Slate | ✓

TWENTY-TWO | ATHENA

Henry sits across from me on the bedroom floor as his fat fingers grip my outstretched ankle. His grey eyes are round, wide open, and too big for his face. Spit begins to bubble around his bottom lip. "Do you think I should call my Mom?" I ask, rolling one of his toy cars towards him.

Henry smiles as the car approaches and reaches forward to grab onto it. The sound of running water saves the house from utter silence. Annie practically shoved Henry into my arms after announcing she was going to take a shower. Victor, Charlie, and Lizzie are all gone somewhere. I didn't care to ask why. The aftershocks of John's speech today was still caught in their faces, like a video paused at the wrong moment.

"She would have liked you," I say, guiding the toy away from Henry's mouth. "Kids made her really happy. She was always pinching the cheeks of every baby we saw ever. I guess if she was still around, you wouldn't even exist." Henry stares at me blankly. "Can I tell you a secret? Before you were born, I really wished you'd be a girl. I'm sick of brothers. So, you have to be better than the rest of them."

"What are you doing?" The voice makes me jolt so violently that even Henry looks concerned.

"Jesus Christ, don't do that," I complain, my hand jumping to my chest. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm watching Henry so Annie can take her goddamn shower."

"I meant, what are you doing in here?" Will creeps in from the hallway and throws his gym bag on the foot of his bed. He wears a disheveled green shirt and water clings to the tips of his hair. It looks as if he's been vigorously scrubbing his face raw. A red tint discolours his skin.

Henry reaches for him when he sits down on the edge of his bed, but Will doesn't look like he even notices. His bloodshot green eyes dart around the room. This doesn't match the careful, caved slant of his body, like he's hiding some injury. 

"I've got squatters in my bed..." I trail off as whatever I'm trying to say dissipates in my mind. "Are you okay?" I need him to nod, even if it's not true.

"I'm fine." He covers his eyes with trembling hands. "Tired. Just tired."

My heart jumps to my throat. It pounds with the knowledge that ignoring this now is not something either of us will walk away from. There's something on the table here— some last shred of when we used to walk to school together, or stayed up past our bedtime playing. Some buried tissue that was protected from Charlie and salvaged from before Will came home from the hospital. It survived that initial attack, and has remained despite everything since.

"Are you coming home?"

"I've been walking. I kind of, like, ended up here." His eyes remain closed, and he looks smaller than he is. "I did something really stupid, Athena. I don't want to be like that."

"What are you talking about?" I can't keep the discomfort from my voice. Will and I don't talk about this, we argue around it until he's able to retreat and I can go on not thinking about what's easier to ignore.

He turns his face away from me, and I notice something about his body begins to change, like his whole frame is unstable. His breathing picks up. "Can you just, like, go?" A quivering edge to his voice appears that wasn't there before. "Please."

"Will?" I can't do this, it should be John. I need John. "Are you okay?" I ask again, useless.

I remember how distraught he looked days ago in the main office. Is this the same thing? He refuses to look at me as eyes continuing to dart around the room like they're desperate to find something tangible.

Eventually, his gaze falls on the three photos I've been pouring over the past day. A younger version of himself stares back at him. A bolt runs through me and I have the sudden urge to rip them up. To either protect them from him, or him from them, I'm not sure. Why was I stupid enough to leave them out?