“Henry!” I panicked, my hip crashing into a table in the living room.
Glass broke everywhere as the picture frame collided with the floor.
“Henry?”
The music stopped and his voicemail picked up.
“Hey. It’s Henry. Leave a message at the beep, or don’t, whatever.”
My heart arrested at his voice and I froze, hitting redial again.
Calling Henry…
“Come fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away…”
Tears streaming down my face, the music mocked me.
“Henry!”
I hit the step to the basement and exploded with fury as the music grew louder.
“Henry?”
I saw a shadow under the bathroom door.
“Henry!”
Turning the handle, I pushed, but the door barely moved. I backed up and hit the door harder this time, my shoulder protesting in pain.
The door moved at best a few more inches, enough to see his lifeless body folded over in the mirror.
“Henry!” I screamed, backing up farther this time and rushing the door.
He didn’t move.
I dialled the numbers as my thighs burned from pushing so hard.
Calling 911…
“911. What’s your emergency?” The female voice burned into my brain.
“My brother… He… My brother, he’s not moving. He’s… he’s in the bathroom… and I can’t… I can’t get in and he’s not moving!” I screamed into the receiver like I hated her. Like she’d done this to him.
“What’s your address?”
“4313 Holly Park Drive.” I connected with the door again and felt it give. “Henry!”
“Miss, an ambulance is on…”
The phone shattered against the tiled floor as my body pushed through the crack in the door.
“Henry! Henry! Henry!” I dropped to my knees and screamed in his face.
Nothing.
My fingers shook as I placed them against his throat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He had a pulse.
“Henry!”
I slapped him, hard.
He choked and my heart seized.
I hooked my arms around his torso and pulled. He was bigger than me. So much bigger than me.
“Stay with me, Henry, please,” I begged, using all of my strength to roll him onto his side.
Opening his mouth, I shoved two fingers to the back of his throat and pushed.
Vomit covered my hand and the sleeves of my school uniform.
Pulling my hand out, I kept his head turned while the stench perforated the air.
“Henry!”
His eyes didn’t open and my tears had grown to sobs.
I pushed two fingers down his throat again.
More vomit.
He choked and spit.
“Henry, please.”
His massive frame convulsed with each heave.
Behind his lids, his eyes moved as he coughed, and finally the grey of my brother’s irises found me briefly.
“Henry!” I sobbed, slapping his cheeks again as his eyes began to close. “What did you take? Henry!”
They opened again.
“What did you take? What did you take?” I repeated over and over again.
I placed his head in my lap, pulling the sweat-soaked blond hair off his forehead.
“Henry?” I said softer this time.
He smiled at me.
“I’m sorry, Charlie.” His eyes closed.
“Charleston?”
“So sorry, Charlie bear.”
“Charleston?”
I came to looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
“Char? Are you listening to me?”
My eyes moved to find Kevin’s in the mirror. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The guests have started to arrive.”
I nodded, noting he looked as handsome as ever in an all-black tuxedo with a red mask.
“I’ll be right down.”
He stepped forward, squeezing my bare shoulder. “It looks beautiful out there.”
I tilted my head backwards, fending off the tears that threatened to ruin my expertly applied makeup and praying they stayed put in their wells.
Kevin was right. The space had turned out better than I’d dreamed it would.
“We did good,” I spoke to him, but smiled to the ceiling.
He kissed my cheek. “Yeah, babe. We did good.”
I felt his presence leave the bathroom, heard the sound of the door closing, and tilted my chin down.
Addiction will take the very best of you, and no matter how many times you beg for mercy, it won’t come.
It would never ease your suffering.
My brother’s addiction had taken the best of me, but it was my addiction that allowed for the syphoning of who I was to continue.
My gray eyes looked hollow in the reflection and I winced. I did not look like the host I was expected to be.
Picking up the red mask from the vanity, I lifted the top half of my hair up and tied the strings in place. When they were secure, I allowed the remaining mass of blonde curls to fall from my hands and cover them up completely.
I sized up the woman staring back at me.
She was damaged, but she was beautiful.
The red silk dress was high in the neck and fell loosely around my generous chest. My back was entirely exposed before the fabric formed a brilliant V-shape just above my butt. It was floor-length, and in these nude stilettoes, it made it appear as though my legs went on for miles and never quit. The naked lipstick I wore matched my shoes and offset the dark smoke my eyes were painted.