THE MESS IT LEFT || In Progress

C h a p t e r IV

Sawyer sat in front of the fireplace, her arms wrapped protectively around her knees. Her eyes drooped with exhaustion, her body wracked with the painful craving of sleep, but everytime she tried to lay down, she was wide awake. It was as though laying in that bed under the same roof that she once shared with the most important person in her life flipped a switch in her brain and drained the melatonin from her body. She'd tried eating the night tike gummies stowed away at the top of the cabinet that she had to climb on top of the counter to reach, but every time all she was left with was a thick film on her tongue and residue between her teeth that she spent hours trying to pick out. She didn't remember the last time she'd slept. She hardly remembered anything since the funeral and even then it was hard to believe it had been two weeks.
She rose from the floor when she heard the gentle knock on the oak wood of the front door. She could make out the figure of a tall man illuminated by the lit porch light, his features shadowed by the overhang of her fathers' porch. She winced when she saw Marcus and his sunken eyes, pale face and greasy hair. She nearly choked on the smell of cologne and a warm, sophisticated scent she couldn't quite place. He looked as though he could hardly keep his eyes open long enough to look at her, his hair strewn in every direction.
"Where do you need me?" His voice came out hoarse and gravely. Sawyer wondered if he'd swallowed rocks. Or anything at all for that matter considering the frail structure of his gaunt face. Sawyer gestured behind her. "The heater on the side of the house is busted. I tried to fix it myself but I couldn't make any sense of the manual."
Marcus stepped inside with a hint of hesitation. He looked around him as Sawyer closed the door, observing the way Marcus slowly slid his hands from his pockets and twisted the silver band on his left ring finger. He seemed like it was his first time in the house all over again, quiet and slightly reserved but respectful and polite when he was spoken to. He was always kind. Sawyer could admit that, but that was that damn man's only redeeming feature. She still hated his guts, her pride stomped on and crumbled into the dirt just because she had to call him to help with the damn heater.
Sawyer noticed the way Marcus seemed to refuse to look at the walls of the living room. She considered the fact that maybe he was just being skittish because of what she had said to him at the funeral, or if it was because he was avoiding something. She glanced at the hanging pictures and then to Marcus. She felt the familiar anger slowly rising, growing warm in her chest. She bit the inside of her lip until she felt a shock of pain wash through her mouth and down her throat, mingling with the vile words she wanted to spit at him. She knew she was a hypocrite but so was Marcus. Marcus was always her go to example of a hypocrite and always would be, but seeing him standing in the living room, his eyes hazy and unfocused as he observed the wedding photos capturing Aiden and him, Sawyer could understand why Marcus had fallen silent. Even if she resented him and everything he stood for, she could understand the deep pit lost somewhere deep within the soul that wouldn't be filled for a long time.
However, unlike Sawyer, Marcus didn't lose his other half. He didn't lose someone who had always been by his side, even in the darkest of times. He would never be able to understand that kind of loss, and it made Sawyer angry. Marcus deserved to bear the weight of that loss, not her. For all she knew, Marcus didn't have any family left and weaseled his way into her family, claiming them as his own. She remembered a time when Aiden had told her about how Marcus didn't feel as though he needed a family, and yet, here he was, standing in Sawyer's childhood home. He was a hypocrite. He would always be a hypocrite.
Marcus turned his head away from the pictures. His fists tightened and Sawyer suppressed a scoff that pushed at her lips. She brushed past him, saying nothing with the expectation of him following, their steps light as not to disturb Atticus and Sam sleeping in their bedroom with the door open. Sawyer had noticed that ever since Aiden's death, Sam and Atticus slept with their door open like they once had when Sawyer and Aiden were children. They had claimed it was because if either Sawyer or Aiden had a nightmare they could just walk in and crawl into the spacious area of the bed, finding solace between their fathers. Sawyer remembered so many nights where she sleepily crawled between her fathers and seeked shelter from her racing thoughts of why her parents hadn't wanted her and her brother. She had found comfort in that bed, hidden from the nightmares of memories she swore weren't her's that captured broken needles and the smell of beer.
But she couldn't remember a time when Aiden had done that or at least if he ever had she just couldn't think of it. Aiden had always kept his emotions to himself, choosing his own silence and suffering over telling someone he needed help. Sawyer was the only exception. He had told her everything, sharing his fears and the anxieties of every aspect of his life. They had confided in each other because they were the only constant in each other's life for such a long period of time. When they were thrown between foster homes that had women smoking cigarettes who put the smoke out on furniture and skin and alcoholic men who confused children for their wives, they were the only person they could always trust. No matter what, Sawyer and Aiden always had each other. 
Sawyer stepped into the biting air, the sky above her an inky blue with specks of white flickering. She could see the little dipper where she was. It was ironic when she couldn't find the big dipper and she knew it was because she wasn't being observant, but she was too tired to star gaze. She just needed that stupid heater fixed and Marcus was her only source left. She didn't have the money to afford an HVAC technician to come do it for her and she wasn't keen on performing a seance to bring her dead brother back to life just for him to fix the heating unit.
She gestured to the heating unit. "I think the starter capacitor is dead. It keeps making a faint clicking sound."
Marcus looked at the toolbox that had been left in the dirt beside the heating unit. He looked at Sawyer. "So...I'm gonna take a wild guess and assume that you tried to fix this yourself earlier?"
"I couldn't make sense of the manual." Huffed Sawyer, crossing her arms. She looked at Marcus and watched him as he meticulously reached for the toolbox, unpacking it melodically. There was a sluggishness to his movements. Sawyer felt impatient watching, her eyes twitching in frustration, a habit she adopted from Aiden when he would speak to someone he didn't like. She bit the inside of her lip and huffed. She could envision Aiden working, his hands graceful and elegant as he fixed the broken parts of the stupid heater. She could imagine him listening to music and talking to Sawyer as if it was an everyday task like tying his shoelaces or brushing his teeth. He would do the same thing with cars, telling enthusiastic stories full of eccentric language and exciting inflections while his hands and shirt were covered in motor oil. He was always the life of everything, making everyone around him smile.
Sawyer didn't understand why it had to be him. She felt the bitterness that resided in her stomach start to churn, twisting around in her gut. She looked at Marcus. She wondered if he was angry or if she was in the wrong. She wondered if she was the one going crazy and she was actually the one losing her mind. She wondered if he was bitter, if he was losing sleep. She wondered if maybe she was the hypocrite being unfair to Marcus.
She bit so hard on her inner lip that she felt the shock of pain wash through her face, the taste of metal filling her mouth. Marcus was fine because Marcus didn't deserve to grieve Aiden. Aiden was her brother, he was her family. He was her twin. Her other half. She lost a piece of herself when he died. Nobody would ever understand that; especially not Marcus.
"Done." Sawyer looked at Marcus who was wiping his hands on his dress pants, standing to his feet. He began packing the toolbox again. Sawyer noticed the tremble in his hands and the torn, raw skin at his nail beds. He was still wearing his wedding ring, the gold engraved with various swirls and designs. Aiden had surprised him with it after he had bought the cheapest one so Aiden could have the Sterling Silver ring he had wanted since he was little. Their money was tight back then, living life from paycheck to paycheck before Marcus finally landed a good, substantial job.
She could see that the ring hadn't been disturbed from Marcus' finger. She had noticed it at the funeral but was so occupied with taking care of her fathers and her other family members that she hadn't had time to feel bitter. She hadn't allowed herself to be sucked into the sour jealousy every time she saw him. She'd been bitter when he hadn't shown up to Shiva that afternoon, but she also couldn't stomach the idea of seeing his face lingering the mass that swarmed the house later that day while she sobbed in the bathroom over the damn heating unit. She was frustrated with Marcus for not showing up, but she was even more frustrated with the fact that he fixed the damn heating unit so fucking easily.
"What the fuck?" Sawyer muttered, only half listening to the words she said. She stepped around Marcus and inspected the exposed wires, squinting.
Marcus looked at her momentarily before looking back at the wiring inside. "I did everything properly, Sawyer. There shouldn't be anything wrong with it."
"No, I'm just shocked you knew how to fix it so easily."
Marcus paused for a moment. "I'm just going to take that as a compliment and pretend it wasn't a jab at my intelligence."
"Oh no, it definitely was," Sawyer said indignantly. "Shocked you have the capacity to comprehend a manual to fix a heating unit but somehow lack the human decency to not be a total dickwad to your dead husband's twin."
Marcus' jaw tightened, hands fumbling with the metal piece to cover the wires of the metal unit in a moment of annoyance. He sighed, forcing his tone to remain calm. "I know things are hard right now—"
"Well would you look at that, Marcus is trying to diffuse the situation instead of saying what he really wants!" Sawyer mocked, an expression of false remorse crossing her grim features. "Always have to be the hero, right? Always have to fix everything? Just because you couldn't stop Mommy and Daddy from turning into sick, disgusting, vile demons doesn't mean that you have to save my family from you twisted fucks."
The wrench in Marcus' hand was sent hurtling towards the toolbox, the metals colliding with a sickening clamber of teeth grinding sounds. Marcus towered over Sawyer, his gaze deadly. "You have no idea what I did to get to where I am, Sawyer. You have no idea the kind of sacrifices I made; the kinds of sacrifices that Aiden made, just for me to get to where I am today." He shoved a finger into Sawyer's chest, his breath hot against her face. "Unlike everybody else, I can understand loving someone with everything you have and then having them torn away from you in the blink of an eye. You have every right to be angry, but don't you dare take it out on me, do you understand?"
Sawyer fell into an infuriated silence, her teeth clamped around the skin on the inside of her bottom lip until she felt the warmth of blood and tasted its metallic film. Her face and ears grew hot, her eyes burrowing holes into Marcus' dark pupils. She hated him. She hated everything he stood for and everything he ever had which was close to nothing. She hated that he claimed to be going through the same pains as if he had lost a piece of him to a villainous monster who preyed on the sweet and innocent. She hated that he believed he could fix everything and she hated that she ever once believed that maybe he could. She pushed Marcus' hand down and pushed past him, walking to the front door. She paused. "...Don't ever come back here."
Marcus laughed indignantly as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world. "You called me here!"
"And it was obviously a mistake."
"I thought I wasn't welcome in your parents home anymore and stupidly, I assumed that accounted for their property as well, correct? So what kind of ridiculous hypocrisy are you engaging in, Caddell?"
Sawyer would've done anything to punch Marcus in the face. She isn't sure why she didn't but she spun on her heel, facing an incensed Marcus. "You are the most entitled, self-righteous, egotistical bastards I have ever met."
"And you're an angry daughter who just lost a whole piece of herself," Somehow, there was a tenderness in Marcus' voice. He didn't look angry anymore, but pitiful for Sawyer and what she'd become. It made her sick and the resentment she had for this man seemed to grow even more. Marcus either didn't notice or just didn't care, his gaze softening in a moment of sympathy and understanding. "You're scared and the only defense mechanism you know is anger. And I understand that, more than you allow yourself to believe because by making me the villain, you justify your hatred towards me. But Sawyer...I am on your side. I want to help you. Just let me do that."
Sawyer looked at Marcus, something unreadable in her expression. She felt her throat burn, craving the pain of tearing her vocal chords with the force of a scream so powerful it would be heard around the world. Her hands were trembling. She wanted to break something, maybe Marcus' nose, but she wanted to smash her head against the wall even more. She wanted the pounding headaches to stop, she wanted the anger to subside. But she was growing comfortable and for the first time since Aiden's death, she had something familiar with her. She wasn't ready to let that go, and maybe she'd never be ready to.
"I don't want help from you."
"Then who?" Marcus asked, desperation dripping from his words. "Who will you allow to help, Sawyer? Aiden? He's dead! A deadman can't help you!"
"You think I don't fucking know that!" Sawyer's voice broke. "I know he's dead! And I can't do anything about it! He died, and if I would've just asked him to stay because I already didn't want him out alone cause it was past midnight, or if I would've just had him call you, or if—if I would've called you, maybe he'd still be alive! I could've saved him, but no, I fucking let him leave and he fucking died on his way home, in the most brutal, inhumane way possible and...I let him die. I let my twin brother die!"
Sawyer was in hysterics, the majority of her words jumbled and incohesive. Marcus grabbed her just in time before she hit the icy ground, his arms wrapped protectively around her. He didn't remember her always feeling so frail and he wondered how long she'd gone without food. He kneeled to the ground and held a distraught Sawyer, rubbing her back. He didn't know what to say. Sawyer had always been a bubbly and bright person — Aiden had always compared her to a ray sunshine in human form — but this was something foreign to him. Before Aiden's death, she'd always been kind to him. They got along in the past and even acted similarly to an older brother annoying his younger sister. Marcus had always adored and loved Sawyer.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Sawyer calmed down. Marcus was surprised when she didn't immediately push him away and clamber out of his lap, spitting insults at him. She slowly sat up and he felt a brush of coolness crawl across his chest when she pulled her shoulder away. He loosened his grip on her and watched as he stared at her folded hands resting in her lap, her thumbs picking at her cuticles. They were already painfully red, raw from incessant chewing and gnawing. Marcus glanced at his own reddened knuckles and grimaced.
Sawyer looked at Marcus with a pitiful gaze, her eyes bloodshot, bags weighing down her once clear skin now rippled with acne. Her face was blotchy from her crying, her nose reddened in a way that reminded Marcus of Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer. Pieces of her hair were stuck in her drying tears but they didn't seem to bother her for she didn't move them or make any attempt to. She finally broke the silence, her voice hoarse. "I want to help you."
Marcus gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Let's focus on you first, Sawyer."
"No," Sawyer said firmly. Her eyes reminded him of jades, glossy from crying and full of a dark determination, "I want to help you find him."
There was a beat of silence before Marcus had realized what Sawyer was asking him. His face drained of its color. "Sawyer-"
"You can't convince me not to. Either you let me help, or I do it myself."
Marcus shook his head. "You don't understand how dangerous that could be."
"What do I have to lose, Marcus?" Asked Sawyer.
He paused for a moment, unsure how to answer. How was he supposed to answer that when he wasn't living for anything anymore? Marcus had nothing else to lose. Did Sawyer?
If he let her help, he could make sure she was doing it safely, without putting herself at risk. He could even teach her some things, and maybe, even if the focus was on Aiden's death, distract her. He would be around her more often. He could keep an eye on her. But she could also risk him getting burned if they began an investigation on a specific person, blowing his cover and complicating his job even more than it already was. She could put them both in danger if this person, the person who killed Aiden, knew anything about Aiden's personal life and the people involved. He could be putting her well-being at risk by surrounding her with evidence, reports and all kinds of other things.
He could put her at risk just by her being around him.
He sighed. "You can tell absolutely no one about this, do you understand?"
She looked up, her eyes widening. She nodded excitedly. "Understood."
Marcus stood to his feet, reaching a hand out to Sawyer. He pulled her to her feet. "Be at the house at nine o'clock. Sharp."
Sawyer nodded. She would have smiled if she had the energy.