Page 153 of Serpent In White

I cringe as my heart shatters in my chest.I could’ve stopped it. I should have…

I know in this moment I’ll carry this guilt for the rest of my life. But it stops tonight.

This ends now.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” I mumble, and he doesn’t respond. Sitting like a broken doll on the floor of the shower, my brother crumbles before my eyes.

My six-foot, one-hundred-and-eighty-pound wide receiver foster brother, reduced to a blubbering mess. He’s so strong, but in this moment, he’s gone.

No. No, I won’t let this happen to him. I can’t.

He’s all I have. I won’t let that asshole take him.

Seething inside, I manage to forgo my rage long enough to focus on getting Darian out of the shower. Turning off the water, I grab a towel, wrapping it around him and helping him stand. His legs shake as he moves in slow motion, out of the shower, teeth chattering in between his sniffles.

He’s still crying, though no sounds are coming out. He’s just sort of shivering, and it’s the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever witnessed. My face is tight and burning, pressure building up behind my eyes as I dry him off carefully.

“Where does it hurt?” I ask, minding his bruises. I check his nose, and it doesn’t feel broken.

“Everywhere…” he mumbles.

My stomach twists in misery, but I don’t show it to him. I stay strong for him, keeping the worry off my face while I wipe the blood from his nose and lips.

“Can you walk, Dar?” I keep the towel wrapped around him, noticing that he doesn’t have any clothes in the bathroom.

Meaning he didn’t have any when he came in here.

My jaw is numb from straining so hard, fist clenching over and over to stop myself from running in there right now. I have to take care of my brother first. He needs me.

“It… hurts, but yea,” he croaks.

Draping his arm around my shoulder, I slink my arm around his waist to help him walk better while we leave the bathroom quietly, Darian wincing as he goes. When we pass the asshole’s bedroom, he starts to quake. His pace picks up, and nowhe’sdraggingmeup the hall, yanking me into our bedroom fast.

He’s out of breath once we’re inside, and I close the door wishing like hell it had a lock. Now I understand why we aren’t allowed one, even though we’re fucking fifteen.

“You’re okay.” I’m fighting like hell to hold on to my strength. For him. “I have you.”

He shudders and covers his face with his hands, the towel trying to fall off his naked body. Rushing to his dresser, I grab some boxers and bring them back to him. He pulls them on, steeling his arms around himself.

“You want some sweats?” I ask. Darian usually sleeps in only his boxers, but maybe right now he wants more clothes.

He shakes his head slowly, the cries picking back up again. “What… why… I don’t get it…”

Biting the inside of my cheek to keep my own tears at bay, I lunge and hug onto him tight. He latches himself to me and just sobs into my neck.

“It’s not your fault, Darian,” I tell him. “I’m going to take care of this, okay? I’ll fix it.”

“You can’t,” he whimpers. “I’m fucking stuck here… with him. And itismy fault.”

My head shakes over and over, but I can’t find any words. This hurt of his, Ifeelit like it’s my own.

How is it possible to feel someone else’s pain? Is empathy really that strong? Can it be?

Or is it because we’re connected, Darian and me?

“Come on.” I tug him over to my bed. “You need to rest.”

He walks with me, pausing for a moment. “I can sleep in your bed?”