Noxious

32 | those gone

Rowan 

I hated death. 

It wasn't fair. How could it decide when someone's time was up? Why did it take the people who least deserved it? 

I had pretended to be asleep when Tommy cast a glance in the backseat. I was pretty sure he wouldn't talk if he knew more people were listening, and once he started telling his story, I knew why.

I understood exactly how he felt. 

Death left a gaping hole in your heart, and it would be there forever. If Tommy still hated to talk about his sister's death, and it had been a few years, then when would the loss of Milo stop hurting? Did it ever stop? 

I just wanted to feel okay again. 

Although when I followed Charly into the store, I had felt okay. 

She had been laughing and it was contagious enough that I found myself following her lead. I hadn't really seen her smile and laugh but when I finally did, I reflected her energy because it felt good. 

I realized I didn't mind being around Charly. 

She might have a smart mouth and even worse language but underneath all of that, she was still my little sister. 

She was still a sixteen-year-old who grew up in foster care because of my shitty mother and suffered abuse from shitty people. There was still a lot I didn't know about her but I knew she wasn't who she pretended to be. 

I had come to that conclusion when she had fallen asleep and slowly fell across the seats. I hadn't pushed her away because her face was peaceful, and she seemed almost innocent as she slept. There wasn't anger marring her facial expression, there weren't sharp words to deflect something... there was just Charly. 

I had listened intently to the last words Tommy said to Kyle. My eyes remained on Charly. 

Don't make the same mistakes. 

Because once upon a time, I had missed all the warning signs with Milo, and then he was gone. 

I sighed in present time, glancing out the window to watch the landscape monotonously blur by. It was overcast today. Almost gloomy and depressing. The clouds looked as though they were as heavy as my thoughts lately. 

 A single raindrop splattered across the window, just as a single tear streaked down my cheek. For some reason, they were both of the same emotion. When there was too much inside, it came out. 

Suddenly, my eyes flickered to the front of the car when Kyle reached forward and violently flipped off the heater control on the car's dash. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, and I realized he was sweating. 

Strange. 

"It was already off," Tommy commented carefully. He had been driving relaxed, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand propped against his chin, his elbow setting on the top of the driver's door. But now, he placed both hands on the steering wheel, his head turned towards Kyle. 

Kyle squirmed in his seat. "I'm really sweaty and hot, "He almost panted, and then asked, "Is there anything to drink? I'm dying of thirst." 

"I picked up a pack of water, it's in the back," Tommy said, and then he was braking to pull off the side of the road within the next few seconds. He was eyeing Kyle cautiously, and asked, "Are you okay?" 

"I-I don't know," Kyle stammered, his skin sheen from sweat, "Something feels weird---like I'm not...here." 

The car came to an abrupt halt, gravel crunching angrily beneath the tires. We were in the middle of nowhere. Previously following a lonely two-lane road through the country.