Chapter 7
Three days later,
the medical team finally removed the ventilator tube from my throat.
My voice was nothing more than a faint,
raspy whisper,
and every swallow felt like drinking liquid fire.
The hospital room felt quieter,
filled with the soft scent of fresh lilies that Daniel had placed on the windowsill.
The door opened gently,
and my fourteen-year-old brother,
Caleb,
stepped inside,
his school backpack slung over one shoulder.
His eyes were swollen and red,
his small frame swallowed by an oversized dark hoodie.
"Emma?"
he called out softly,
his voice trembling as he hovered near the edge of the bed.
"Hey,
buddy,"
I rasped,
holding out my hand,
weakly patting the mattress beside me.
Caleb rushed forward,
dropping his backpack onto the floor,
and buried his head into the side of my blanket,
sobbing uncontrollably.
"I'm so sorry,
Emma,"
he wept,
his shoulders shaking under my touch.
"I should have said something sooner,"
he cried,
his tears soaking through my thin hospital gown.
"What do you mean,
Caleb?"
I asked,
my chest tightening with a sudden wave of anxiety.
Caleb lifted his face,
wiping his wet nose on his sleeve,
his young eyes filled with immense guilt and fear.
"Two months ago,"
Caleb confessed,
his voice dropping to a terrified whisper,
"I went down to the basement to borrow Uncle Ray's video game controller."
"I saw him standing over your open tub of protein powder,"
he continued,
his hands shaking in his lap.
"He had a eyedropper,"
he explained,
"and he was dripping clear liquid into the powder and mixing it with a plastic spoon."
I stared at my little brother,
my heart aching for the burden he had been carrying alone in that house.
"Did you ask him what he was doing?"
I whispered gently.
Caleb nodded slowly,
a fresh tear falling down his cheek.
"I asked him,"
Caleb said,
"and he got really mad."
"He grabbed my arm super hard,"
he recalled,
"and told me it was special medication to help your stomach feel better."
"He said if I told you or Daniel,"
Caleb choked on his words,
"he would tell Mom that I was stealing money from her purse,
and they would send me away to a military boarding school."
"Oh,
Caleb,"
I murmured,
reaching up to pull him into a tight embrace despite the sharp pain in my chest.
"He lied to you,"
I told him softly,
resting my chin on his soft head.
"He was using you to cover up his crimes,"
I said,
feeling a surge of protective anger wash over me.
"Mom knew too,"
Caleb added,
looking up at me with eyes full of betrayal and confusion.
"Last week,
I heard her talking to Ray in the kitchen,"
he revealed.
"She told him that you were starting to look too pale,"
he said,
"and that people at your high school were going to start asking questions."
"And what did Ray say?"
I asked,
my voice steady despite the horror of his words.
"Ray told her to shut up and let the medicine do its job,"
Caleb whispered,
shuddering at the memory.
"And Mom didn't do anything,"
Caleb sobbed,
"she just wiped the counter and walked upstairs."
The full depth of my mother's callousness settled over the room like a cold blanket.
She had watched her own daughter deteriorate week by week,
watching my hair thin,
watching my weight drop,
watching me collapse on the kitchen floor,
all for a financial payout to clear her brother's gambling debts.
"You're not in trouble,
Caleb,"
I reassured him,
cupping his small face in my weak hands.
"You saved my life by calling 911 when I fell,"
I reminded him.
"If you hadn't picked up that phone,"
May you like
I said firmly,
"I wouldn't be sitting here today."
