Solace In The Silence ✓✓

chapter 33

"Don't go," Angie whispered, and there was an underlying desperation in her voice. "We'll change the subject, or we can just not talk for a while. Whatever you want."

I eyed her suspiciously, attempting to untangle what she was really saying, why she was pleading with me.
"Fine. I'll stay," I acquiesced, stretching out beside her. She gave my hand a squeeze, and I smiled, closing my eyes. A comfortable silence rung out, and I listened to the steady, powerful rhythm of my pulse thrumming in my ears.

Angie was right about a lot of things, but she was wrong about my relationship with her brother. Jake couldn't break me. Not really. Not when I was already kind of broken, never truly letting myself heal or move on from losing Elvis. And so, we lay there, playing the silent game, both of us lost in thought.

The next morning I was pulled from the arms of slumber when I heard non-distinct voices in Angie's kitchen.
Feeling craptacular, I tiptoed over to where I'd dumped my backpack beside her desk, rifling through its contents until I located the box of Ibuprofen that I always carried on me.

Even though Angie and I had spent most of last night watching Netflix, devouring a whole bag of gummy bears, and devising a plan about how to tackle the fucked-up Joe situation, I still felt wrecked, nursing an emotional hangover. I had a rip-roaring headache, a combination of drinking tequila on an empty stomach and ugly girl crying after my best friend had eventually fallen asleep.

At least those tears hadn't been wasted on Jake, though. They had paid tribute to my brother, releasing some of the buried grief I still felt about his death. About having to wake up in a world, day in and day out, where I couldn't talk to him, hug him, when I needed to.
Hearing Angie's dad booming voice again, I bristled, picking up on a couple of fragmented sentences that were out of context.
Is this really the best decision for everyone... Don't you think he'd understand... No, you're right.
Lingering by her ajar bedroom door, my eyebrows immediately snapped together. Were Angie's parents fighting about their decision to sell up and travel overseas? Suspicion blossomed. And who were they referring to? Jake?

The shouts became louder, and I suddenly felt wide awake. That was probably my cue to leave.
Glancing back at the bed, I was grateful to find that Angie had started to stir. An agonized groan escaped her throat when she checked her clock and discovered it wasn't even eight in the morning yet. I'd felt the same.
"What's going on?" she said groggily, kicking the covers aside and swinging her feet to the floor. "Are they arguing again?"
"I think so," I said unhelpfully,

debating whether I should tell her what I'd overheard or if I should just keep it to myself. Awash with conflicting emotions, I shook out four of the little painkillers and offered two of them to her, knowing she'd need it almost as badly as I did.
"Thanks. My water bottle's on the dresser." Angie gave me a brief, tight smile, and motioned to her mahogany dresser and vanity. She crawled over to her nightstand to check her phone. "It saves us from having to venture out into that minefield." She let out a snort of laughter. "Don't worry, I'll sneak you out at intermission."
Curiosity getting the better of me, I asked, "Do you know why they've been fighting?"
An uncomfortable silence thumped between us.
"Moving stuff, I think," she said vaguely, avoiding my concerned gaze.

I narrowed my eyes on her, wondering why she was acting weird. The expression she wore was flighty, and her resemblance to Jake at that moment was eerie. Now that I thought about it, they both shared the same look sometimes—like I was trying to approach a cornered, wild animal that wanted to cut and run.

Telling myself it was none of my business, I forced my shoulders to relax. "Thought so. It mustn't be easy for them, leaving you and your brother behind."
She fidgeted with the blankets. "Yeah."
Not wanting to push her for more information—even though I was convinced that something was wrong—I let her weird behavior go. Resigned to deal with the pounding in my head, for now, I downed the painkillers and then went to move away from her dresser. There was a folder sitting on top that I'd never noticed before, drawing my gaze. A couple of loose documents stuck out. I leaned in closer, an icy ball of fear forming.
"What's this?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.