The silence between us stretched so long it started to feel like another punch. A quiet one. The kind that doesn’t bruise your skin but shatters everything inside. She exhaled slowly and slumped back into the chair like her legs gave up. “I thought you’d be angry,” she said. “I am.” “I thought you’d hate me.” “I do.” “But you still had my number saved.” I clenched my jaw. “Yeah, because I wanted to know which grave to piss on if you died.” She looked around the hospital room again—at the machines, the wires, the IV drip, the cheap tiled floors that had seen way too much blood. “What happened?” she asked quietly. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t her business. She’d forfeited that a long time ago. She didn’t get to walk back into my life and suddenly play big sister. She didn’t get to care. But then she did something that caught me off guard. She reached into the paper bag, pulled out a small, folded blanket, and tossed it on my lap. “You’re always cold when you’re stressed. Y
JAMES ~How do you know if someone grows up in an abusive household?I remember typing that exact question on my sister’s ancient, beat-up laptop when I was twelve. The screen had a crack through the bottom right corner, and half the keys were faded from years of rage-typing essays and yelling at friends online. I’d sat in her room—no, hid there—my knees pulled tight to my chest, blood slowly dripping from the corner of my lips onto her Hello Kitty bedsheet. My hands shook like hell from the impact of the hits, and my whole body trembled in that weird way when you're trying really hard not to cry but the pain keeps reminding you you’re not made of stone.Hits delivered straight from the hands of my father. The man with the strongest arms I’d ever known and the weakest sense of love.The question I typed stared back at me on Google like it had its own judgment to pass. ‘How do you know if someone grows up in an abusive household?’ I remember squinting through a swollen eye, trying to
The door swung open with a soft thud, letting in the faint hum of voices from the hallway outside. I barely had time to glance toward it before James’ sister walked in, a plastic bag of snacks hanging from her arm. For some reason, James’ smile vanished. It didn’t fade gradually; it was immediate, like someone had flipped a switch. The playful light in his eyes drained out, replaced with something harder… warier. I froze mid-step, sensing the sudden shift in the air. The hospital room, which just moments ago had been filled with easy banter and quiet warmth, now felt heavy. Like the air had thickened and I’d unknowingly stepped into something private. “Hey,” she said, her voice casual as she nudged the door closed behind her. “You really have a knack for giving someone a scare…” she trailed off, shaking her head as she dropped the bag onto the little counter beside James’ bed. James didn’t respond right away. He just stared at her, his jaw tightening, his fingers tightening subt
“Oh… yeah,” I said quickly, stepping aside awkwardly as if I’d been caught eavesdropping—which, okay, technically I had. “I’m his sister,” she informed me, nodding toward the bed where James was still chatting like he hadn’t just been hospitalized. “You a friend?” I blinked. “Uh… yeah. Sort of.” Sort of? God, what did that even mean? Her eyes narrowed, just a little. Not in a suspicious way—more like she was assessing me. Like she was used to reading people the same way James probably read plays on the ice. “You one of his teammates?” she asked. “No, I—” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I know… Captain. I’m here for him.” “Oh,” she said, her expression changing. “You’re that kind of friend.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. I felt my face go warm. “I brought coffee,” I mumbled, holding up the bag like it was proof of my intentions. “Figured… they’d need it.” She smiled. “That’s sweet.” “Yeah,” I breathed out, looking toward the door again. Captain hadn’t not
> Where are you?There was a pause.Longer than before.I watched the “typing…” bubble appear, then disappear, then appear again.Finally, the message came in:> Hospital.I frowned.Hospital?A beat later, I was already sitting up, the relaxed slouch gone from my body. My legs still ached as I stood, but I ignored it.> Why? What happened?Another pause. Less hesitation this time.> James. He got admitted earlier today.My fingers froze on the keyboard.James?I wasn’t close to the guy—far from it. He was loud, arrogant, always had something to say that toed the line of annoying and outright inappropriate. He was also practically glued to Captain’s side, always hovering, always talking over him or nudging him during practice or team meetings.Captain’s friend.His closest, if I had to guess.> What happened?I waited.Seconds stretched.Finally:> Nothing serious. He’s talking now. He’s fine.My jaw unclenched slightly. The tension in my shoulders dropped.Still…> Send me the addres
ANDREW~Traffic was crawling. One of those late afternoon drags where the sun feels hotter than it should, the AC in your car isn’t doing enough, and every little sound—the honk of a horn, the whir of a passing bike, the muffled bass of someone’s speaker system—sets your teeth on edge.It didn’t help that my entire body still felt like it had been thrown against a wall. Or several. Multiple times.Captain didn’t text.Didn’t say bye.Didn’t wait after practice. He just… left.No nod. No look. No “see you later” or “I’ll call you.” Nothing.And I told myself not to care. Told myself it was fine. That maybe he had somewhere to be. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen leaving with me again. Maybe I should be relieved that he didn’t try anything too obvious.But I wasn’t relieved.I was just… tired.The ache wasn’t just in my muscles—it was in my chest. Something dull and bitter and a little stupid, like I’d let myself hope too much again.My palms were tight on the wheel as I finally pul