Chapter Four

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Pulling the wand out of the tube of my mascara, I begin sweeping it over my lashes when my ringtone makes me jump

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Pulling the wand out of the tube of my mascara, I begin sweeping it over my lashes when my ringtone makes me jump. I screw the top back on and look at my phone, revealing my brother's name lighting up the screen as it continues to ring. My stomach sinks, because I know why he's calling. As much as I love my brother, we rarely talk on the phone. We text every single day, but when one of us calls the other, we know it's something serious.

I take a steadying breath before hitting accept, putting it on speaker and setting it on the bathroom counter while I pick up my mascara and continue getting ready.

"Hey Atlas, what's up?" I do my best to sound nonchalant and unbothered, hoping this isn't the type of call I think it is.

"Hey No, how was your first day on the job the other day?"

"Hm, it was alright, I really like my boss." I refrain from telling him about Declan. I know that would only cause more problems right now and at this point, I just want him to cut to the chase and tell me what's going on.

"Good, good. So, uh, I went to Mom's this morning."

If my stomach was sinking before, now it's completely bottomed out. Nausea sweeps through me, making me have to take a sip of water before I reply, "Alright, Atlas, hit me with it."

"You sure? I know it's a busy week for you, so I can update you another day."

"I'm sure. Just rip the bandaid off already, you're making me freak out."

"She's bad again. Real bad, No. When I got there, I had to use the spare key to get into her place because she was unconscious and couldn't answer the door. I found her passed out on the couch with bottles literally everywhere, and I'm pretty sure she sold more of her jewelry because the box in her closet where she keeps all of it was laying open and there's only a few pieces left that Dad got her."

Tears immediately begin to fill my eyes. I blink frantically, attempting to save the mascara I just applied. I should've known when I got the call to start applying the waterproof one.

"Damn it. I thought she was doing so much better."

"She was, I went there a week ago and she seemed completely fine, unless she was hiding it from me but she never bothers doing that. Usually I go more often but I had a busy week at work this week so it had to wait until today, I'm sorry."

I immediately hear the guilt in his voice, which makes me feel frustrated, not at him, but for him. "Atlas, don't you dare apologize. It's not your fault. If anyone should be apologizing it's me. I'm the one that up and left home leaving you with all the responsibility when I knew what was going on." I can't help but let a tear spill over as I think about the amount of times he's had to tell me the same thing over and over again. I feel a rush of guilt for dreading this call, because he's the one that actually lives it every time. "Do you think we could convince her to go to rehab this time?"

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