HEALING THE SCARS

CHAPTER 50

DYLAN

I close the door behind me, letting the room's silence settle around us. "Andrew, what the was that?" I ask, keeping my voice steady, though the frustration is hard to mask. He's sitting on his bed, his head cradled in his hands, looking smaller than he ever should. Seeing him like this pulls at a part I wouldn't say I like to visit often, a part that remembers the boy I used to be when I was his age. I can't help but remember the boy he was when he stayed with my mother for those months, the boy who never quite fit in, who seemed to struggle to process the world around him as everyone else did.

I sit down beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight. "Andrew, talk to me," I say, softer now, trying to reach through the layers he's built up over the years. I glance at the sleek new laptop on his desk. "I see you've got the new laptop. Do you like it?"

"It's cool. Better than what I had. Expensive too," he says, his voice flat, devoid of any real feeling.

"Yeah, it's the latest version. I wanted you to have the best," I reply, though I know this isn't about the laptop. "But that's not what I'm here for. That was a hell of an outburst. You scared Ava. What's going on?"

"Ava Rose," he says, lifting his head just enough for me to see the coldness in his eyes. "I hate her."

I lean back slightly, trying to piece together his words. "Hate's a strong word, Andrew. You barely know her. What's bothering you?"

"She's annoying. Always smiling like everything's fine. It pisses me off," he snaps, his voice edged with a frustration that feels misplaced.

"It pisses you off that she's happy?" I ask, genuinely puzzled. "Why?"

"She tries to do things for me as if I asked her to, like she knows me. She should go back to wherever she came from," he mutters, anger seeping through every word.

I take a deep breath, trying to understand the maze of his thoughts. "Maybe it's not about her happiness, but how it makes you feel. Maybe it's new, and you're not used to someone being that... kind."

"Whatever. I don't care," he says, his voice clipped, but I can see the cracks in his armor.

"Your sister says she can't deal with you anymore. She says you're acting out, causing chaos in the house," I tell him, watching for his reaction.

"I'm not talking to her. She slapped me," he says, the anger seeping through despite his attempts to hide it.

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. "I am not trying to defend Penelope but I know she isn't violent, so whatever happened must've been pretty bad. What did happen?"

"Nothing," he says, but there's a flicker of guilt behind his eyes.

"Look, what you did to Ava was wrong. You can't treat people like that, especially someone who's done nothing but try to be nice to you. You're going to apologize. You will go to the garden, pick a flower, and give it to her. And tomorrow, you're buying her some chocolate. No arguments," I say, my tone leaving no room for debate.

"No way, Dylan. That's stupid," he protests, but the resistance in his voice is weakening.

"You once came to me asking how to act more... normal. This is me teaching you something small but important. So, you're going to do it, and afterward, we'll talk about how you can make things right with Penelope too. She's your sister, Andrew. You owe her that much."

He groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine. But this isn't some romantic thing, okay? I don't like her like that."

"I didn't say you did. It's not about romance, Drew. It's about being a decent person," I tell him, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "And yes, you're going to talk to your sister. She's done everything for you, and you need to show her some respect."