Alamort

29. Crew

Meet you at the Graveyard - Cleffy

T he cool, smooth touch of the old white marble fireplace in the corner of my room brings back memories of our first family vacation to Europe, when Elijah Cox proudly showed us off as a family for the first time. It held too much sentimental value for me to leave it behind. Not that I would ever admit it to anyone. Ice clinks the side of my glass as I slam back the rest of the amber liquid in my glass, savoring the burn as it goes down.

My scowl sweeps across the sterile walls and bare furniture of my four-year dwelling, devoid of character or warmth. A black leather platform bed takes center stage in the room, emanating a luxurious but cold aura. The barn’s A-frame has been replaced with a towering window, filling the room with natural moonlight. Nightstands and a dresser provide practical and stylish touches. My fist clenches against the whiskey tumbler.

Pathetic. Eighteen years of life and nothing to show for it.

Failing to contain my rage, I fling the empty glass towards the blazing fire, shattering it into sparkling shards. Enjoying the sound it makes as it hits its mark. As my footsteps reverberate through the space, I reach for the bottle on the side table and forego the shattered glass scattered on the floor. Settling right back into the leather chair that’s molded to my body from countless hours of staring at the fire.

Any time I’m struggling, it’s as if Ben has a second sense that’s in tune with mine. The more time we spent together, the more the four of us effortlessly synced and found a harmony. Echoing footsteps bounce off the wall and stop, taking up the seat next to me. Without looking up, I know the second part of my soul when it enters the room. The fire crackles as it finishes its destruction on the wood before beginning to eat away at the next victim in its path. No thought or remorse for the damage it makes.

Holding the bottle by its slender neck, I take a slow sip before setting it on the ground. Bracing my forearms on my knees, I focus on the crackling fire, attempting to communicate my feelings to Bennett.

“I’m sorry, Bennie.” I rarely use his childhood nickname unless I’m mocking him. Using it now, I pray it tells him I’m being sincere. I keep my emotions to myself. But for my brothers? It’s unnecessary. We are all we have. Without acknowledging me, he snatches up the bottle and takes a mouthful, the sound of liquid sloshing loud emphasizes my sparse room. Him staying is acknowledgment enough.

Clearing my throat from the emotions trying to claw its way up, I continue. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I tried. Regardless of the battles I was facing, there wasn’t a day I didn’t try.” Emotions aren’t something we all share very often. It’s something all four of us keep buried, but in order to earn his forgiveness, he’ll need my honesty. The truth.

“Steve,” The mere mention of his name brings a bitter taste to my tongue, causing the remnants of tonight’s drink to churn in my stomach. Trying again, I want him to understand. Our time away from each other wasn’t something either of us have relived together, agreeing ignorance is bliss.

“Steve wasn’t a kind man. He beat me constantly. You’re aware of that much.” Bennett’s slight nod shows me I have his attention.

As I steel myself to speak, the sound of my shaky breath fills the tense silence between us as I build up the courage to reveal my past as he did earlier. “My punishments were always the worst when I tried to find you.” I admit quietly as he studies me. “Those days, he would push my face into the bathtub that he would fill with cold water and hold my head underneath. I’d fight with everything I had, but between the starving and daily beatings, there wasn’t much left. When I could no longer fight, the feeling of a knife being twisted in my chest would become overwhelming and I’d start inhaling water until I lost consciousness. He would resuscitate me. Over and over again until he got bored. The cycle never stopped. In the last moments when long awaited peace would wash over me it would be apologies to you. For not being stronger, for giving up, for being tired. And every time I came back, I would fight. For you. I knew I couldn’t leave you here.” That’s not the worst of it, but he needs to know I never gave up on him, not even in my darkest moments. “My biggest regret was letting him know you were my one weakness.”

The fire is still going strong. No chance of dying out anytime soon. But its warmth does little to stave off the frigid feeling of the bathroom, cornered by Steve’s toothless sneer and soulless black eyes or the heavy weight of his hands on my body. The plaid flannel he always wore with a greasy white shirt. At one point, he shot me up with heroin, using the same needle he used for himself. And if that fucked me up, I can’t comprehend what kind of damage it does to someone long term.

Bennett’s discreet sniffling pulls me out of my nightmares. I’m on my feet, squatting in front of him before I realize I’m moving. I pull him toward me until his forehead meets mine. We sit like that for a minute, understanding and acceptance passing through the bond we have. Kissing his hair, my hand wraps around the neck of the bottle, bringing it with me before taking my seat next to him.

The heavy oak of my bedroom door creaks open. Cue the third person in our makeshift quadruplet. Saint walks in with a black hoodie and jeans on. His blonde hair is damp from a fresh shower. A faint smell of coconut trails after him. Taking his seat beside Bennett, all of our eyes fixate on the vacant fourth chair that will forever stay empty. The heaviness of his absence fills the room, adding to the already somber atmosphere.

“I miss him.” Saint says softly. Leave it to him to make us face our emotions head on. Nodding, it hurts too much to admit he’s gone.

“Yeah, me too,” Bennett adds in with a wistful smile. “Remember all the plans he had for us? He wanted to live together until we were old. Build a house out in the woods for the four of us with a house on the property for dad. All these ideas for drug addicts and children in need. That damn humanitarian.” He laughs. The organ where my heart should be aches and it only spurs my hatred towards Priya. Someone robbed him of those dreams. He will never get to live them out with us. He’ll never live to graduate, have children or get married.

“Remember the first-time dad caught us street racing? Man, the cops bringing us home. He almost popped that blood vessel in his temple that throbs when he’s mad. I swear he was going to need an ambulance. Ty spouted some bullshit about the cops chasing him.” Saint lets out a belly laugh, reminiscing about our childhood shenanigans. Happiness teases the edges of my heart, seeing Saint and Bennett laughing together.

Raising my glass to our dead best friend, I toast to his empty chair, something we would say when we did something reckless that could get us killed. “To Death and back.” Each of my brothers' voices echo after me, taking a drink to seal the deal.