Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
He simply shakes his head, tears forming on his bottom lashes. "I’m not."
I rub his back. I don't say anything because there's nothing someone could say to me to make it better. I don't feel the need to share my own pain as if I need to one-up him on the grief meter. This isn't a competition, but I still feel like I'm somehow getting the short end of the stick.
I don't mind being the shoulder for him to lean on, but where's my shoulder? Who can I rely on to hold me and tell me everything will be okay?
I know I made the right decision to pull the cameras. I wasn't lying when I told whoever might be on the other side watching that we needed time to grieve, I just didn't realize how hard that would be while feeling all alone.
It took less than a week of spending time with Eddie for me to grow accustomed to him being here, to his smiles and the way he watches me as if he's ready to jump in at any moment if I start to crumble.
I feel like I need him now more than ever, and knowing I may never see him again because his work here is done seems to amplify my pain.
I also don't know how long the lie will last.
Is it possible that the fake story of her overdosing will be the real story? Is my little sister's legacy to be her dying from drug use and not that someone had her killed?
Would that even be possible if there's an arrest in her case?
I know either way isn't a story the family will want to be told, but it'll be someone opposed to William being in office that would leak the story to the press, and they'd have a field day over such a scandal. Even if William isn't involved, I know how easily a story can be twisted enough for a conspiracy theory to take hold.
"What are you thinking?"
"Hmm?" I ask, clearing my head of all the what-ifs so I can focus on the present for the time being.
"You seemed lost," Chris whispers as he uses his fork to push his food around his plate, seeming to have no interest in actually eating.
"I think I am a little lost," I confess with a sad smile. "I don't know what to do."
"From the sounds of it, William has it all under control like usual," he mutters with a hint of the anger he showed when he yelled at our brother for being so insensitive last night.
"I think he feels like he has to be strong for us," I say in William's defense, wishing he would've gotten upset in front of both of us last night so there wouldn't be this hint of bitterness in Chris's tone.
"How is that even possible?" he asks with a hitch in his voice as if he's near the point of crying all over again. "She was our sister, and now she's gone."
I lean into him, pulling him to my chest, wishing that I could ease this for him, and it kills me to know that I can't.
"I think it might be good if you spoke with someone," I urge.
He pulls back, using the back of his hand to dash away his tears as he looks up at me.
"Like a therapist?"
"It might help," I continue. "Maybe even a guidance counselor at school?"
He scoffs as he stands with his plate, carrying it to the sink. I frown when he puts it in the basin without scraping the food into the garbage disposal. He has always been so absent minded about the work he creates for others, but instead of chastising him this time, I'll just clean up after him. He deserves a little grace with the news he has just gotten.
"Do you think William would be okay with me speaking to a stranger about family issues?" he asks.
"We could find someone on the approved list," I offer instead because he has a valid point.
As much as we probably both need to speak to someone in order to manage our grief, we also have to keep in mind that regardless of professional responsibility, there are people out there who could leak family business for the right price.
"I think I'm going to head back to school," he says.
"Are you sure? You don't have to. I'm sure they'll be lenient—"
"I need something to take my mind off all of this," he says waving his hand around to encompass the entire house as if it is part of the reason our sister is dead.
Maybe he's right. Maybe the way we were raised and the expectation that we all appear perfect was the catalyst that forced Sadie to act the way she did. How would her life have ended up if she had grown up in a family that wasn't subjected to such criticism and high tenets?