Through the Glass

Chapter 16

Eliza's breath caught in her throat as she walked toward the door of her brother's room. She hesitated for a moment, the weight of responsibility heavy on her young shoulders. At 13, she had been given more freedom lately—more chances to be the older sister, to keep an eye on her brother, Jasper. But that afternoon had been different, busier, more chaotic than usual. Her parents were distracted, rushing to get something ready downstairs, and they had entrusted Jasper's care to her.

She knocked lightly on the doorframe, peeking inside. Jasper was sitting by the window, his knees pulled up to his chest, staring out into the backyard. He was only six, small for his age, but full of boundless energy and curiosity. He hadn't noticed her yet, too absorbed in whatever imaginary world he had conjured outside the glass.

"Jas," she called softly, stepping inside. "Mom and Dad said we shouldn't be up here by ourselves. They want us to stick together until they're done."

Jasper didn't answer right away, still staring out the window, his little fingers tracing the condensation on the glass. "I'm watching the birds," he finally said, his voice soft. "They keep landing on the tree."

Eliza sighed, walking over to him. She leaned against the windowsill, following his gaze. The tree in the backyard was tall, its branches stretching high, reaching for the clouds. Birds flitted in and out of the branches, singing their quiet songs. She wished, for a moment, that they could both stay in this peaceful moment forever—just her and Jasper, watching the world.

"Let's go downstairs," she said, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. "We'll play a game or something. It's getting late."

Jasper wriggled free from her touch and stood up on the windowsill, his tiny hands pressing against the glass. He laughed, bouncing on the balls of his feet, pretending to fly like the birds outside.

"Jasper, stop," Eliza said, more sharply than she intended. "Come down from there before you—"

It happened so fast. One moment, Jasper was playing, laughing in his innocent world, and the next, there was a crack—a sound so sharp, so sudden, it echoed in Eliza's ears long after the glass shattered. Jasper lost his balance, his little body tipping forward toward the window as the fragile pane gave way beneath him.

Eliza screamed his name, her heart racing as she reached for him, but it was too late. Jasper fell forward, tumbling out of the broken window. Eliza's world slowed to a blur of motion, her hands still outstretched, her voice stuck in her throat as she scrambled after him.

The next moments were chaos—screaming, the pounding of footsteps up the stairs, her parents bursting into the room, their faces twisted with horror and disbelief. Eliza couldn't remember much after that, just the way her mother wailed, the way her father's arms gripped her shoulders so tightly she thought she might break too.

Everything blurred together—the ambulance arriving, the frantic rush to the hospital, and the suffocating stillness that came after. The doctors worked on Jasper for what felt like an eternity, but the looks on their faces told the story long before they spoke the words.

Jasper was gone.

Eliza sat in the waiting room, her hands clutching the hem of her sweater, her eyes staring blankly at the sterile white walls. The world felt like it had crumbled beneath her, leaving her floating in an empty space she couldn't escape. The guilt weighed heavily on her, pressing down like a stone on her chest. She should have done something—should have stopped him, should have been faster.

It was her fault.

Her breath hitched in her throat as the door to the waiting room opened. She looked up, her eyes red and swollen from hours of silent crying. A boy walked in, his hand wrapped in a thick bandage, his face pale. He looked to be about her age, maybe a little younger, with sandy blond hair and wide blue eyes that darted nervously around the room.

He didn't seem to notice her at first, but when their eyes met, something passed between them—a flicker of recognition, even though they had never met. The boy hesitated before sitting down on the chair next to her, cradling his injured hand in his lap.

Eliza sniffed, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to do anything, but the boy's presence was strangely comforting, even in the silence.

After a few minutes, he spoke. "I hurt my hand," he said, his voice quiet, as if he didn't want to disturb the stillness of the room. "Punched through a window."

Eliza blinked, her gaze shifting to his bandaged hand. "Why?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The boy shrugged, looking down at his hand. "I was mad. I don't even remember why, but it was stupid. My brother got hurt playing soccer, and I just... I lost it."

Eliza swallowed hard, her heart aching at the mention of a brother. She wanted to say something, to tell him what had happened to Jasper, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she just nodded, her eyes welling up with fresh tears.

The boy shifted uncomfortably, his hand fidgeting with the edge of his bandage. "I don't know why I'm telling you this," he said, his voice shaky. "But I guess... sometimes things just happen, and you can't stop them."

Eliza's breath hitched as the tears spilled over again, rolling down her cheeks. The boy didn't say anything more, but he sat beside her in silence, his presence a small, quiet comfort in the overwhelming darkness that had settled over her life.

They stayed like that for a long time, two broken children in a hospital waiting room, bonded by grief they couldn't fully understand.