Bulletproof

The ride seemed to take forever. The worst possible scenarios played out in my head like horror movies. They picked at my brain when I blinked. I didn’t have anything to do to distract myself- that was, until I grabbed Ray’s hand and started playing with his fingers. His hand had been the closest to mine, and it wouldn’t help if I were to fidget with my own hands. He (patiently, bless him) allowed it, seeming to neither mind nor care. I just wiggled his fingers around with my own, paying unnecessary amounts of attention to the way the skin moved, the way the joint felt when I curled the finger, and the way it looked. When I grew bored with his fingers and my attention slipped, I brought it back by looking at all the creases in his palm. Some were shallow, others more worn in and permanent looking. I paid attention to how far the bone in the heel of his palm protruded, even. He was a very good sport about it all, for which I was absently grateful.

Soon enough (and in some sense or another, much too soon), I felt the car slowing down. I gave Ray his hand back, and he gave me an easy smile. I tried to return it, but I know my mouth only formed a tense, worried line. We were close to the building, but there was something off. These were normal (well, late, but still normal) business hours, but the place was apparently abandoned. All of the blinds had been drawn inside, much like they had been during my previous visit. The ball of tension in my stomach swelled and threatened to suffocate me. I swallowed, probably much louder than socially acceptable, staring unblinkingly out the window. Gerard pulled to a stop, and I moved off of the laps of my friends in a sort of trance, my legs feeling like I was trying to walk underwater. I was floating, but not in the happy way. Toddling off towards the doors, I didn’t bother to wait for anyone; it wouldn’t take much to catch me at this point anyway.

I felt an intense frown on my face, but I couldn’t make it go away. I didn’t even try. Something was off here. I could feel it all the way to my tired, aching bones. The air wasn’t right, gravity was off. Something wasn’t right.

I touched the handle to the front door with a hand that didn’t register in my mind as my own. I saw my hand touching the door, but I didn’t feel the metal (which should’ve been hot from the scorching sun from just a little while ago) on my fingertips. I gazed curiously at my hand touching the door, wondering why that was. It was only when the door went flying open as if I’d kicked it that my eyes snapped up to meet with Sasha’s. Her eyes, blue and so much like my own, were lined in red, and the mascara she’d been wearing had run down her cheeks, painting watercolor gray down her face. I frowned.

“Thank God you’re here, Harley,” she choked, and then rushed back inside and around the corner. I could hear her feet hitting the steps as she ran up the stairs, into Nic and Christian’s living area. I wandered after her dreamily, not really paying attention to my surroundings. Good thing I had observant friends behind me, too, otherwise I would’ve missed all the foreshadowing of what was to come.

“Jesus,” Frank muttered from somewhere behind me. I didn’t turn around or even halt my dreamy, waltzing pace. I just kept on floating towards the stairs.

“Grace, wait, watch your step!” I heard Kindred exclaim. That was a little more strange to hear. After all, Frank could have simply been praising the lord for all I knew. It was a little harder to write off whatever Kindred was taking about. My brow furrowed and there was a hitch in my step. I turned and saw all of my friends huddled in on one another, staring after me. I frowned at them- was this really the time to be paying attention to me?- but I noticed that they weren’t really looking at me, exactly. More like my feet, or maybe the floor. I looked down too, curious. I blinked at the crimson footsteps on the floor that led directly to me feet. Was I bleeding? I looked down at myself. It definitely was not me that was bleeding all over the floor. I followed the footprints backwards, seeing a sizable puddle and many smaller droplets. I turned and looked in front of where I was standing, seeing the same splotches of red dotting the floor. I took a few hesitant steps forward.

Of course there was blood on the carpeted stairs.

That seemed to snap me out of my trance. Suddenly, at the sight of all this blood, the only thing I could hear was the sound of my own blood rushing through my body, pumping faster with my accelerated heart rate. I took a few good bounds up the stairs (no one even thought to reprimand me for straining myself), flying through the open door at the top after my sister. I sprinted into the sleeping area, but I turned around again and nearly gagged.

There was a bloody mess of something or other on one of the beds. Christian and Sasha stood on either side of it, and Sasha was even holding part of it in her hand. She was crying at it, too.

It took me much longer than it should have to realize that that mess was my brother. That… thing, the body covered in blood, was Nicolai. I turned back reluctantly, ignoring everything else. I took a few tiny steps forward, my body refusing to let my mind subject itself to the inevitable. I blinked hard once and took another few steps forward, arriving at the foot of the bed. Christian pulled me over gently, giving me the hand he’d been holding. It too was smeared with blood, much like Nic’s pale face, torso, and jeans. Christian’s shirt was soaked with it, and Sasha’s hands were slick with it. There was so much blood.

“We were taking care of an injured Killjoy,” Christian whispered to me, rushing the explanation, “and Sasha and I went out to get some supplies to use around the restaurant. We came back just as the Dracs were leaving- they found Nic with the Killjoy. They took the Killjoy and…”

He trailed off, biting his lip. He blinked a few times before continuing. “They shot him. They pressed their guns into his body and they shot him. They didn’t even give him any time to explain.”

A tear slipped from his eye, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He shook his head and swallowed hard, taking a few steps away. I looked down at Nic’s face, and I knew immediately what I’d always read and what I’d always heard had been a lie: there was absolutely no way that he could be mistaken for sleeping. His face was twisted in pain, his breathing labored and shallow. I saw Sasha crying on the other side of the bed, one of her hands moving to her mouth to quiet the sound. The red from her hands smeared on her face a little bit as she did so, leaving lines on her cheek.

I looked down at my brother again and realized that his eyes had opened, even if just a little. He looked up at me, and I swear to God he tried to smile for me. I stared back at him, feeling the wetness welling up along my bottom lids. His hand didn’t squeeze mine, but I held his firmly.

“You came,” he breathed, harshly. Just the two syllables seemed to take him years to form. I nodded wordlessly, and I heard an especially loud sob from Sasha. He inhaled, but it seemed to get stuck in his chest and the breath stopped in the middle. It caused his chest to jerk upwards, and he spluttered a little before exhaling quickly, a little dribble of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

“Of course I did, Nic,” I whispered, and the tears started to fall steadily and silently from my eyes. They dripped from my chin and down to my shirt, occasionally splashing gently against our joined hands. “I’d be here in a heartbeat for you, Nicky.”

He tried another smile when I used the childhood nickname. It didn’t have its usual radiance, but it was sincere. His hand twitched a little against my palm, and I knew that he was trying to hold mine with more certainty. I bit the inside of my lip, staring down at my big brother.

“I’m proud of you two,” he whispered, his words punctuated by sharp inhales and rattling exhales. I could see Sasha’s shoulders shaking- her crying had become quiet, but her whole body was wracked with grief. “Har, y-” he coughed a wet, sticky cough that left splatters of blood in front of him as well as on my face and Sasha’s. I didn’t care, and she apparently didn’t either. “Har, you’re so brave. You’re so much braver than I ever was. You’re fighting against impossible odds, but I know you can win.”

He stopped to take a few breaths, deep as he could. It physically hurt to watch him do it.

“Sash,” he whispered, his breathing becoming slightly more erratic, “you got out. You saved yourself, even though you were scared. Even though it wasn’t easy. Lee would be proud, too.”

Sasha let out a small whimper. Her bottom lip quaked violently even though she held it tightly between her teeth. I knew she was trying not to sob again.

“The man of the house, but my sisters never needed me,” he mused, his voice barely there anymore. “I’ll tell Lee about everything when I see him, but I bet he’s been looking after you. Both of you. I’ll tell Mom and Dad if I see them, too.”

This time, he was interrupted by me, breathing shakily and sniffling. I didn’t realize that I’d started shaking my head until then. “No, Nic, no. I’m not brave, please don’t leave me,” I pleaded quietly, the tears dripping almost constantly from my face by then. I didn’t notice the way my nose stuffed up or how my voice became more congested, either. “I need you here.”

“Don’t leave,” Sash echoed in a thick voice. His eyes drifted between the two of us, but his smile didn’t falter.

“I’m going to die,” he informed us in his barely-there voice. “You guys shouldn’t be sad, though. I’m not scared.”

I’d held together very well considering the circumstances up until that point. I felt my face crumple in extreme emotional pain, and I tasted the salt from my crying on my lips. My shoulders shook violently and my eyes slammed closed, but not even that could damn up the tears. They slipped persistently past my closed lids.

“I love you both. You’re going to be okay without me,” he breathed again, and I could see his breath becoming shallower by the very slight rise and fall of his chest. Blood was still running lazily from the wounds, soaking into the blankets and the mattress beneath him.

“I love you, Nicky,” Sasha returned, weeping without shame. She leaned down to touch her lips to his cheek. “I love you so much.”

“Nicky,” I cried, hearing the anguish in my voice. “Nicky, I love you. Please don’t go!”

I cried harder than I had been before. I didn’t want to be brave anymore. I didn’t want to hold it together and tough it out. I wanted my mom to come in and pet my hair, rocking me back and forth like she used to. I wanted my dad to wrap me up in a hug, making me feel safe like when I used to have nightmares as a little girl. I wanted Lee there, taking my hand and making me walk with him to forget how sad I was, making me laugh even when I didn’t think I could.

“I love you,” he repeated to us. He looked at both of us in turn, and while I knew that he was closer to being blind than he had been when we were younger, this was also the clearest he’d ever seen us. I held tightly as I dared to his hand, falling to my knees with an obtrusive thud. I held it against my face as I cried, begging again and again for him not to leave me. I knew from how limp his fingers had gone that he already had, but that didn’t stop me. I pleaded with the cold knuckles of his pale fingers, my lips pressed against the back of his lifeless hand. My head bowed against it, eventually far enough to rest against the mattress. I could feel the blood in my hair, on my forehead.

I don’t know how long it was that I kneeled there in that position, but it was long enough for the cooling blood to leak down the sides of my face. I felt a hand touch my shoulder gently, and I looked up with blurred vision. Christian looked back at me, gently prying my fingers from Nicolai’s. I let out a pathetic, pleading whimper.

Don’t take me away from him.

He pulled me up gently, pulling me into his chest. I continued to shake with my sobs, and he stroked my hair gently. I let him lead me away from the bed, but I looked back and noted dully that Sasha wasn’t there anymore. She must’ve left sometime while I was busy grieving. I also noticed the distinct lack of anyone besides myself and Christian; all of my friends had apparently given me and my siblings some privacy. Christian ended up giving up on walking me anywhere and picked me up so that my legs were around his stomach and my face was buried in his neck. He held the bottoms of my thighs to keep me up and descended the stairs carefully. I continued to cry, and I didn’t give a damn who saw. We reached the hallway, and he took me out to the dining area. I could tell, since his feet made a different noise on the floor in the dining hall than they did on the carpet.

He set me down in one of the booths, moving away to talk to Sasha. Probably about what to do with the body.

“Oh God, the body,” I wailed quietly, mostly to myself. I didn’t want to think of my brother as ‘the body’. His body. His body that had been so full of life, now so vacant and growing colder by the minute. I could hear Sasha crying somewhere, and I knew that Christian was, too. Without anyone to hold on to, I curled up into myself, not even feeling the sting of my injuries. They didn’t matter anymore. I cried into my knees with my back pressed against the wall, taking short, choppy breaths every now and again. I heard footsteps upstairs, and I sprang to life again. They were going to bury him, but I couldn’t let it be done without me. He was my brother, too.

I uncurled from myself and lurched out of the booth, past my friends who called softly after me. Sasha and Christian were already upstairs, and I could hear them moving around the bed, trying to decide how to best go about things. I stumbled up the stairs, tripping and catching myself multiple times. I hadn’t stopped crying, and the tears slid from my face to the ground as I stumbled about. I finally made it upstairs as they were lifting him. He wasn’t heavy, quite the opposite, but he was quite tall. I let out a choked sob when I saw the way he dangled, just a shell now.

“Oh, God,” I repeated quietly. I tottered over, taking his hand as Christian held him. It felt cold and foreign in my own, but I held to it. Sasha put her hand on my shoulder, but I didn’t let go.

“Harley,” she beseeched quietly, “you’ve got to let him go. We both do.”

“No,” I denied, shaking my head. “No, I won’t do that. I’m not going to sit around and cry while he’s put to rest. I’m going to cry and dig his fucking grave with my bare hands!”

I’ll be the first to admit that shouting wasn’t really necessary, but it wasn’t an easy situation. She let her hand slip from my shoulder with a sullen nod. Christian carried him down the stairs, though it probably was made harder by the fact that I walked just two steps ahead, holding my brother’s hand. I made pathetic snuffly sounds, occasionally running my knuckles across my eyes to clear my vision, but smearing tears and blood across my face. I probably looked ghastly. We made our way past my somber friends, watching silently. Silently except for Grace, who wept quietly against Frank’s leg. I noticed that Gerard had turned to give his brother a hug, as well. Mikey returned it, and I turned away before I could start crying harder.

We brought him to a spot a little ways off, under the skeleton of some kind of tree that had lost its leaves many a year ago. It was still beautiful, but in a different kind of way. Its bare branches reached towards the heavens, casting spidery shadows on the ground when the sun was at its peak. Sasha followed us, having found a suitable digging tool. We took turns digging, and it took us until after sundown. All of my boys and Gracie filed out in a quiet line eventually, watching.

When we were satisfied that the hole was deep enough, Christian lowered Nic carefully in, letting his hands rest peacefully on his chest despite the hole that was there. I held Sasha’s hand tightly in mine, tightly enough that it was uncomfortable and even a little painful for both of us; neither one of us loosened our grips. Kindred took my other hand, and I saw that she too had been crying. She squeezed my hand tightly in her own, and I bit my lip. I didn’t want to ruin the quiet.

Looking at his lifeless body, I felt a sense of finality. This was real. He wasn’t going to get back up. I would never wake up to Nic cooking me breakfast ever again. I would never hear his laugh, meet his impossibly blue eyes with mine, or hear him beg me to stay just one more day again. I suddenly wished I had stayed.

Christian cleared his throat quietly, and I slowly tore my gaze away from my brother to meet his. He nodded slightly, but I shook my head; I would give no speeches. Nic wouldn’t want speeches. I’d say my private and final goodbyes when I was alone. He nodded again in response, though out of understanding this time. I did let go of the hands in my own, though, to step forward. I took two handfuls of dirt from the pile we’d made when digging the hole. I took them, and I dropped them gently as I could into the hole. Sasha and Kindred stepped forward a few handfuls later to join, and so did Christian. Gracie broke away from her hold on Frank and joined us. Slowly, everyone joined in the somber task, gently tossing the earth back to where it belonged, slowly covering Nic’s body. It was done silently, since no one dared to say anything.

Eventually the deed was done, and a mound of freshly dug earth covered the spot. We all stood around it silently, all staring at it. No one wanted to be the first to go, the first to break the trance. Eventually, though, I sighed. Everyone looked slowly my way, but I ignored them. I kneeled down, placing a kiss first to the tips of my fingers, then pressing them to the center of the mound. The tears had stopped falling by this point, but my heart was heavy.

“I love you,” I whispered quietly, though I may as well have shouted with how silent everyone else was being. I bowed my head out of respect for a minute, and then I made my way slowly back to the diner. We wouldn’t be leaving tonight, and one of the spots was covered in blood.

“Harley…?” Kindred called after me. I looked back and gave a tiny smile. I knew she was wondering why I was leaving.

“The diner’s a mess, and this place was Nic’s life. He’d be mad as hell if I let the carpets stain. Plus, there’re a lot more of us this time around, and Nic’s bed…” I trailed off, and she got my point. My smile had faltered, but I replaced it, hearing Nic’s words echo in my ear.

You guys shouldn’t be sad, though. I’m not scared.

“I am, Nic. I’m terrified,” I whispered, nearly silent. “I’m scared, but I’ll be okay. I’ll watch out for Sasha, and I’ve got amazing friends. I’ll make you proud, and I’ll make this place a better world. I promise.”