The Kippens | Tyrus

Sister

TJ's POV

7 Years Ago

"You're lucky," Amber states. 

Her eyes are firm on the road, staring into the darkness of the country roads beyond the range of the headlights. Every once in a while, a streetlight glows down on us like a heating element in a toaster, but it does nothing to fight the cold air. I see another car's headlights fly past us light fireflies before drenching us back in the stillness of 1:24 a.m. 

I keep my eyes turned out the window. Although she's not my mom, she likes to think she knows better than me, and it kills me—especially when I know she's right. 

"I don't understand why you started hanging out with Reed and Lester again—"

"Because, Amber—" I cut her off, my voice cracking into a squeak. I pause, trying not to let myself cry, but my headache pounds on my skull, screaming at me to let everything out that I'm trying to contain. "I'm . . . It's hard."

She looks at me softer now, realizing that this isn't some act of rebellion but just misdirection. I know Reed and Lester aren't the best, and Reed certainly isn't much different now than he was when we were 13. Now that he's 18, it's even easier for him to do stupid stuff. 

"I just don't want to pick up my phone next time to hear someone telling me you were shot and not someone's property."

"I know," I mutter. "Amber, I just don't know what to do. Nothing makes me smile anymore, and I can't think clearly anymore, and I just . . ." My strength breaks, and the tears come flowing out. "What the fuck did I do?"

Glancing between me and the road, she reaches out to touch my hand in an attempt to calm me. 

"It'll get easier," she promises. 

She gives me a smile, and I try to smile back, but I just can't get past my mood. 

What happens next comes in a blur. I look back to the road, but it's not the road we're headed toward. Within milliseconds, I hear the crumple of the hood of the car as it collides with a tree trunk, the shatter of glass spikes my ears as the airbag steals my vision, and my sister's scream stings the air, ringing even after her voice is gone. 

The airbag releases, and I look over to my sister in the driver's seat. Her eyes are closed, and her head is bleeding from a large gash right above her eyebrow. I outstretch my arm to give her a light shake, noticing that my own hand is dripping red as well, but I can't feel it. 

"Amber!" I shout, but I get no response. 

I can hear the blood pulsing through my skull, and I search for the training I've had since I was a kid on what to do in situations like this. My phone's screen is so bright it hurts my head, and my fingers have been jolted so much that it's hard to get them to follow orders from my brain, but I manage to type the numbers: 911. 

I'm sure it's longer than a minute, but it all seems to happen to fast. I hear sirens approaching, and the flash of lights colours everything around me. Then the voices come, the voices I will never forget. These are the voices that will echo in my mind whenever I look at my sister again. They are the reason she will be alive tomorrow. These are what angels sound like, whether you believe in heaven or not. And from this moment on, I know I want to be one of those voices for someone else—the sound of hope that they will be able to see another sunrise. 

Present Day

"Nice place," Amber says as she steps into my house. "When are you gonna get the rest of it?"

She laughs, but I just shake my head at the joke. 

"If you want to buy me some furniture, that'd be great," I respond with a chuckle. 

She drapes her jacket over the coatrack and passes by me toward the kitchen. She stops and spins around in the space to get a full look at it. 

"You weren't kidding when you said you need to go shopping," she says. "You don't even have a kettle?"

"Nope."

She shakes her head in fake disappointment then pulls out a chair to sit down at the table. I join her, taking the other end of the structure. 

"So," she says, "I do believe you had a different reason for inviting me over—as much as I'm sure you love me judging your place."

"I do," I say. "I wanted to ask you about something. I got a call from Mom and Dad yesterday."

"You too, huh?" she says bitterly. "Yeah, I deleted the message as soon as I heard who it was from."

"You weren't curious?" I ask. "About what they had to say?"

"TJ, they threw us both out without a second thought. We weren't their kids unless we were straight. I spent years dwelling on that fact. They stole so much of my life already, and I'm not going to let them take any more of it."

I focus down at my hands on the table, considering what she's saying. As much pain as they caused me, I want to believe that they might want to make it right. There's no way they can be just heartless. Anyone, even the coldest people on this earth, feel guilt. Is it that strange for me to think my parents might feel guilty and want to make things right? 

"I think I'm going to give them a chance," I say. "If they want to apologize, I should at least hear what they have to say."

I can tell by Amber's face that she doesn't agree with me, but she doesn't say so. 

"You're a grown adult who can make his own decisions," she says. "I'm not in charge of you anymore."

"Even when you were in charge of me, it's not like I ever listened to you," I say with a grin. 

"True," she concurs. 

We share a chuckle, going silent when it fades, surly both caught up in the memories of when it was just the two of us trying to win at life. 

"Thank you," I say, causing her to turn her eyes back up to me. "I don't think I said that enough. You didn't have to leave with me, but you did. You've always been there for me."

She gives me a gentle smile. "I'm your big sister. I would never not be there for you."

A/N: Here's another chapter! That's all I'm gonna say, because I want to get working on the next chapter. Oh, other than new cover! I like it more. I love you all. Good night!