November 25
I spent a night wandering the town. It's still fairly warm for this time of year in Minnesota.
I was afraid to go to the house, afraid to see what had happened to that woman in my absence—to see the absence. But Thanksgiving was yesterday, so I have nowhere else to go until Monday.
She wasn't at home when I got there. The emptiness was deafening. I'd never been in the house when it was like that before. My brother has always been with me, except for that one day with Vinni. I walked the house, hovering my hands over everything he'd touched, but not quite able to set them down. It was like he was a ghost and his essence had sunk into the air and repulsed any attempt at contact.
I got the funniest feeling—like I would never see him again. It wasn't as though he'd died, but as though he'd simply faded away, as though he'd dissolved into the air, and his particles would soon be blown away by time and drafts and ventilation systems. I could feel him swimming in my head and invading my lungs. I felt the need to cough, but instead I dry-heaved over the sink. What was my brother's name? I couldn't remember. How could I have a brother? How could that woman bring two children into the world only to neglect them?
Had I killed him? Had I absorbed him like a cannibal, like the strong twin did the weak in that one science journal I read? Had the demon fire finally burned up and the ashes scattered across the fabric of reality? Or had I burnt him up myself in a fit of impossible fury, burned him so hotly that I seared the act from my memory?
I walked to his room and passed my eyes over it. It looked the same as we'd left it over a day ago. The woman hadn't touched it. I wondered if she would even remember he'd existed now, or if he'd fallen through the cracks of reality and only I, the one who had caused his fall, could remember him.
My feelings fluctuated between that bubbling rage and a strange, calm emptiness, until the two converged into one emotion that left me feeling absolutely scrambled in the head.
I closed up the room and felt my way to my own. The house was now pitch black, the sun having set while I'd been staring at my brother's room. But I couldn't bring myself to turn on a light.
I closed my room door behind me and dragged my dresser in front of it. I couldn't have her coming in. I couldn't have anyone coming in. I couldn't have anyone going out.
Only kicking off my shoes, somehow reasoning that I wouldn't want to clean the sheets, I climbed in to bed.
I have to get away from this place.
I have to stop my mind.
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YOU ARE READING
PROPERTY OF A. KENDRICK
Novela JuvenilA. Kendrick is bullied at school and has no allies among students or staff. And why should he? He's small and strange-looking and slow. His only purpose in life is to keep his younger brother safe from their negligent and occasionally violent mother...