Snow

48 | do not open the door

❝some things are bigger than hellfire.
some lives are smaller than most.
and i can't justify an existence
spent dancing with a ghost.❞

❘❘

I LAY BESIDE HER SILENTLY. Stuck in a hazy silence, breathing slow and fading fast, I let myself sink into the sea of quiet secrets.

Emmy can't know.

"I love your hair," she breathes, plucking at the tangled strands and twisting them around her fingers. "I love you."

Butterflies storm through my chest, fluttering frantically, and as I steal a selfish glance at her, they trample my heart. I can't find words for how much I love her.

I muster up a weak smile. "Sabes que te amo, Emmy."

A rivaling smile tugs at her lips, leaving a sad, bittersweet aftertaste in the fragmented space between us. "Do you still feel like shit?"

"Lately, I always feel like shit," I admit with a dry laugh.

Emmy presses a hand to my forehead. "You're burning up, Neva, and you've been throwing up all day. Maybe we should... we should get you to a doctor."

Maybe. Tal vez necesito ayuda.

"I can go with you to the walk-in," she says, cool palms caressing my cheeks until my head lolls to the side. A shiver wracks through me, and I whimper, swallowing the urge to curl into a ball and cry. "Voy a ir contigo, Neva."

"No." I shake my head petulantly. "No doctors."

"What if you're sick?"

"Maybe I'll get lucky," I mutter, closing my eyes, "and just die peacefully."

Her breath hitches. "No eso es gracioso."

A faint buzz fills the sudden silence. Chingados.

Nausea stirs in the pit of my stomach. Swallowing hard, I sweep a hand across the sheets and beneath the pillow to grab my phone. Emmy watches cautiously, her dark eyes simmering with worry. "Is it Enzo?"

Who else would be calling me?

I tug the phone free to reveal his name flickering across a black screen.

"Yeah," I admit, heaving an exhausted sigh. "It's Enzo."

"Are you..."

Silently, I set my phone down between us, letting the vibrations fizzle into nothingness, letting my heart sink, sink, sink in misery and defeat.

Emmy no dice nada.

"Emmy, no sé... I don't know what to say to him." As the words unravel weakly, tears sting my eyes. "I hate him so much, but I... he's— he's mi hermano. I'm not supposed to hate my brother."

With a soft smile, Emmy nods. "I know. I know you don't want to hate him, mami, but maybe you need to talk to him about..."

My phone buzzes again, a ripple of electric shocks jolting through the sliver of space between us. Wincing, I glance down at the phone and... freeze.

An icy rage envelopes me.

Emmy stiffens. "Neva?"

"It's Vance," I barely breathe. I might not have him programmed into my phone, but I'd know that 305 number anywhere. I had it blocked. "Vance is calling me."