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She had her whole life ahead of her, and now she is gone. Dead. My beautiful sister is gone. The room still smells of her, and maybe that’s why I like sitting in here. It makes me feel closer to her. Like she’s not really gone.
My grip on the picture frame tightens. It’s been two weeks, and my parents still haven’t made an announcement. No one even knows she’s gone besides us. Three days after she passed, we had a tiny private funeral for which I’m thankful for. I’m glad it was just us and not hundreds of people who really didn’t give a shit anyway. I didn’t want their pity or pretend apologies. People only cared when it benefited them, and someone would ultimately use the gathering as a way to form an alliance or strike a deal.
I’m glad he didn’t let that happen, but I still don’t understand why he’s keeping it a secret. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised knowing that he has been keeping all kinds of truths hidden. But not acknowledging that she’s gone enrages me more than anything.
Did she matter so little to him? Does he not want to honor her memory?
So many unanswered questions are running through my mind, and the worst of it all, I don’t think I will ever get answers to them.
Placing the picture back on the bedside table, I get up, ready to leave the room when a loud crashing sound comes from downstairs. One minute, the house is completely silent; the next, all hell breaks loose.
Men are yelling, shots are fired, my sister and mother are screaming, and I panic and run out into the hallway, needing to get to them. I can’t lose anyone else. I’ll die before I do.
I don’t make it but one step out of Adela’s room before I’m tackled to the ground and pushed to the floor face-first.
“Get the fuck off me!” I throw back my elbow at my attacker, but he doesn’t budge.
My face is turned toward the open door, a knee pressed into my back as I’m helplessly forced to watch four men in tactical gear enter my dead sister’s room. The letters FBI are written on the back of their bulletproof vests.
What the hell are the feds doing here?
That question disappears into thin air as the four men start to tear apart Adela’s room.
“No! Leave her stuff alone!” I yell over the noise, but no one is listening. They tear off her bedsheets and flip over her mattress, knocking down the picture frame in the process. Carelessly, they walk all over her stuff, not looking where their heavy boots are landing. I can feel tears building in my eyes. My anger is so profound it’s all I can feel.
I might be my father’s son, but I have a heart, and it beats proudly for my family. One of them steps on her picture, the glass crunching beneath his foot, and the sound penetrates my heart. In a haze of despair and fury, I watch as they destroy her room. Tainting all of her stuff… the only thing I have left of her.
“Hey, you okay?” Ren’s voice drags me back to reality. I shake away the memory, but I can’t shake away the feelings it brought on. The loss of control, the pain, the agony of watching the last memories you have of someone being ripped to pieces.
Pain echoes through my chest with every beat of my heart. Will I ever be okay?
I think of Aspen, and that only intensifies my rage. I know it’s not her fault, that it’s her father’s, but that doesn’t change anything, not in my mind.
To me, she’s the enemy, and the stunt she just pulled put a bright red X on her back. Aspen will suffer the consequences of her actions because not only will I not be seen as weak in front of my peers. I won’t let her think for a second that she has a chance at winning control over her life back.
12
ASPEN
I’m so fucking hungry, I could cry. I’m not particularly fond of only eating what’s left from the day before, but expired food is better than no food. When the guy behind the counter told me there were no leftovers, and I couldn’t get anything, I lost it.
The mixture of painful hunger, lack of sleep, burning anger, and humiliation was too toxic to be held in. My only regret is letting it out on Q. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but I know making a scene in front of the entire school will cost me. He will not let that go. He’s going to retaliate, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.
Ignoring the emptiness in my stomach, I pull the hood from my sweatshirt over my head and go to the only place at this university I actually feel safe.
