A Devil Named Aidan ✓

Chapter Seven

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"Ow! Jake!" I grab onto his wrist as he sews my brow together, "ow!" He shakes his head as he sews the last needle and ties the thread, and I whimper in pain. I watch him grab the scissors with the other hand and cut it off, he tosses it into the bin and picks up a plaster.

He hasn't said anything to me since, and he gently puts it on before walking away from me. He stands by the computer, flicking through the files, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Are you seriously not going to talk to me?" I slip out.

"What the hell is going on with you Charlie?" He slams the files onto his desk and turns to face me, arms folded in full brother mode.

"Nothing." I lift myself from the bed and grab my jacket, sliding it over my shoulders.

"Clearly something is going on! First you leave the house, and you don't even text me. Then you have me worried all night, I called the police! I thought you ran away!"

"I am twenty-one-not sixteen Jake." It is almost as if I have to remind him of the complete obvious sometimes, he forgets that I am not longer the sixteen- or eighteen-year-old that he left behind.

"You're such a child, do you know that? You could have gotten seriously hurt!" He slumps into his chair, running his fingers through his hair and then down his face.

"Well, all I got was a small cut and a bruise. I'll live Jake."

"I just don't understand, talk to me Charlie."

He had nothing but worry in his eyes, and I was on the verge of wanting to express my entire range of emotions. Jake wouldn't comprehend, though; nobody does.

"There's nothing to talk about because there's nothing wrong, I was just drunk." Drunk on absolute guilt and regret.

"I don't believe that-I know something happened." I grab my gym bag from the ground and sling it.

"Even if i wanted to tell you Jake, you would never understand." Even if I tried to explain to him, he would never get it because I killed her husband, not him, and my mother doesn't hate him for it. She hates me.

"Then make me understand Charles? Make me."

"It's complicated Jake!"

"Then uncomplicate it."

"I can't! Because you weren't in that car!" Jake takes a seat on his leather chair and locks eyes with me, "because you didn't kill him." Tears start to well up in my eyes and threaten to spill, but I try to hold them back as much as I can. "I did, I killed dad and now he's gone!"

Jake's head drops to his lap as he continues to flap his pen around in his hand, and the suddenly deafening silence in the room surprises me more than I anticipated.

"How many times do we have to go through this, you didn't kill him! Stop putting the blame onto yourself." I scoff, wiping a hand down my face.

"I did Jake, I did kill him, and mum reminded me of that every day! You moved out and you left me to handle her on my own, you left me to drown in my guilt-hearing her cry day and night. You weren't there! I was."

He didn't need to know that, and I can't hold my mother responsible for blaming me, so I left that part out. She too had every valid claim. Jake shifts in his seat before rising to his feet, circling around the desk before standing in front of me.