The Hours We Have

chapter twelve

I couldn't sleep and I couldn't go out on the roof tonight. 

It had been raining all day and even when night fell, the rain didn't cease. I didn't go back downstairs, even when I could smell someone cooking dinner, and I figured Mikeal had come home sometime before dark. I just didn't have the energy to leave my room. It was well past midnight and I sat at my desk, scribbling thoughts in my journal beneath the lonely light of my lamp.

One of the things I enjoyed doing was writing but sometimes it was hard to find time to do it. That seemed to be an ongoing issue lately, finding the time. Tonight, I seemed to have all the time in the world because my mind was heavy and I needed to talk about it, even if the words on the page couldn't talk back. At least the ink would listen. 

I found it cliche and flawed when people always say that time heals wounds. It's just not true. It had been three years and nothing had healed in my family over that span of time. I think, that over time, we just get used to the pain. After all, we need the pain to know we are alive, or is that just another lie they tell us? 

But sometimes, those wounds can be reopened. Time is simply time, it passes without a single regard to life, and it never stops for a second. Healing should never be placed in the category of time. There is no time in the heart and soul, just growth. 

Time doesn't heal emotional wounds, growth does. But, growth is a choice, an effort, and a tired soul doesn't have the energy. When too many pieces had been lost from the puzzle, what then? I had all these questions in my head, these emotions that controlled my pen, and I was anxious about the future because it was darker than a moonless night. 

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard something distantly shatter downstairs. For the briefest moment, I thought another fight was ensuing, and my heart accelerated but I remembered I had heard the twins go to bed around eleven-thirty. I glanced at the clock, it was well past one am now. 

Still, I set my pen down and went to investigate. I traveled downstairs barefoot and I saw the kitchen light on. Standing in front of the sink, with both hands braced on the edge, Ezra was drenched to the bone. I moved closer and noticed a glass bottle shattered in the sink.

"Ezra?" I asked quietly. 

He spun around, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, "What are you doing up?" I instantly frowned at the slight slur in his words. 

"Are you drunk?" 

He slowly blinked at me, "Maybe? I...don't really know anymore." He didn't take his hand off the sink edge, as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. "It's late, you should be asleep." 

"So should you, did you just get home?" I asked but I knew the answer by his soaked clothes. 

A half-chuckle escaped him, his eyes straying off, but he didn't answer my question. I watched as he swayed on his feet a little and then I moved closer to grip his arm. Within the close proximity, I could smell the alcohol on his breath and disappointment weighed on my heart.

"Come on," I said. He glanced at the sink and then at me before he let go of the sink and stepped forward. When he teetered to the side, I gripped his entire arm and slung it around my own shoulders, "I can't believe you." I muttered. 

He heard me and snorted. "Me? That's fucking rich." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped and paused at the bottom of the stairs so he could gain his bearings. He gripped the railing with his free hand and we started up the steps, thank god he didn't lose his balance because he was almost twice my weight. 

"Oh, I don't know," He said rather bitterly, "Ever since Mom died, you've been trying to replace her, and I just think that's really un-fucking-believable." 

How many people were going to tell me that? "Well, what else am I supposed to do? Pretend she's still alive and then everything will be fine?" He was silent at the bite of my words and I continued from the hurt I felt, "Come on, Ezra. Tell me what I'm supposed to do when our parents were murdered and we got thrown headfirst into this shitty world?" 

We made it to the top of the stairs and Ezra's room was just across the hall from mine. He remained silent as we walked with his offside close to the wall. When he opened his door, I went in with him instead of just throwing his arm off and ditching him. Even when his words always seemed to hurt me. 

"Tell me," I said once more when he nearly collapsed into his chair because I wouldn't let him flop on his bed and get it soaking wet with his clothes. 

His dark eyes met mine. "Fuck, I don't know," He ran a hand through his dripping hair, "You think this is easy for any of us? Jesus, I don't know what to do and it's just getting harder to try and figure these things out," He paused for a moment, glancing away from me, "I wish I hadn't dropped out of college." 

I froze. "What?" 

"You heard me," He grumbled darkly, "If I had just stayed in and got my shit done, I could actually do something other than being this worthless waste of space. I could at least have a decent job instead of chasing these jobs that pay shit poor." 

My own anger dissipated and I exhaled. "You are not worthless. It might be hard but we're making it." 

"Barely," His eyes met mine with lucidity, and for once, he wasn't hiding in the dark. I realized he was letting me in for the briefest moment, "We only had six dollars left over after Mikeal paid the bills this month. It's getting more expensive to be alive and--fuck if we even have the money to cover next month," His jaw tightened, "Wanna know what I think? Fuck being alive, this life is just a fucking joke because all we do is pay bills and die anyway. What's the goddamn point?"

"Ezra--" 

He cut me off. "Don't fucking lecture me, okay? I just need to..." He roughly exhaled, eyes closing briefly, "I thought about finishing my credits online like you and getting my degree but I don't have money, we don't have money, so I don't know what the fuck to do anymore. I just... don't know." He rubbed at his jaw, his eyes falling to the floor. 

I didn't either. As I stood there, in the threshold of his room, as he was drunk enough to admit his feelings, I didn't know what to tell him. That it will be okay? Yeah, right. I didn't feel like anything would ever be okay. We were still kids trying to survive in an adult world and we didn't have anyone to guide us, so we kept getting helplessly lost. 

Ezra was done talking, I knew he was when he stood up and began rifling through his drawers for dry clothes. He wasn't as tipsy anymore, it seemed, so I wordlessly left his room. He didn't need my help anymore and he wouldn't listen to anything I said, I knew that. I crossed the hall and softly closed my door but his words were heavy on my heart. 

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This got unexpectedly heavy.

Ezra's character finally opened up a little, jesus I feel like I've been prying at him with a crowbar ever since I started this book and he's been stubbornly blank with me. But what he said about being alive? Yeah, I agree. 

Real fact: My second oldest brother got shitfaced drunk once and he's sworn to never drink again, so I included that little symbolism in this chapter. Shh... don't tell him.