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REX
“Rex, it’s been three weeks.”
I yank at the blanket to pull it tight over my head and block out the sunlight my brother insists on letting in before it pierces my skull.
“Don’t care.” My voice is a graveled mess thanks to the bottle sitting on the stand next to me that I’m pretty sure I drained last night, maybe even this morning.
Was it two?
I can feel his eye roll louder than I hear his scoff with his next words. “That’s all you’ve said. That you don’t care.” I shrug to myself under the comforter, but it gets enough of the message across.
Fishing a hand out of the mess of blankets, I reach for the glass I know will help numb the ache only to feel my twin swipe it from my grasp.
“Bro, you’re killing me.” There’s no sarcasm to his words like Mac generally has, even when it’s not the time for it. “At least come to the arcade. Play a game with me.”
It’s like we’re thirteen all over again and I just want to chase girls and sing my heart out while my brother just wants thebullying to stop. Except the girl I want I let go and he’s older now, able to stick up for himself.
Not that he couldn’t then either.
Explaining the black eyes and busted knuckles to our mother, though, was a whole other story.
“No.” Harsh, my words send a lancing of pain through my own chest at the rejection of my own brother.
I don’t want to see the world, I want to be left alone. I have nothing left to give to the people outside this room considering I’ve already given up just about every damned thing else.
Like my fucking privacy.
My life.
My heart.
“Archie wants to see you about the record.” Mac’s words are hopeful as he shares something I used to get excited about, but all it does right now is add to the rock sinking in my gut to settle next to the other ones I’m fucking tired of carrying.
I tighten the blanket around my head and leave his comments unanswered. “He thinks it’s a hit. The whole damn thing.”
They’ve already taken every fucking thing from me. From us.
“Great,” I mumble into the fabric with a roll of my eyes, unimpressed with the news of the album I never intended to reach Archie and the boys at the label.
It was about having a fucking moment. Not selling another part of my damn soul.
“I know it’s about her.” Mac rebuts, yanking at the covers and succeeding in pulling the corner from my grasp. “Isn’t that what makes it good art? It’s got a piece of your soul in it.” He yanks, I tug, hair flings then sticks in my face and now I’m up on my feet fighting to get the comfort back. “Isn’t that what all artists do?”
Face to face with my twin, my breath huffs out in frustration. I was just fine in my little hole of existence all by myself and then my brother had to go and out it all.
“Macaroni!” I growl, spinning and wrapping my body up in the strung-out material between us so that his grip loosens. He lets go of the blanket, but flings his arms around and hugs tight around my chest, disabling my arms. I’m pinned in and tangled before I can blink, my brain foggier than I’d like to admit and in a feeble attempt to break free, I launch my whole body back to the couch.
Mac doesn’t break loose. Instead, he follows my move to the couch, landing on top of me and using my own blanket to hold me down.
“You gotta get up, Rex.” Desperation laces his spent words when I fight against his hold.
“I can’t if your ass is holding me down!” Just like magic, he shoots off the couch, releasing me with hands held up in surrender. He even takes a step back like I’m a wild animal sneering in his direction when he gets too close.
I lay there for a long moment, Mac standing over me as I huff and blow hair all over. It’s in my face, stuck to my furrowed brow, and in desperate need of washing.
“Rex …” My brother’s tone is full of warning. “Don’t make me call mom.”
Shit.
