The Dead and The Damned

Part 13

I rip myself out of Harry's grasp before he can ask questions, pounding down the stairs and stopping short in front of Liam, the pill bottle still in my hands. His jaw is a deep shade of purple, but besides that he seems fine. He smirks when he sees me.

"Where's Sam?" I ask, my voice strained. I can't believe he wouldn't tell me. I can't believe him. Liam ignores my question, his eyes grazing my body slowly, his lip tight between his teeth. I groan and stomp away, heading towards the kitchen. Sam is standing over the sink, scrubbing something in the soapy water, and Niall is at the table, reading a book with a half eaten apple in his hands. Sam looks up from his work, lighting up when he sees me in the doorway.

"Hey, Soph. Come down to help me with the guns?" he jokes, picking up a rifle out of the sink. I ignore him, my jaw clenched. The pills are tight in my hand. Sam glances up when I don't answer, giving me a questioning look. It's not like I have a script for this in my head. Nobody really tells you what to say when you find out your brother has been hiding his cancer from you. My walls slip away, my anger loosening, as betrayal overwhelms me.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I say, hating the way my voice is quiet and weak. Sam furrows his brow, appearing as if he's deep in thought.

"Tell you what?" he asks. For some reason, his innocence makes me furious. I toss the pill bottle at him, anger spreading throughout my body. Sam catches the bottle in his hands, turning it over. His eyes widen with realization. He looks from me, to the bottle, and back to me again, his face paling.

"Why would you keep this from me?" I yell. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Niall slip out of the room. Sam sighs, leaning against the counter and placing the pill bottle behind him, out of my sight. He runs his hands through his hair, and for the first time I see how much the apocalypse has drained him. I can see how tired he looks.

"Sophie, I was going to tell you. I was! But then the apocalypse happened, and the world turned to shit, and everything just..." he trails off, not sure how to finish. I shake my head, tears pricking at my eyes. I push the palms of my hands into my eyes to keep from crying.

"When?" I whisper, all anger gone again.

"When what?"

"When did it happen?" Sam exhales, long and slow.

"I was diagnosed five months ago. It isn't serious, ok - "

"Five months ago?" I tear my hands away from my eyes, glaring at him. "This all happened five months ago? The apocalypse started two weeks ago, and you couldn't bother to tell me anytime before then?" Sam hunches forward, placing his head in his hands; not looking at me. His shoulders start to shake a little, and I feel a sharp pang of guilt. I can hear him crying. When we were little, I would always know when he was crying - which was rare - because he made this little sniffling sounds. He hasn't changed much.

"I-I didn't want to tell you, because I was scared. Ok? I was scared of what it would do to you." he mumbles. I sigh, rubbing my forehead, before walking over to him and putting his face in my hands.

"Listen to me, Sammy." He smiles through his tears, this lopsided smile that goes higher up on the right than the left. It was crooked, but a good crooked. "You having cancer scares me, yes, but what scares me more is when you feel like you need to keep it from me. You can trust me, ok? I've got your back in this. We'll make it through this." I say, trying to reassure myself more than him. He nods, his tears blurring against my hand. He kisses my forehead, before pulling me into a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of my neck.

"I'm sorry, sis." he says. I sigh, pulling him closer.

"We'll be ok."

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