PULSE [H.S]

095

"You can't go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending." — C.S. Lewis

I'm exhausted.

Emotionally, I am completely drained. The rollercoaster of emotions that I've experienced in the last 24 hours is insane. Now that things are back on track, the weight of all of it is hitting me.

We're driving home, and I look out of the window as the scenery passes us by. Harry drives us home, speeding down the roads.

The biggest thing weighing on me is that I wish I could have done what we did for Jackson for my sister. I should have fought to get Rae into that home after I turned 18. She would still be here if I tried harder to make sure she was safe.

The foster system is so fucked up. I hate it so much, and I hate that I lost Rae to it. The system took her in, chewed her up, and stole her from me. If the system actually did its job and prioritized the safety and well-being of foster kids, shit like this wouldn't be so common.

I just miss her. I feel selfish for having had such a great foster family while she struggled with hers so much. I wish I could have traded places with her. I'd give up my safe place for her any day.

Harry grabs my hand, holding it in his own. He squeezes it, letting me know that he's here. I wipe my tears away, sniffling as I process all of my emotions.

He says, "I'm glad he'll grow up there."

"Me too," I agree. "It just sucks how many kids don't get lucky enough to find a safe home. I wish I could go back in time and trade places with my sister."

Harry squeezes my hand again. He says, "We can't help everyone, but we helped Jackson, and that's something I'll never forget. He won't forget it either."

I ask, "Was it weird being back there and seeing them?"

He nods. He says, "I'm glad I got the opportunity to apologize to them, and I liked seeing how much they love you. It reminded me that everything happened the way it did for a reason."

"They love you too, you know," I point out, and he gives me a small nod. I ask, "What happened to your parents?" Harry tenses, his whole body stiffening. I say, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He's quiet for a few minutes, and I let the silence linger. It's up to him if he wants to share that part of himself with me. I've never asked about it, but I want him to know he can talk to me about it if he ever wants to.

He says, "My mom was a beautiful person. She was caring, selfless, and strong. I don't have a lot of memories of her, but the ones I do have are all perfect. My dad was a drunk. He would come home from work and drink until he blacked out, and he was an angry drunk. He would hit me and my mom, break shit, and yell at us."

I squeeze his hand as he clenches his jaw.

He says, "One night he was driving us somewhere. I remember seeing him drinking before we got in the car, and I still don't understand why my mom would let us get in the car with him when he was intoxicated. He ran a red light, and we got t-boned by a pickup truck."

Oh, no. My chest tightens as he speaks, his voice wavering slightly with emotion. I keep quiet, letting him tell me as much as he wants to.

He says, "My mom was killed on impact, and my dad died in the hospital later that night. I had a few broken bones, but I was fine. I found out later that my mom was pregnant with a girl."

I squeeze his hand with mine. My eyes water, and a few tears fall down my face. That's a lot to go through as a kid—losing both of your parents and a soon-to-be sister. I can't imagine the impact that had on him when he was the only survivor.