Shattered

Carter

Carter
33.
From my bedroom window, I watched an old green Subaru as it pulled up along our curb. I could see someone inside, unmoving as he stared down at the phone in his hands. With a loose-fitted, green beanie and an unkept beard, he didn't look the type to be hanging around our neighborhood, let alone hanging out with someone like Thomas.

I stood to my feet, ignoring the ache in my head that threatened me to stay in bed. I still felt much too weak from the last few days, but I forced myself to push the feelings aside. If I thought about it too hard, I felt the crushing weight of my disappointment all over again.

The sound of glass crunched underneath my feet, and movement stirred to my left. My head snapped up, realizing that dad was still in the same place I left him three hours ago. Only this time, he was unconscious with a beer beer bottle spilled in his lap. Without breathing and my heart hammering in my chest, I kept my gaze locked on the direction of Thomas's bedroom. Praying that dad wouldn't wake as I hurried past as quietly as I could.

Thomas had his back to me when I made it to his room, and I stood and watched for a moment as he rummaged through his drawers, throwing clothes onto a growing pile next to a black duffle bag.

Suddenly, I was even more frightened. Was Thomas going on a trip? He never said he was going anywhere.

He always talked about wanting to leave, and that I would come with him, but we both knew he wasn't serious. We had no money, no other place to live, and dad made it clear what would happen if either of us ever left him.

"Where are you going?"

Thomas whipped around, his eyes wide and full of panic as he strode for his bed. But realizing it was me, Thomas's steps slowed and his arms dropped to his sides.

The panic disappeared, replaced by guilt, instead, and the look only made me feel worse.

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Thomas," I challenged. Although my voice was hard, it wavered with my own growing fear. I was sure he could see it. "Are you going somewhere?"

Not looking at me, Thomas began to sort through his clothes, pulling one piece out and folding it neatly into his bag. Then another.

"The doctor said you needed to rest, Carter."

"Screw what the doctor said. I'm fine now, aren't I? Just tell me what you're doing and I'll leave you alone."

I hated how effortlessly he tried to get out of things, ignoring my words as if I'd somehow forget. Just like with dad, was he expecting to get away with this by ignoring me?

I knew better.

"Please stop ignoring me, Thomas. Why won't you tell me what's going on?"

Drawing closer to his bed, I ran my hands through his clothes, picking through the t-shirts and jeans and sweatshirts—any evidence I could find for what my brother was doing.

"A-Are you leaving?" I stuttered quietly.

Thomas's stare fell back on me, and again, didn't say a word, but it confirmed the dread that pooled in my stomach. Fearful at the thought of being left alone without him here beside me.

"Carter...this isn't—"

"This isn't what it is? I can see right through you, Thomas because you're a terrible liar."

I made toward the door, my steps slowing and becoming quieter so that I could peak out into the hallway.

The sound of a shuffling followed me out. I could hear Thomas calling my name, but ignored his voice, wanting to be as far away from my brother as possible.