Just tired." He gestured for her, stepping aside. "I was starting to lose hope."

She gave him a passing smile as she entered, but then it dropped. "Eliott, we've got a lot to talk about. I waited three days, but I can't wait any longer." Suddenly, she whipped around and caught his eyes. "Let's get this over with, little brother."