8 Seconds

Chapter 12 - Shane

And just like that, it was today. The day I didn't want to happen, but it always creeped up on me unexpectedly. Everything was going well. I had my brace off, my body was healing, and I had a void being filled with someone I least expected it to be. Even if it was a secret.

It was Saturday. The anniversary of my brother's death. October 25th.

Today marked four years since my brother's passing, and every year, it got harder to process. It was just after 2 in the morning and I was down in the basement, walking along the wall of photos. Just like I did after it was six months since he died. A fire was going in the fireplace, the lights were dimmed, and I was hammered. Tears and snot ran down my face, but I didn't move to fix my face. Back and forth, I paced, for hours, looking from the beginning of our bonding moments when I came home from the hospital, in my then mothers arms, all the way to his funeral.

A pamphlet with the service information was on it, right next to a shoreline of his pictures. I had a tea candle for every year that had passed. This year I had placed 4 of them for the occasion.

I had shut everyone out all of yesterday into today. I haven't left the basement since. The door is locked from the inside, so there was no way anyone from upstairs would get in. This was my hole. My space to hide from reality. The last place I was when we fought.

Sniffling back another sob, I looked at the clock, reading 2:40am, the exact time my father came into my room that night and told me that Derek was dead. Collapsing into my rocking chair, the tears uncontrollable at this point. Squeezing a pillow to my face, I screamed, every nerve ending in my body screaming with me from the lack of oxygen. Over and over, I gulped air in, and screamed it back into the pillow. My throat was being scratched raw from it all, but I didn't care. The pain wasn't stopping.

Throwing the pillow across the room, I stood pouring myself another glass of Whiskey, on the rocks; just how Derek would take it. Breathing heavily, the tears making my vision blurry, I tipped the glass back, and swallowed the contents, burning the scratch on my throat. Hissing, and belching, I coughed, the whiskey burning its way down my throat making my skin feel fuzzy and warm.

Reaching for the bottle and pouring another, I see slight movement out of the corner of my eye near the stairs. Everyone knew not to be down here. This was my time, my place. My hole to be inside of, and debate if I want to come out.

Looking over to the staircase, she sat there on the second to last stair. Eyes brimming with tears, her hands folded in her lap, she watched me. A single tear fell down her cheek. Standing slowly, she took a step to me, and I took a step back. Her eyes connected with mine, she kept walking to me, I kept taking steps back. My foot caught on the pillow I threw and tripped, falling on my ass with a thud.

"Fuck!" I barked. My drink spilled all over me, the tears unstoppable. I wailed, my hands came to my face, covering the embarrassment of my face from her. I hated that I did this to myself every year, but the pain was too unbearable for me to stand. I couldn't take it anymore. I heard her sigh, and kneel down to me, gently taking my wrists in her hands.

"It's okay to be vulnerable, Shane. I got you." Allison whispered. She must have brought a towel with her, as I felt her wipe my face of tears and snot. I couldn't see anything but I knew she was there. I couldn't talk, my throat was somehow dry from the constant crying.

Fisting her shirt, I tried shoving her away. She barely moved. Standing her ground, I was over a foot taller than her, and she didn't fucking move.

"Allison." I hissed, every muscle in my body shaking from the hysterics. "You're not supposed to be down here."

"Hard of hearing." She whispered. Her hands began to snake themselves up and around my neck, only for me to pluck them right off me taking two steps back, wobbling as I did so.