Every Bright and Broken Thing

Chapter Forty-Three - Liam

The whole world spins around me as I sit here on the bathroom floor of Oscar's house. Theo sits beside me against the wall, head back, eyes closed, face drawn tight.

When I can finally breathe again, I ask Theo to leave the room so I can get dressed. His head turns slowly and he looks at me. Without a word, he leaves and closes the door behind him.

Hands trembling, I pull myself together and bring myself to my feet. I start toward the door, but stop when I catch my reflection in the mirror. My face is bloody and swollen, my eyes puffy and red and all the light has gone out from them.

Numb, I grab the busted doorknob and open the door. Theo waits right outside, staring down at me. He seems taller, but maybe it's me who seems smaller.

"We need to get you to the hospital," he whispers.

I grab my jacket from the bathroom counter and wince with the pain as I pull it on. "It's fine," I say. I start past him, but he puts an arm up in front of me.

"No. It's not."

I can't bring myself to look at him.

"I'm taking you to the hospital. Even if I have to drag you there." And I don't doubt that he could.

Eyes on the ground in front of me, I give a slight nod and whisper, "Okay." Then, the world collapses out from under me as everything goes black.

When I wake, it takes some time to pry open my eyes, but one of them is swollen shut. So, with my one good eye, I take in my surroundings. After a moment, I realize the blinding white light is the glare of fluorescent hospital bulbs. My neck won't move, but out of the corner of my eye I see Dad kneeling on the floor beside my bed. His arms are sprawled across my torso and the side of his face is pressed against my bedside. His eyes are closed and his lips move inaudibly.

As I shift, the movement catches his attention and he bolts upright. Our eyes meet and I see the relief and the grief all mixed in one. He moves closer and brings his head next to mine, takes my hand in his.

"Dad..." My eyes burn and brim with tears.

"Shh..." With is free hand, he brings it to my head and gently strokes my hair. "You don't need to say anything, son. Just... try to rest."

I clench my eyes shut and swallow the lump in my throat. Fear, shame, anger all bubble up inside of me. I don't know what to feel, but right now I just want to stay here like this and let him hold me like when I was a kid.

So, we do. For a long time. Dad lets his head fall forward onto the bed and takes my hand in his and I close my eyes, drifting in and out of sleep for a while. At one point I wake up and hear him say that Ezra's on his way.

Ezra's on his way.

The next time I wake, Ezra's here. He and Dad both sit in chairs by my bed. Ezra looks even worse than Dad; his clothes are tattered and every exposed inch of skin is covered in a layer of dirt. He looks skinny too – skinnier than I remember him being.

I stare at him for a long time before he notices I'm awake.

"Liam?" he says, voice gravelly as if he's been screaming for a long time and only just run out of breath. He stands and starts to move toward me, but stops himself.

I scoot up to a seated position. I don't take my eyes off of Ez, afraid that, if I blink, he might disappear again. Part of me is angry at him. Angry that it took something like this for him to come back. Part of me is grateful. Grateful that, after everything, he actually came.