It had been 5 days since He last came back. A small, brittle victory. I kept count on a calendar tucked in my wardrobe.
I stood before the mirror, brushing my hair. Fifty strokes. No more, no less. The bruises on my wrists had faded to a sickly yellow-green, easy to hide under my sleeve. The cut on my lip was a stubborn ugly ridge. I gnawed at it constantly, the taste of blood was better than that of fear. The sound of Ari's cartoon floated down the hall, a bright artificial world where problems where solved in twenty two minutes.
Our uniforms for the week were already stacked in a pristine box by the door. Mama's strange decree. We'd leave, the box would vanish, and by evening it would reappear, smelling of lavender and bleach, as if touched by silent efficient ghosts. I never questioned it. Some mysteries were a kind of mercy. An illusion of care I desperately needed to believe in.
I went to her room. The door was ajar. From within, a low, strained groan, the sound of a body at war with itself. The violent rustle of sheets.
'She doesn't want me to see'
I peeked.
She was trying to shift her weight. Just an inch. Her left arm, trembling violently, was braced against the mattress. Her legs, dead weight, refused to obey. Her face contorted, not with pain, but with the furious, humiliating effort of will over flesh. A silent scream locked behind her teeth. She wanted to sit up straighter. To look less like a discarded thing.
My heart didn't clench. It shattered.
I pulled back. Counted to ten. Pushed the door open as if I'd seen nothing.
She was as I'd left her the night before, propped on pillows, but now breathing in sharp, shallow hitches. The second she saw me, the agony in her eyes were shoved down, replaced by a light so fragile it made my throat ache.
"Good morning, Litla. " The words slurred, breathy,each one costing her dearly.
"Good morning, Mama." My voice was a practiced calm. "I made spaghetti. The kind Ari likes. "
'See I can do this. I am in control'
I opened the medicine drawer. The screech irritated me. The smell lashed the back of my throat. My saliva turned to water. I swallowed hard, forcing my hand not to shake as I tipped the tiny white pills into my palm.
She was quiet. Too quiet.
'What did I do wrong? Did I brush my hair wrong? Did I not smile enough?'
She took the pills. Her throat worked in a slow, difficult convulsion.
"Where is Ari? " Her voice cracked on his name, and I could hear the tears dammed behind it
'Why is she sad? Is it me? Is it him? What did I do wrong?'
"Eating his Fruit loops. " I said, watching her face. The sadnea cold, was a physical presence.
"And your fa... "
"Ásta! The driver is here!" Ari's should cut through the question.
A wave of pure, shameful relief nearly buckled my knees. I didn't want his name in this room. I didn't want his shadow touching her.
"We have to go" I blurted out too fast "I'll... I'll bring him to say bye."
She didn't speak, but her eyes held a plea that was worse than words.
I went down. Ari was spinning in a slow circle by the door, his backpack threatening to topple him. His shirt was a disaster.
"Hold still."
I knelt, my fingers moving with a frantic precise energy. I unbuckled, smoothed, and retucked the fabric until the lines were sharp and perfect. I buttoned his top button.
He immediately reached for it with a pout.
"It's choking me."
"Its not choking you. It's proper." I said, my voice firm.
He turned his face away, a small dramatic protest against the starch and order. My heart clenched. I learned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "There. All better."
He scrunched his nose, but a smile threatened at the corners of his mouth.
'Good'
I straightened his collar. 'There'. He looked like a child from a catalog. A child from a home where things were normal. It was a lie, but it was one I could stitch together with my own hands.
"Let's go say bye to mom before we go" His face lit up, sun bursting through clouds.
"Is she awake? Can I tell her about my dream? The one with the flying dog? " My heart clenched painfully.
"Yeah. Be bright for her, ok?" He nodded already halfway up the stairs.
I followed, a sentry. At the doorway, I stopped. Watched.
I saw the exact moment his sunshine hit the reality of her room and shattered.
He hadn't seen her in weeks. The woman in the bed, surrounded by hissing machines and the sharp scent of medicine, was a stranger. A science exhibit. His smile vanished, replaced by wide eyed, animal uncertainty. He looked back at me, seeking translation. 'Is that her? '
In the same instant, I saw Mama's heart break behind her eyes. A fracture so deep it seemed to dim the light in the room. I'd be that sad, too, if my own child looked at me like a ghost.
It was my fault, I'd brought him here. I'd forced this collision.
Ari, my brave little soldier, took a hesitant step forward. Mama's hand, trembling, skeletal, lifted from the sheet and found his. Her lis moved, but no sound came out, just a soft, airless sigh.
She pulled him into a hug, her body contorting with effort. A sharp, pained gasp escaped her. She didn't need to do that. But she did anyway.
When she let go, he fled back to my side, his small hand fisting in my skirt. The ache of her desperate,painful embrace hung in the air between us, a third passenger as we walked back down in heavy silence.
Ms. Helga, Mama's caretaker was in the foyer, Her arrival was as reliable as the uniform service. Her sharp, assessing gaze swept over us, my too-perfect shirt, Ari's shell-shocked face, before softening into a professional nod.
"Morning. I'll take over from here."
"She's had her pills." I said, the words too quick, asserting my small domain.
"Good." She was already moving toward the kitchen, her efficiency a comfort and a dismissal.
'See? A real adult.'
The weight of the house shifted from my shoulders to hers. It was a relief so profound it felt like a betrayal. We could leave. For a few hours, the silence would have a keeper.
In the car, Ari pressed his face to the window, quiet. The driver's eyes found mine in the rearview. That look. That pity. A hot needle of shame pierced my mind.
'Why do we never walk? Why is our house so big and empty? Why does she pay strangers to do things I could do?'
But beneath the practical questions, a deeper, more terrifying one rose, black and oily;
'Why does she love him?'
How could she, lying in that before of decay, still ask about him with that frail hope in her voice? How could love survive that? What kind of love was it, that clung to the thing that was destroying us?
The guilt metastasized. It wasnt just about the dirty Plate or the noise. It was about letting them see each other's ruin. I'd shown Ari a mother who was an after image. I'd shown Mama a son who was afraid of her. I'd failed as a curator. As a buffer.
As the school gates looked, a new, desperate fantasy seized me, clear and bright as a neon sign
'I'll find a cure.'
It wasnt a childish wish. A plan. I'd go to the library after school. I'd research ALS. Motor neurons. Clinical trials in Switzerland. There had to be a key, a secret everyone else was not seeing. I was smart. I could fix this. I could make her whole again, and then she wouldn't need to ask about him, and Ari wouldn't be afraid, and the house would stop feeling like a tomb waiting for its final occupant.
The car stopped. The fantasy crystallized into certainty.
"Have a good day, Miss." the driver said, the oity still dripping from his words.
I didn't answer. I took Ari's hand, my grip tight.
'Just get through today. Then, the library. Then, the cure.'
It was the only thought solid enough to stand on.
"Ásta, can we go to the park after school? " Ari asked, skipping beside me on the damp pavement.
"Sure. But only if you finish your lunch."
"Ok, but we get extra playtime, promise? " He deployed the puppy dog eyes, the nuclear option. I almost smiled. A real one.
"Ok, ok"
The plastic curve of my lips felt foreign as he ran off to his class. I walked to the other side of the school, the greetings from classmates landing on me like dry leaves, empty, rustling,meant to be swept away. Their whispers were a constant, low grade hum I'd learned to translate without turning my head.
"...fancy clothes again..."
"...that car. Thinks she's better..."
"...so pompous, ignoring everyone..."
The words had no owners. They were just a toxic mist I had to walk through. I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my own brain.
My 'friends' caught up, Elín, Katrin and the others. Their conversations was an exhausting tapestry of messy boys, new phones, and malicious gossip. It bled into class, relentless even as the teacher stood at the board. I tried to tune them out, to focus on the equations, but a deep, formless exhaustion was seeping into my bones. I'd slept . Why did I feel so heavy?
A sudden, sharp tightness cinched around my ribs. Panic, cold and slick. 'Not here. Not now. '
I stood up abruptly, the legs of the chair screeching like an animal in pain.
"Bathroom" I mumbled to the teachers annoyed glare, and rushed out.
The hallway seemed to breath, the walls pulsing. My head spun, heavy and disconnected from my body.
'Just get to the stall. Lock the door. Fall apart in private.'
My knees buckled.
I caught myself on the cold tiles, palms stinging. Just as the world tilted on it's axis. I heard it. Not from around me, but inside. Clear. Intimate. A whisper laid directly on the surface of my mind.
'You should rest Ásta'
A jolt of pure, electric terror. I was losing it. In public. I scrambled up, my heart a frantic bird against my ribs. I splashed water on my face, the shock of cold a feeble anchor. I counted my breaths. 'In. Out. In. Out. You are in control.'
I Walked back to class on legs of water. Slid into my seat. I hadn't heard a single word.
"Ásta. Are you alright? " Mr Axel's face was a blur of concern in front of me. Everyone was staring.
My cheeks burned. Not with shame at their stares, but with a searing, private humiliation. I had allowed a weakness, a basic stupid need for sleep, to hijack me. To make me stumble. To let it speak. I'd betrayed my one rule: show nothing.
"Fine" I managed, picking up my pen, as if it were a weapon. The teacher's frown deepened, but the bell saved me.
I stayed glued to my seat as the room emptied. The silence was better. It had no eyes.
"Ásta, come on! Let's go to the quad. Andri and Tómas are playing basketball" Elín's voice was like a drill.
"Go ahead. I'm going to work on my book. " I forced a smile.
"Tch, if you keep acting like this, you'll never get a boyfriend by the end of sophomore year. " She walked away, with an exaggerated hip sway she'd been practicing since the first day of 10th grade.
'Annoying isn't she' The voice murmured, a confidential whisper from a very close friend.
"Yeah" I agreed under my breath before freezing.
My hand dove inside my bag, searching for the familiar canvas cover. The one with the panda eating bamboo. It wasn't tucked in it's usual spot. A cold, thin dread seeped into my veins. I unzipped every compartment, my panic rising.
'It's not there. Stop checking'
I paused, hand hovering. It was right. It was gone. I stood, my mind racing with.
'I always pack it. Did I forget? No. Never.' A pathetic flicker of hope. 'Maybe... my friends? They mess around. Maybe they grabbed it by mistake. '
I made my way to the quad, my eyes scanning the crowd. Someone bumped my shoulder, I didn't feel it. Then I stopped dead.
There it was. Undeniable.
My book. The 60 pages of red and black ink. In Elín's hands. She was holding it aloft like a trophy, flanked by Katrin and the rest, a chorus of smirks.
"Hey!" Elín called, her voice bright with fake cheer. "Looking for this? " She waved it. "We were just doing some literary... analysis."
A nervous tremor started in my hands, but beneath it a fragile hope bloomed.
'They're smiling. They have my book. Maybe... maybe they like it? May be their just messing around?'
I walked over, a tentative smile touching my lips.
"Please. I'd like it back."
I reached for it.
She held it just out of reach. The smile on her face didn't change,but something in her eyes did. It sharpened.
"Ooh, listen to this one." She said her voice dropping into a syrupy, theatrical tone.
"Sonetimes I count the seconds between his footsteps and the front door. 10 seconds means he's going to bed. 30 means he's coming for me."
My tentative smile died. The hope curdled in my chest.
"That's... that's just..."
"Just what?" Elín cut in, her eyebrows raised in faux innocence.
"Fiction? Oh come on, Ásta. You told me about this last year. 'I write to process things.' You said. Remember" Her grin was a knife.
"You were so vulnerable."
The words landed like a physical blow. 'I told her. I actually told her.'
The memory surfaced, hazy but undeniable; a moment of weakness in the library, a moment of wanting a real friend. I'd shared a sliver of truth. And she'd been holding onto it. Waiting.
Katrín fake shivered
"So, it's, like a diary? Ew. Who does that?"
The truth detonated.
"..... Fancy clothes..... "
"..... that car.... "
".... So pompous.... "
The hallway whispers. They weren't from strangers. They had the same rhythm. The same pitch. The same source. They weren't rehearsals. They were field notes.
They had never been my friends. They were anthropologists. And I was their sad, stupid subject.
"Give it back." I breathed, the words barely a sound.
"Or what? " Elín flipped a page, her eyes scanning with a critic's cold efficiency.
"Oh, this is a good one. 'Ari doesn't flinch at loud noises anymore. I do. What's wrong with me?' Aww." She looked up, her face a mask of grotesque sympathy.
"Does your little brother have to be the brave one? Is that why you are so weird with him? You're, like, jealous?"
"Elín please...." The word was a gasp, the sound of the person I was trying so hard to be, finally breaking.
"She's gonna cry" Katrín singsonged.
Elín snorted.
"Yeah, right. Like she has the guts. She's all talk in her little book. 'I am stronger than this house.' Please. You're just a sad girl with a sick mom and drunk dad who writes cringe poetry about it."
Every word was a precise, premeditated incision. They'd been planning this. They'd chosen their weapons from my own heart.
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous, gleeful whisper. "And that freak little brother who's probably gonna end up jist like... "
That was it.
'Dont let her disrespect him'
The whisper wasn't a suggestion. It was a release.
My vision didn't go red. It went clear. Hyper focused.
I was on top of Elín before the last syllable left her mouth. The world narrowed to a single point; the bridge of her nose. A perfect, logical solution. My fist connected with a wet, satisfying crunch sound. A punctuation mark.
She screamed. A raw animal sound.
Hands grabbed at my shoulders, my hair, Katrín.
"Stop it, you psycho!!"
I drove my elbow back, felt it connect with something soft. A grunt. The hands fell away.
The second was a correction. The third was for the way she'd said 'freak' .
I wasn't losing control. I was for the first time, executing it. Perfectly. A sick electric pleasure coursed through me with every impact.
'Yes. More. Erase her. Erase the words.'
'Harder. She can't disrespect him.'
The world was a chorus of screams and gasps. The gasps were applause. I was giving them the show they wanted. The real Ásta
The animal from the big, empty house.
It took three seniors and a teacher to peel me off her. My knuckles were slick. The sound rushed back in, shrieks, sobs, the teacher yelling. I looked at my hands. The red wasnt haze. It was paint. Her face was a ruined canvas.
The walk to the principle's office was a numb, echoing tunnel. The electric pleasure had evaporated, leaving behind a cold, leaden dread that sat in my stomach.
'What have I done? I showed them. I showed everything. It's getting worse.'
'Shhh. It's okay. You protected him.' The voice was soft now. A lullaby. A friend smoothing back my hair.
'They pushed you. You had to.'
I clung to the tone. It was the only thing in the world that wasnt screaming at me.
I had been here, countless times. For awards. For congratulations. The secretary always had a mint and a smile. Now her eyes buldged as she took in my bloody hands, wild eyes, the specks of red on my uniform blouse. She didn't just looked shocked. She recoiled. Her chair squeaked as she pushed back from her desk an inch. She looked... Terrified. Of me.
A cold slice of understanding cit through the numbness
'the one time I was here for something real... I'm a monster.'
'No, you're not' The voice was immediate, a warm blanket thrown over the icy thought. 'You're a defender. A sister. They're just too weak to see the difference.'
"Ásta, go in" The secretary said, her voice tight, not meeting my eyes.
Mrs. Kári didn't smile. Her face was a mask of professional concern, but Beneath it, I saw something else... Revulsion.
A faint wrinkling of her nose as I sat down. The smell of violence clung to me.
"Sit, Ásta."
I sank into the chair, it felt like quicksand.
"What happened? "
"It was a mistake" I muttered, staring at the blood caked in the lifelines of my palms.
"A mistake? Ásta, you've given her a nasal fracture, a suspected orbital fracture, and several facial lacerations. You displaced one of Katrín's teeth." She tilted her head, trying to catch my eyes, to find the girl she knew in the hollow stare looking back. "Is there something I need to know?"
"No" The word was flat. Final. A wall.
"Is everything ok at ho.. "
My head snapped up. I didn't mean to glare but I did. The question felt violating.
"Yes" I said my voice sharp like a glass shard. "Everything is fine. "
She leaned back, studying me. The silence was pressure, crushing my ribs.
"Take 2 days. Use the time to reflect."
My heart stopped.
"Wait! I can come tomorrow, you don't have to suspend me! " I lurched forward, hands slamming on the desk.
She flinched. Her eyes dropped to my raw, split knuckles pressed against the polished wood. The look on her face wasn't concern. It was cold, clear fear. The fear of something feral in a civilized place.
"Ásta" She said, her voice tight. She took a deliberate breath, placed her palms fat on the desk, as if physically pressing down her own reaction. When she spoke again it was with a strained, bureaucratic calm. "We will have to manage a significant lawsuit because of this. Do you understand?"
The words were icewater. A lawsuit. Not detention. Not suspension. A lawsuit. The word belonged to the world of adults, of newspapers, of things that couldn't be undone.
She saw the impact on my face and seemed to gather herself, her mask of authority, clicking back into place.
"You are... Extraordinarily fortunate, " She continued, her tone cooler, distant, "that your mother's contributions to this school are as substantial as they are. If that were not the case, you would have been expelled on the spot. Consider this suspension an act of... Considerable grace."
It was a verdict. I wasnt a student who messed up. I was a liability whose continued presence was a calculated financial exception.
I looked down, swallowing the hot, sharp shame rising in my throat. 'Stupid. Reckless. Look what you've done.'
"Yes ma'am. " I turned and left before the tears could betray me, before she could see the little girl screaming inside the liability. They weren't tears of sadness, but tears of furious, helpless shame.
'See? ' the voice whispered, not unkindly as I stumbled down the empty Hall.
'Without her you are nothing. But I see. I understand.'
I looked around, my vision blurry.
"Who's saying that?" I gasped, my voice ragged. "Please, stop."
'Dont worry, I won't hurt you, I'm just a friend' A soft intimate pause 'And I'll be here forever'
I ran. I burst out of the school doors and into the gray, weeping sky. I hoped it would wash me clean, but it made the blood on my hands turn thin and pink, running in rivulets down my wrists. I scrubbed them against my skirt, only smearing it further. 'Ugly. Stained. Wrong.'
And there he was. Ari. Holding his little umbrella, waiting. He turned.
His smile was fragile, but it was there. And in his yellow eyes, I didn't see fear of the monster. I saw sadness so deep it mirrored the one clawing at my own insides.
He saw me... really saw me... And he still smiled.
"Hey sis" My heart cracked open. His voice was so small in the rain.
I rushed forward, the violence in my hands momentarily forgotten.
"Ari what's wrong? Why are you standing in the rain? " I cupped his face. His skin was cold. The tip of his nose red. A wave of protective fury washed over me, at the weather, at the world, at myself for not being there to keep him warm.
I wanted to rub his cheeks with my thumbs, to warm them.
I saw it the moment it happened.
The rain on my hands mixed with the blood from my split knuckles, smearing thin, pink streaks across his perfect, pale cheeks.
I recoiled as if struck. Worse. As if I were the strike.
'No. No, no, no. I'm staining him. My filth, my violence... it's on him.'
He didn't flinch. He didn't wipe it away. He just looked at me with those big, lion-yellow eyes, seeing everything, the blood, the panic, the monster, and said, soft as a secret.
"Nothing"
Then he wrapped his arms around my waist and hugged me tightly, pressing his clean cheek against my bloody, rain soaked blouse. He didn't care. He held on asid I was the one about to be washed away.
I held him back, clutching him like the only solid thing in a dissolving world, my arms trembling. I wss terrified to touch him, but even more terrified to let go.
The little umbrella wobbled in his grip. He tried to lift it higher, to cover me, even though I was a foot taller. The gesture was so absurdly, devastatingly kind.
"I'm sorry" I choked out, the words thick.
"I'm sorry we can't go to the park, I'm sorry the rain, I..."
"You can't control everything, sis. " His voice was muffled against my shirt, wiser than any child's had a right to be. "We can go home. Drink hot chocolate"
A single, hot tear escaped, cutting a clean track through the grime and rain on my cheek.
I managed a smile. It was a sad, broken thing, but it was real. The first real thing I'd felt all day.
"S.. Sure" I whispered.
I took his small, cold hand in my bloody one. He didn't pull away. He held on tight.
He led me away from the wreakage, the voice in my head, and the stain on my soul, his little umbrella sheltering us both as best as it could, every step of the way.
"She was the fortress, and he was the quiet flag flying within. Without it, she was just a pile of stones purposeless and cold. "
-Unknown