Page 142 of Burn Bright

I hang back while they meet gazes.

“I can’t stop,” Beckett says in a single tight breath to Charlie. “Je ne peux pas m'arrêter.”I can’t stop.

My ribs squeeze. Air thins.

I haven’t lived with Beckett since I was twelve. I can’t remember the last time I even saw him this submerged beneath his OCD. I don’t know what to do.

“You have to stop,” Charlie says. “You’re about to bleed.” He pries the sponge out of Beckett’s grip and reaches around him to shut off the faucet.

Beckett elbows him and waves so the sensor cuts the water back on. Charlie plants his hand on top of our brother’s raw skin. “Beckett, listen to me. You have to stop. Take a breath.” His chest presses up against Beckett’s back, and he clutches his forearms, forcing Beckett from reaching the sponge or the faucet.

“I can’t.” Beckett lets out a deep, pained groan of torment.

“Yes, you can. Je sais que tu peux.”I know you can.

“I can’t look at it,” Beckett murmurs. Is he referring to the emptied cupboards, the trash bags, his arms?

“Close your eyes.”

Beckett shuts them, takes a much bigger breath, then Charlie spins him around and brings him into his chest, holding him there and whispering something against his ear. I can’t hear anything. All I see are Charlie’s bloodshot yellow-green eyes as he looks up and stares at me. I’m standing here like mortared brick. Not sure what I should be doing. How I should be helping.

I’ve never felt so fucking helpless.

As they peel away from each other, Beckett beelines for the hallway to his bedroom. Charlie is seconds behind him—only braking to tell me, “If you leave this apartment tonight, Ben, I will murder you myself. Do you understand?”

Everything hurts. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Call Moffy.”

“What?”

“Call your favorite person on this planet.” I immediately think of Harriet. Charlie disappears, and I can barely breathe.I’m barely functioning in my own skin. The surrounding garbage bags are closing in on me. I dazedly back up into the pull-out.

My legs hit the metal frame. I sink down.It was me.I did this. I know I did.

I’m stressing out Beckett. His OCD is flaring up, probably getting worse, because of me.

My phone rings beside me. It’s Moffy. Charlie must’ve texted our cousin. Told him to call. I hang up on Maximoff, and I shoot a quick message.

BEN COBALT

I’m okay. Charlie is overreacting.

I don’t even look at Moffy’s response.

Words cycle on repeat inside my brain. I can’t shake them.

It was me.

I did this.

I shouldn’t be here. I wasneversupposed to be in New York. I knew this would happen. My nose flares as emotion ransacks my insides. I hold my thumping head in my hands.

Tears spill out of my eyes as I see my brother…my favorite brother at that sink. I see his arms scrubbed raw. The skin starting to rip open. “Fuck,” I choke on a guttural noise, my body trying to unleash a sob. My leg jostles. I push back my hair to pick up my phone.

I check my bank account. Barely enough money to rent an apartment in the city. I haven’t really been saving my bartending tips. Like tonight. I bought Harriet popcorn and a Fizz. Then I bought all my brothers a drink at the ballet.

A big part of me has started believing I could stay here. That I didn’t need to leave.