Make Me (Remdy)

We All Lose It All

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death, panic attack, depression, injury description, PTSD

It's a receptionist from the hospital who tells him over the phone. At the time, he is playing with  Lucas. Snakes and Ladders. Lucas loves that game, he had quickly discovered, and the three of them play together. He, Lucas, and Juliet. It's fun and simple. 

The man on the phone sounds robotic. His voice doesn't waver; he's told the same news to so many, the effects are easy to hide now. 

Juliet is looking at him, alarmed at his paling face. "What's wrong?" She asks, but he just shakes his head and gets off the floor. Lucas requests another game, and, conflicted, Juliet agrees. She passes the dice to the child. 

He ascends the stairs two at a time. He needs a moment to calm down. If it was bad, the man on the phone would have said that. It isn't bad. It can't be bad. 

He sits on the bed and puts his head in his hands. Maybe he misheard. It's easy to do that over the phone. Crackly lines, muffled voices. Maybe nothing has happened and everything is fine. 

Maybe nothing is fine and everything has happened. 

Everything that he dreads. 

Maybe it's already too late and they're covering the body with a sheet. 

Maybe it's fine. 

He lifts his head. He should tell Juliet. Yes. He'll tell Juliet. She should know. And Lucas? Should he know, too? Or maybe it's better to keep it from the both of them. What they won't know can't hurt him. 

No, she needs to know. It's only fair he tells her. She's been staying with them, it's only fair. 

Decision made, he gets up, goes back down. They're still playing snakes and ladders and they're oblivious. Oblivion can be so beautiful. They're in a cloud of carelessness, why should he be the one to infect it? 

She looks at him. He's uneasy in the doorway. "What is it?" She asks. Lucas tells her it's her go so she rolls the dice and moves her counter. "What's wrong? You don't look great."

He just watches them. It's so beautiful. Their oblivion. They don't need to know. 

"Who was on the phone?" 

He drops his gaze to the ground before him and shakes his head. 

"Has something happened?" 

"There's..." He swallows. He needs a glass of water. Lucas looks so cute and simple. What he doesn't know can't hurt him. 

Juliet urges him to continue but he can't. They don't need to know. He can deal with it on his own. He's done it before, why stop now? "Are you gonna collapse or something?" She asks now, concern rising. "Seriously, you're whiter than a sheet of paper. What's happened? Lucas, honey, just a second." 

He swallows again. He really should get a glass of water. Lucas pulls on his mother's arm so she rolls the dice and plays her turn. 

It's probably nothing. 

He'd know if it wasn't nothing. 

He'd know, right? 

Again, Juliet asks what the matter is. She sounds agitated. He can't keep her in the dark. But what about her son? Why should he be dragged down, too? He shouldn't have to hear this. No one should have to hear this. 

There's a ringing in his ears. That must have been there already. 

She looks at him with anxious expectancy but he doesn't look back. He should listen to some of her music. She's supposed to be good, he's heard. He wonders if she's ever written a song about this. He feels unsteady, like the floor is tilted. He leans on the door frame and swallows for the third time. 

She asks him again. 

Lucas is getting fed up. He tugs on her arm repeatedly and she tells him to play by himself for a bit. He says he doesn't want to.

The floor is definitely titled. Maybe the room has started to shake. Tremble. Like an earthquake. He closes his eyes but he can still see. 

The road. The lorry. The oblivious smiles on their oblivious faces. They're so beautiful. 

They aren't travelling above the limit. They did nothing wrong. 

Nevertheless, the lorry is looming, swaying. 

They notice it. Too little, too late. 

It hits and he screams. He expected it before it happened but that doesn't stop him from screaming. His throat is raw and the blow is deafening. The shattering of glass, the mangling of metal. 

But worst of all. 

The silence of his brothers. 

After the blow, they don't make a sound. 

Only he screams. He wants them to join in but they don't. The chunk of car impaled into the elder's head makes him sick and the pain in his shoulder goes unnoticed. He cries and cries but it seems no one can hear a thing. No one can help them. 

They're already gone. 

There are hands on him. He snaps his eyes open and Juliet is close, face in deep concern, arms keeping him from falling. If he fell now, it would eternal. 

She helps him into a chair and he can still feel the jerk of the impact. He stumbles over breaths and she tells him to look at her. He does. She breathes with him until he is able to speak. Then she asks again, "Who was on the phone?" 

Staring her dead in the eyes, he opens his mouth, hesitates, and then says, "There's been an accident."