Sunday, April 5th, 2020

I hadn't had a day like this in months. A day where I felt completely and utterly sorry for my existence.

As much as I tried to hold up this exterior, an exterior that made me seem like I was getting by, I wasn't.

My parents had initially thought that maybe I had undiagnosed depression. This wasn't the case after I had been tested. I just had a lot of grieving to do, they said.

Was that still the case? Was it normal to feel like this after almost five months?

I'd never felt grief at this magnitude before. Pretending not to be sad was the hardest part. Because honestly, my brother didn't deserve my sadness. He hurt people. He hurt me.

My parents hadn't come to see if I was alright all day and it was nearly one in the afternoon. I hadn't been downstairs once.

They were still tiptoeing around me since the argument like they were afraid I'd burst any second. Despite hardly talking, they still held my leash tight. 'Tutoring' was my only way out the door besides school.

My phone begins to vibrate on my bedside table. I sit up in bed, reaching over to see who it is.

Kennedy's name flashes across the screen but I decline it. She doesn't leave a voicemail.

She'd probably heard about what happened last night with Harry. That makes me cringe. I didn't know how I was going to face him at school tomorrow.

My phone starts to ring again and I watch it vibrate in the palm of my hand.

Sydney's name flashes up this time. I don't bother declining it. I just let it go to voicemail.

They knew about last night. Why would they both happen to be ringing minutes apart otherwise?

A group text from Kennedy comes in, directed to Sydney and me.

Lon. R u ok? Harry is worried. Call us x

I should just ignore it but when have I ever listened to logic?

I'm ok. Just felt sick. Tell Harry sorry.

I backspace the part about Harry and just send the first two parts.

They both reply within minutes but I don't bother looking, already feeling guilty for having people who care enough about me.

I tap my fingers against my knee, leaning my head back against the bedhead.

My eyes roam over to my desk where my laptop rests charging. I pad over to grab it before pulling the duvet back under my chin.

I know I had math homework that was due tomorrow but I didn't care. There was only one thing that I could do right now.

I begin by typing in my brother's full name. It takes less than a second for 51,000 results to fill my page.

15 new articles have been added since the last time I checked. One of them happens to be from The Bakley Telegraph. It's written by none other than Laurel Bishop.

I read the entire article before moving onto another one from The New York Times. My stomach begins to churn.

My brother's face appears on all of them. His year 12 school picture smiling back at me. Despite his charming features, I can't help but feel the bile rising to my throat.

I skim down the page until I land on a PetitionPlus page relating to my brother. I'd seen plenty of these in past searches. One petition had wanted to have my brother's grave removed late last year. Nothing came of it and eventually the site had it removed.

This petition, however, stops me in my tracks. Although it has everything to do with my brother, it isn't directed at him.

It's about me.

"RELEASE THE KILLER'S SISTER'S NAME FOR OUR PROTECTION!"

I'm transfixed on the title. I will myself to continue reading, despite everything I'm afraid to find.

"If you thought that the Dark Phoenix was a lone wolf, then you are ALL gravely mistaken.

He had a SISTER. I went to school with both of them and let me tell you, they were extremely close. She's fucking stupid if she thinks for a second that people believe she wasn't involved too.

Well, guess what, princess? You are going to pay for what Phoenix did to my BROTHER, YOU STUPID BITCH!

Your name will be released to the public. I'll make sure of it. I don't give a flying fuck if you were a minor last year. You'll be eighteen soon.

So for everyone who wants JUSTICE, sign my petition now!

She will be known! She will be punished!"

I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe.

My hands are shaking as I continue to scroll down the page of the petition.

8,000 people have already signed it and the page has only been up for three days.

The tears are flowing down my cheeks in fast intervals, landing on my keyboard.

I scroll up again, searching for the report button. Before I can press it, my eyes land on something else. The author's name.

Aubrey Steinfeld.

How did I know that name? It was on the tip of my tongue but I couldn't quite grasp it. Obviously, she went to my old school but there was something else. Something I wasn't remembering.

I quickly open my phone and google her name. It would be easier if I still had Instagram or Facebook but I'd have to try and manage without it.

The only search results are for this petition that I'm already on and a Facebook page. I click on Facebook to see if I can still access it, despite having no account myself.

I wait patiently as my internet spins and spins, loading the page.

"Come on. Come on," I whisper, biting my nails nervously.

When it finally pops up, my eyes land on her profile picture first.

My entire body goes numb. I quickly slam the laptop shut, jumping out of bed and running to the bathroom.

I make it just in time, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

Aubrey Steinfeld.

The new girl who went to Bakley. The girl from my past. I'd finally learnt her name.

My stomach heaves again and I vomit. The only thing left is water at this point. I couldn't remember the last thing I ate.

I lean back against the cold tiled floor, catching my breath.

I'm suddenly hit with a memory of Nix from two years ago. He'd held back my hair as I'd thrown up on my sixteenth birthday. My first time getting drunk.

"I'm so sorry."

"Hey, don't apologise, sis. Things happen."

"Don't tell mum and dad."

"I won't. I promise. It'll be our little secret."

Secrets. That's what had brought me to this point in the first place.

My stomach heaves again but as I lean over the toilet, nothing comes up.

I begin to sob and I can't stop. I clutch at my chest, rocking back and forth. My heart was breaking. I could feel it physically aching.

I wanted it all to stop. I just wanted all this pain to go away.

Why hadn't I seen the signs? How did I not see my brother for who he was? Had I just lived ignorantly, thinking that he could never be evil?

I manage to stand up, despite feeling completely and utterly drained.

I make my way slowly back to my bed and crawl under the duvet. I wrap it around me as tightly as I can, squeezing my eyes shut to stop the tears.

My phone begins to vibrate next to me on my bed. I lift one arm out from under the blanket, picking it up.

Harry's name is the one to light up my phone this time. My lip begins to tremble and I sob, clutching the phone to my chest.

I had never hated myself more than I did at this moment. I was a terrible person.

I might have kept trying to think that I wasn't like my brother, but deep down, I knew that we had been similar. What if I did become like him one day?

My phone starts ringing again. This time, before I can think better of it, I answer the call.

"Harry?"