Afterlight (Fanfiction) - EDITING ✓

chapter twenty-seven

Chloe

UNEASINESS.

It was a feeling that we have all experienced, one way or another. As soon as I heard my older brother's voice, his smooth, mature voice that I grew up hearing, uneasiness shot through me. The uneasiness shot through my veins, from my hands, out to my heart, down to my legs. My soul had the sense of uneasiness. It was a feeling that I could never pass by. I sensed it everyday, as if it was a routine. It sure didn't hit me in the past as hard as it hit me today.

I tried to imagine myself in my happy place, a sanctuary far removed from the chaos unfolding around me. I pictured the backyard of my old home in California, the sun warm and golden as it kissed my skin. I could see myself sprawled on a lounge chair, a bikini clinging to my body as I basked in the heat. On the glass table beside me sat a tall, icy glass of lemonade, beads of condensation racing down its surface. I could almost taste its tartness, hear the faint clink of ice as I picked it up to take a sip. In the background, Lana Del Rey's Born to Die played, her sultry voice a hypnotic melody that wrapped itself around me, soothing every nerve.

But the image shattered as reality crept back in, pulling me from the comforting mirage. I was here, in Stratford, sitting on the edge of the couch, my nerves frayed and my heart racing. Brad's voice crackled through the phone, tearing through the fragile peace I had built with Justin just moments ago. I glanced at him—my protector, my now-boyfriend—as he stood at the kitchen counter, his jaw tight and fingers drumming against the surface. He radiated tension, his unease as palpable as the guilt pressing heavily on my chest.

I couldn't ignore the weight of responsibility. This was my doing. My choice. My rebellion. And now the fallout was here, relentless and unforgiving. I'd pulled Justin into my mess, into Brad's fury.

"Go on," Justin said quietly, his voice steady but strained as he addressed Brad on the phone. He looked over at me, his expression torn between frustration and the silent question: What now?

I wanted to crumble. Brad's anger wasn't a surprise, but hearing it made everything feel more real, more crushing. My brother's disappointment loomed over me, sharper than any blade. I wrapped my arms around myself, as if that would keep me from breaking under the weight of it.

"I need to talk to my sister. Is she there?" Brad's voice was cold, clipped. I froze. His words hit like a slap, sending a chill down my spine. I wasn't ready. I would never be ready.

Justin muted the phone and crossed the room, kneeling in front of me. His hands found mine, warm and grounding. "You've got this," he murmured, his voice gentle, almost coaxing. "Take a deep breath, princess. It's going to be okay."

I nodded shakily, trying to believe him, but my heart was hammering in my chest, and tears threatened to spill over. My knees trembled, my body betraying me.

"Justin, please," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Don't make me talk to him. He hates me. I know he does." My vision blurred, and the room felt like it was closing in.

He squeezed my hands firmly. "He doesn't hate you," he said, his tone resolute. "He's angry. There's a difference. You should talk to him, Chloe." He paused, his eyes searching mine, steady and unwavering. "Reassure him. He's worried, even if he won't say it outright."

Despite my fear, I knew he was right. Justin always had a way of grounding me, even in my most chaotic moments. I took the phone from his outstretched hand, unmuted it, and brought it to my ear, steeling myself.

"Brad, before you say anything, you need to kno—"

"Save the bullshit, Chloe," he snapped, cutting me off before I could get a word out. His voice was sharp, dripping with venom. "What the fuck were you thinking? Do you want to get yourself killed?"