The Skeleton In Me

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

My mother hasn't come up to apologize, and I'm grateful for it. I don't expect her to, but everything she's done today has been out of character for her.  

The sun has set, and Jace had brought Cousin some of his old clothing, which I happily accepted. When he returned home, I sat on my bed for the first time in what feels like years. Cousin hasn't moved from the same spot on the floor since he arrived here, and I wasn't sure why. I'm scared he will regress back to sitting all day, and I don't want that. His body has finally been getting used to moving, and he needs to keep exercising, or he will get weak again.

There's a knock on my door, and both my eyes, and Cousin's stare at it, cautiously. "It's me, Bexley." Katie's voice is a relief to hear, as I stand up and unlock the door letting her in, before locking it again.

She's holding two plates. One plate has two sandwiches on it, and the other plate has just one. "I brought us some dinner." She says, though it were obvious.

I smile, "Thank you."

I watch her set the plate with the single sandwich on it in front of Cousins, and then walk over to my bed where her and I both sit down, and grab a sandwich of our own.

We eat in silence, but I notice Katie's eyes keep darting to Cousin, "Does he not like it?" She's referring to him not eating, and I shake my head.

"It's hard to get him to eat anything, really."

There's a frown on her face, and she just stares at him, studying him. After a long, quiet moment she speaks, "He's been through a lot, hasn't he." She doesn't say it like a question, but more like a statement. I only nod.

"He's nothing but bones and scars." She says, turning to me, "He needs professional help. He needs a doctor, a physical therapist, a psychiatrist, and years of therapy."

"I know." I sigh, "But I don't know how to get him it."

She nods, "I think I do."

"How?"

"I can get you a job where I work." Katie goes from school to school tutoring kids in math. "You've always been good at English and grammar, tutoring a bunch of middle schoolers will be nothing to you. I also know how you can make some money writing essays online for inept college students. It pays well enough that if you keep doing it, you should be able to afford a small, albeit rundown, apartment."

The hope in my chest dies, "I can't."

She looks at me, surprised, "Why not?"

I don't know how to sugarcoat it, and I see no point in doing so. "I can't leave him alone."

Her eyes narrow, "He's not a child, Bexley, he can stand to be alone for a few hours."

"He tried to kill himself. He begged me to do it." I know he's listening, but I had to tell her. If she had an idea on how he is, maybe she'd understand better.

It does it's job in silencing her, though. Her eyes widen a bit, and her shoulders slump, "Oh." Is all she said, and I say nothing at all.

Her eyes move back to him, and he's glaring up at her. He looks as though he's ready to attack her, and I don't know how to console him.

My sister obviously notices his look, and speaks directly to him, "I would never hurt you." She says it in a tone so gentle as though she were calming a baby, "I hope you come to understand that one day. I'm on your side."

He doesn't seem to care. In fact I think her talking to him puts him even more on edge. I notice him clench his fists, and I wonder, for a second, if he really is going to jump and attack her.