INSTA-FAMILY

3. Vaughn

3

VAUGHN

Clutching an empty cardboard box to my chest, I pushed open the door to Duke’s room, and then I just stood there, staring into the darkened abyss.

I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t go inside. Not yet.

Legs shaking and sweat gathering, I collapsed to my knees and gasped. The box threatened to collapse in my arms as I squeezed it close and bowed my head.

Eyes clamped shut, I tried to settle my ragged breaths by inhaling deeply as I sat the rest of the way down and pressed my back to the hallway wall, but it didn’t help. It still felt like I was going to lose my s**t at any moment.

I don’t know what was wrong with me.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t done this before. I’d only been nineteen when my parents had died in a car accident. A freshman in college, I’d dropped out of school to come home and take care of my thirteen-year-old brother. And there was no way Duke had wanted anything to do with cleaning out their room after they were gone, meaning the entire, agonizing task had been left up to me.

So why couldn’t I clean out his room now that he was gone?

And why was it so much harder to accept the fact that my baby brother was dead too?

Pushing the now-tattered box off my lap, I pulled my knees up to my chest so I could hug them, and I recalled the last meaningful conversation we’d had together before he had passed.

He’d been bedridden by that time, his bones and muscles too exhausted to even try much movement. Every shift he made on the mattress caused him to wince and clutch his swollen abdomen. His face had a pale, bluish tinge and was perpetually damp from the constant night sweats and recurring fevers, and he coughed a lot due to the tumors pressing on his trachea.

His appetite had been gone, and when he tried to eat, his nausea typically caused him to vomit it all up, anyway. I’d learned to bring him the blandest, most odorless liquid meals possible—since chewing also hurt his jaws—and even then, he’d begun to turn up his nose at everything I offered him.

“Got you some supper,” I announced, keeping my voice quiet as I nudged the door open with my toe and entered. “Lentils and broth.”

With a groan, Duke had turned his face to the side and barely lifted a hand, rejecting it.

I could still remember the vile flood of panic that hit my taste buds. I wanted to take the soup to him anyway, manually open his jaws with my hand and pour it down his throat, anything to replenish his strength and get him out of this state. But he looked so miserable, I couldn’t argue with a single thing he wanted.

So I’d swallowed down the fear and nodded, backing from the room to return the bowl to the kitchen. When I returned, I carried a hardback with the bookmark sticking out at about the three-quarters finished area.

“Want me to read to you?” I asked, starting for the chair at his bedside and settling down.

He hadn’t wanted to watch TV in the last few days, all the noise and action and lights gave him a headache. So I had started reading to him to keep him company.

And as I sat, opening the book on my lap, he slowly turned his head to look at me from bleary, bloodshot eyes. “Now I know I’m dying,” he announced, his parched lips cracking as he offered me a tired smile. “You didn’t argue with me about the food.”

He made a valid point. For the last seven years since he’d been diagnosed, I’d argued and pushed, forcing him to try every available treatment and take care of himself. And the fact that I hadn’t even made a comment when he’d turned down the meal told both of us just how f*****g scared I was.

But he’d gone downhill so fast. One day, he’d been his normal, annoying self, with a slight cough. And now he was...this.

He’d had numerous ups and downs over the years, being bedridden and popping back as if nothing had happened. But this… This terrified me more than I’d ever been terrified. Something was missing from his eyes whenever he looked at me. It was like he’d already stopped living.

Hands trembling, I slowly closed the book and kept my palms pressed hard against both covers as I simply looked at him, trying to will him to recover with my begging stare alone.

He shifted his head slightly, his version of a nod, and then he said, “I think I’m ready to get real now,” before pausing to cough and catch his breath.

But I shook my head and lifted a hand, my chin trembling and eyes watering. “No. Duke, it’s fine. You don’t—”

He spoke over me, his cancer-ridden vocal cords making his voice rough and guttural. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“What?!” With incredulous outrage, I sniffed. “Alright, just don’t, okay? You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. Jesus, Duke, you have no control over this. I have no control over it. It... It just...is.”

Dammit. I knew my voice would break if I kept trying to talk, so I stopped.

Which gave my wheezing brother time to answer. “I was an ass to you. All these years you took care of me, and I rebelled at every turn.”

I started to shake my head again as he paused to cough. “You’re the younger brother,” I excused. “That’s your job.”

I didn’t care how hard he’d made my life; this was not something I’d forgive him for because there wasn’t a f*****g thing to forgive.

“And I’m sorry about Lucy,” he added once he could talk again.

I blinked, then furrowed my brow. “Lucy?”

Neither of us had said a word about her since the morning she’d left this very room and never returned. I had stared after her, watching her leave, then turned back to Duke and ordered him to get his ass ready for his appointment.

Why the hell was he bringing her up now?

Duke’s eyes filled with pain as he confessed, “I slept with her on purpose.”

I snorted, muttering, “Obviously. I’m not sure how you could’ve lured her back to our place and had s*x with her by accident.”

“No.” He closed his eyes briefly, then tried again. “I chose her on purpose because I knew you liked her.”

“What? No. I don’t—” Pausing because I needed a moment to calm myself, I pressed my lips together and watched Duke fight his shortness of breath.

Then I answered, “I don’t even know that woman. How could I like her?”

Yes, I’d enjoyed watching her eat her lunch one day outside Beriss. I’d been interested and attracted, and okay, it had rubbed me wrong when I’d seen her come out of Duke’s bedroom that morning, but then I’d moved on and frankly forgotten about it.

“I think you would, though,” Duke answered, through a cough. “If you knew her, you’d like her. She’s actually really nice. Too nice for my taste. But not yours.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead violently. “It doesn’t matter,” I assured. “If the two of you clicked and—”

“No,” he cut in. “No!” When he used more energy and vehemence than I’d seen him have in days, I stopped trying to argue to let him have his say. And after catching his breath again, he told me, “That’s the thing. We didn’t click. We never clicked. I f****d her to hurt you. On purpose.”

“What?” I hissed incredulously, shaking my head. Then I blinked, trying to make sense of his words in my brain because they sounded insane. Finally, I just asked, “Why?”

“Because I wanted you mad,” he told me, his gaze full of agony. “I wanted you to hate me. That way…” When another coughing fit hit, he tried to talk through it. “That way… That way, you wouldn’t be so sad and miss me after I’m gone.”

“Oh, for f**k’s sake.” I sighed and rubbed at my forehead. “Really?”

“But… But I changed my mind,” he went on, making my heart hurt. “I do want you to miss me. I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Duke, I don’t...” My eyes filled with immediate tears. “I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you should.”

“God.” When a sob grated painfully from my throat, I shoved the book off my lap and slid from the chair, falling to my knees at his bedside to grip his arm.

Grief sluiced through me in a violent wave as I shook my head and gritted my teeth. “You really are one stupid son of a b***h,” I charged, through watery eyes and heaving, uneven breaths. “You know that? Because nothing on this green earth could keep me from missing you after you’re gone. Nothing anyone said, nothing anyone did, nothing. Not even anything you say or do against me. No one will miss you as much as I will. You got that? You’re everything to me. Everything.”

Choked up by my misery, I leaned in and pressed my head to his frail shoulder. And then I broke open, unable to contain it anymore.

All the words I’d been keeping locked in tight, spilled out as I begged him. “Jesus, Duke. Please... Don’t go. I’m not ready. I don’t know how to do this without you. I’ll do anything, please… Just keep f*****g breathing. You’re my entire world, and I can’t… I can’t...”

His hand touched my hair. “You can,” he told me simply. “You will.”

“No.” I sat up, wiping my eyes and nose, and making a complete mess of myself but not caring. “I don’t even want to think about it.” It was too hard. Too overwhelming.

“But you’re the one who takes care of things,” Duke said simply. “Now it’s time to take care of you.”

When I sniffed back more tears and continued to wipe my eyes, he pressed, “Promise me.”

So I immediately answered, “Okay,” willing to promise him anything. “I’ll take care of myself. I promise.”

He breathed out a relieved breath and closed his eyes. “Good. Love you, Vaughn.”

More tears gushed down my cheeks. “I love you too, little brother.”

His lips cracked again as he attempted a smile. Then he murmured, “Tired.”

“Okay. Sleep,” I urged, reaching out to touch his face to acknowledge that his fever was returning. “I’ll stay with you.”

Until the end.

He didn’t answer, already falling unconscious, and he stayed asleep throughout the next day. When he woke up again, he wasn’t cognizant enough to speak true words to me. I asked hospice if he needed to be hospitalized when they came to check in, but I was assured that there was no need. If he wanted to be home, he could stay home, where he was the most comfortable.

Three days later, he died in his sleep, tucked in his own bed.

And I hadn’t been able to go into his room since they’d wheeled his body away.

Thumping my head back on the wall of the hallway next to his door, I choked out a dry sound and tried to persuade myself to get up and walk in there, already. It’d been over two months now. I should be able to do this.

But I couldn’t. I could not for the life of me go and simply sort through his things.

I didn’t want to do any of this, frankly. I didn’t want to be here, sitting alone, cleaning up after everyone who’d left me. I didn’t want to be alive, on this earth, forced to endure their absence.

What was even the point? My entire family was gone. I had no one. Coworkers were nice and tried to understand, asking if I needed anything, but none of them truly got it. My pain was unpleasant and uncomfortable for them, so they mostly avoided me.

It was miserable, and I just... I was done.

Check, please.

I wanted to be gone with them.

Eyes flashing open, I realized something with immediate clarity.

I didn’t have to keep going without them, did I? I could just end it, here and now. No more misery. No more pain. No more oppressive solitude. There’d just be...nothing.

God, nothing sounded nice right now.

Dark, blessed, beautiful nothing.

The idea was so enticing that I surged to my feet, ready to implement my journey into nothingness immediately before I could fully think it through and possibly change my mind.

The intoxicating thrill of determination flooded my veins.

A gun would be the best choice. So quick it’d be painless and instant. But I didn’t own a firearm, so my mind wandered on to other possibilities.

Pills would take too long, and I wasn’t sure I had anything effective enough on hand in my medicine cabinet, anyway.

Cutting seemed like it’d be painful and messy and take too long too. And pain was what I was trying to avoid here. Besides, I wanted something I couldn’t change my mind and back out of once I started it. And I could still call for help if I was just sitting there, bleeding out.

It’d have to be by hanging, then. There’d be no way to stop that once it got underway.

Yes. That was it. I’d hang myself.

Racking my brain for something I could use for the rope, I rushed down the hall toward the garage. When I could find nothing even vaguely rope-like, I cursed and shoved over a metal shelf full of old rags and oil containers. It crashed to the floor with a resounding clang, and as an old tent that was bundled in its carrying bag rolled across the floor, I focused on the pull cord that kept it closed. Then I attacked, surging toward it and snagging it from its bag.

The damn thing was too short, but maybe I had similar cords around the house I could tie together to make a good-enough noose to get the job done.

I returned inside and opened a closet, only to focus on the vacuum cleaner...or more specifically on the plug-in cord connected to the vacuum cleaner. Now that would make the perfect rope.

So...where to do it?

The front room was the most optimal place. With a vaulted ceiling, it had these large wooden cross beams perfect for my needs. Dragging in a kitchen chair from the dining room, I stood on the seat and tied the cord onto the high beam. Once it was in place, I heaved out a breath, wondering what needed to be done next.

But I think I had everything covered. I was here, prepared to proceed.

Realizing what the final step was, I swallowed and glanced around the living room to say my goodbyes.

Was this really it, then? I was just going to do this?

I blinked, my gaze focusing sharply. Duke and I hadn’t changed the house much since Mom and Dad had passed, so we still had the same furniture as when we’d been kids. The four of us had camped out on the couch almost every Saturday evening for movie night. We rarely agreed on what to watch so we always seemed to settle on superhero movies.

Damn, I thought. But how in the hell had it come to this?

My gaze landed on the pictures on the wall. Most were family portraits Mom had hung over the years. There were toothless grade school shots of both me and Duke, and more, continuing through to our senior year.

Across the room, Mom and Dad’s wedding portrait was surrounded by more pictures of the family.

Of memories.

Promise me, Duke’s voice echoed through my head, stirring up another memory. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.

“f*****g hell,” I muttered, my eyes watering. I didn’t want to remain in this world without them—there was nothing here for me—but I’d promised.

I’d told him I’d be okay.

But I wasn’t, and I didn’t want to keep the promise. I couldn’t.

It was too hard.

Except dammit, I’d never broken a promise to Duke before.

Why the hell had he made me swear such an impossible thing? I didn’t want to stay. There was no reason for me to remain here and suffer. No family or people who—

A knock on the front door had me jumping so hard, I nearly tumbled off the chair.

“Christ,” I hissed, pressing a hand to my heart and glad I hadn’t looped the vacuum cleaner cord around my neck yet.

My pulse skyrocketed with nerves as I hopped onto the carpet. Even though it was impossible for anyone to know, I still wondered if someone had figured out my plan.

Hoping no one was here to stop me, I hurried to the entrance to see who it was.

Then I used my body to block the interior so my visitor couldn’t see in, and I opened the door, peering out.

I did not expect to find the person who stood on my doorstep at all.