Deadlines

Deadlines: Three

Chapter Three: edited!!!!

I had always wondered what my first tattoo would be. Never, not once, had I thought that it would be the date of my brother's death. Who would ever think that?

I lay on the couch, my head in grandma's lap as she runs her fingers through my hair. We're both silent. We were both listening to the wails and sobs of my mother in the other room. I was back to not being able to breathe, like the afternoon I had heard the news from Detective Michaels. It felt like my throat was slowly closing in on itself. It was only a matter of time before it closes completely.

All I know id that there's no cure for this newfound loneliness I feel. It's the type of loneliness that can't be fixed or lessened, the loneliness you can't shake. It's the loneliness of a less than perfect heart. The loneliness of one bring ripped into two. Losing a family member is one thing, losing your twin brother is a whole other thing.

I was so tired. Grandma's fingers running through my hair was so soothing. I could sleep for days if I wanted. But I couldn't go to sleep yet. I had to wait until Dustin got home.

It was like grandma read my mind. She cleared her throat and wiped under her eyes with her free hand. "Payton, sweetheart, why don't you go upstairs and get some rest? You haven't slept in a few days."

"I can't go to sleep until Dustin gets home," I tell her.

Grandma frowns and leans down to kiss my forehead. "Go to bed, Payton." I didn't argue further with her. I pull my body off the couch and stumble forward. My body felt like dead weight. "I'll bring you up something to eat," Grandma continues. "I'll leave it on the nightstand beside your bed." I could hear her sniffles, the slight waver in her voice hinting that maybe her lips were quivering a bit, too.

Dragging my body up the stairs was probably one of the hardest things I've done all week, besides trying to breathe. Walking down the hall, passing Jillian's room, all I heard was silence. The only sound that's been traveling throughout our house has been Mom's sobbing.

I miss the sound of Dustin's obnoxiousness.

I sat on the floor at the end of my bed, picking up the remote and hitting the power button. I needed more sound. It was too quiet and the silence was too loud. I kept the volume on low, hoping the sound of the anchor man and woman's voices would give me something somewhat normal to fall asleep to. The wood floor beneath me was cold, but the cold was beginning to fade already. I was back to being numb.

My eyelids began to droop shut. The tightness in my chest started loosening. My ears began to mute all sound around me and all I could hear was the soft murmur of the new people from my television. I heard the buzz of my cell phone as it vibrated on my desk top. I'm surprised it hasn't died yet. It's been sitting there all week. Even if I hadn't fallen asleep right then, I wouldn't have gotten up to get it anyway.

***

I woke up barely three hours later. The six o'clock news strumming through my ears. The television wasn't what had woken me up. It was the slight burning sensation at the back of my neck. Tingling, burning, like coals that haven't completely cooled from a fire the night before.

I rubbed my neck, fingers tingling when they met my skin. I was starting to sweat. Pushing myself off the ground, I made my way into the bathroom, putting my hair into a ponytail in the process. I stood with my back facing the mirror as I craned my neck to gain sight of my back.

4 . 21 . 15

I couldn't believe it. Two tattoos in less than a week, meanwhile it took me a whole eighteen years to get my first. And what the hell did this one mean? I mean, I get the first one, but this? Another date? I ran into my bedroom, eyes focusing on my calendar. It's today's date?