“I know what you’re doing,” his voice is so close to the door my heart rate picks up waiting to see how this will play out. I don’t reply, just silently pray he doesn’t push this morning. It was wrong of me to come last night, and getting drunk and ending up in his bed was the last thing I needed.

“Your clothes are on my bed,” he finally breaks the silence.

“Okay, thank you, and sorry about last night,” I apologize, feeling more like a fool as the minutes tick by in our silence.

“I wish you would open the door, but I get it. I’ll see you soon and we’ll talk then.” I force myself to hold in my objection. I can’t see him again. I don’t think I would survive.

“Bye, Holly,” he whispers, but it doesn’t sound like a goodbye, more like a promise. After a few moments of quiet, I risk it and open the door. The room is empty, and my dress lies clean on the bed. Lost in the embarrassment, I quickly dress and try to hatch a plan to get out of here without being seen. The last thing I need is for everyone to think I’m doing the walk of shame. Even though Sy and I didn’t do anything, other than him cleaning up my vomit, I feel like I’m sneaking out. I hold in the urge to vomit again. I take a breath, send up a prayer and get the hell out of there.

PAST

Sy

“We want to take her home,” I say, exhausted and defeated. He warned us of this in the beginning when the bone marrow transplant failed, but Katie still held on to the hope it wouldn’t come to this. Today we’re letting go of that hope.

“We can discuss your options,” Dr. Parks says, looking up from his notes.

“As soon as possible,” I insist, looking down at her sleeping body. My daughter’s life slips away from me and I have to sit here, and watch it as it happens in this small fucking room. I can't take it any longer.

“We can arrange home hospice care. Let me talk with her team and we will go from there,” he says, leaving us alone.

“Are you sure you want this?” Katie asks across from me.

“It’s not about what I want; it’s what she wants." I know this is the best thing for her, for us.

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” she protests, but I don’t listen. Just looking down at her, I know this is the best thing. If she’s not asleep, we’re waking her up for treatment only to medicate her again. What sort of life is this for her?

“She knows what she wants. If this is it, we will give it to her.” Leaning down, I kiss her pale skin.

“Are we giving up?” she asks. It’s a question I’ve struggled with for the last few weeks.

“Katie, you know this is the best thing for her. We don’t want her to be on the machine and have these tubes coming out of her when she goes,” I declare, absolute.

“I know. I just feel like we’re giving up,” she sobs into our daughter’s hair, stroking it away from her face.

“We aren't. We're giving her a chance at a peaceful passing. This part matters to her.” I walk around the bed to comfort Katie. As much as I struggle to move past the hurt she has brought on us, I can’t bear to see her break. “You know it’s time, Katie. She’s ready. We need to let her go,” I tell her, hating every moment of it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Holly

I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m gasping to get my old self back. Desperation claws at me as my soul craves a sense of peace, yet no matter how hard I try, how hard I pretend, I can’t seem to push past the pain that suffocates me. I’ve tried everything to break through this darkness that keeps pulling me down. It controls me, threatens to take me, and I fight it. I do, but some days, it’s too much.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” Sam, my older brother, yells from the other side of the bathroom door, sending the dark shadows away. Jesus, I’ve been doing so well. What the hell is going on?

“Getting ready,” I yell back, still looking at myself in the mirror. I’d like to think no one sees the pain I hide, but some days, even I look at myself and see my reflection telling me I’m a fraud. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I exhale and prepare to face him.

“Well, hurry up. I need a shower,” he replies, like every other morning after he’s stayed the night.

“Maybe if you stayed at your place, you wouldn't have to wait.” I paste on my fake smile. The one I’ve perfected, the one I hide behind, and open the door to face him.

“Why would I want to do that?” he laughs, flicking my nose as he walks past me, slamming the door shut.

“Asshole,” I yell, walking down the hall to start the coffee maker.

“Love you too, little sis,” he calls back. Hearing those words today settles some of the uneasiness I’ve been feeling since seeing Sy again at Kadence’s party. Today is a good day. Today is going to be better, I remind myself while setting the coffeepot up. If you had asked me three months ago where I saw myself this year, this would not be my answer. I never imagined my days would only get better with the help of anxiety pills. But grief isn’t predictable; it can strike so hard that even the strongest fall. When you live your life in color, surrounded by happiness, yet your world is painted with grief, how do you find equilibrium?

“You doing okay, sis?” Sam grills me, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Yep,” I answer, looking up at him from my spot in the kitchen.

“What are you doing just standing there?” Reaching over, he flicks the switch on the coffee machine. Shit.