Jordan spent the weekend helping his grandmother move a few hours away.

It was the first time in what seemed like forever that he wasn't at my side, and I couldn't lie and say I didn't feel uneasy about it. The fact that Nick had straight up threatened to hurt me and could if I step outside the door unaccompanied made me sick.

Yet, I still found myself sitting in the parking lot of the cemetery that my sister, niece, and nephew lay buried six feet under, grasping the steering wheel of my father's car so tight my knuckles had begun to lose color. Once I gained enough motivation to get out, I grabbed my dad's pocketknife from the glove compartment and jumped out of the drivers seat and on to the hard asphalt.

Though it was midafternoon, the darkness of the storm clouds encasing our small town made it feel much later. I hated the cemetery as it was, it legit gave me the creeps. But it was the only way I felt a connection to my sister anymore. All I wanted was to talk to my big sister, tell her all the crap that had been going on, even if it meant I was talking to nothing more than a rock. At least I could get it off my chest with no judgement, no condescending looks, no scolding.

My trek to my sister's grave was cut short when I caught sight of a bright red letterman. Our school colors stood out like a sore thumb against all the dead grass beneath my feet.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I couldn't stop myself from speaking.

Chase flew a couple inches back, staring at me in shock, catching his breath. I had, no doubt, scared him.

"What are you doing here?" He finally croaked once he was able to steady his breathing.

"I came to see my sister and her kids." I made a gesture behind me. "I do it every Saturday."

He nodded toward the headstone, not responding. I looked down, frowning a little.

He had come to talk to his mom.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." I said quickly, ready to cross the cemetery to find my sister's grave. "Go ahead."

Even though he wasn't here physically, I could practically hear Jordan telling me to keep moving and leave Chase alone.

"I don't even know why I come here." Chase grasped the headstone, using it as a prop to force himself back to his feet. "I'm literally talking to a rock and a rotting corpse. She's not even here."

The way he phrased it I suddenly wanted to turn and leave, not evening wanting to go talk to Vanessa anymore. Because he was right. These were no more than memorials. If we wanted to talk to them, we'd get just as much out of talking to an old picture of them, with a lot less creepiness and cold.

"See you around." Him brushing passed me was enough to trigger my common sense.

"How are you getting home?" I raised an eyebrow. "How'd you even get here?"

He smiled. "UBER."

I nodded toward my dad's Silver Hyundai in the vacant parking lot. "Let me drop you off."

I could tell he was ready to object, but a loud rumble sounding above us, shook him enough that he reluctantly agreed.

We remained silent with the exception of him pointing out the fastest route to his house.

"I hate cars." He eventually broke the uncomfortable silence. "The accident was all it took for me to never want to drive."

I glanced sideways at him, surprised. "You were in the car with your mom?"

The fact that I had been having Jordan play chauffeur for me for the last two years for that exact reason made me more uneasy than anything else today.

Maybe Chase and I were even more alike that we thought.

"Yeah. Think that's why my dad hates me so much. Because I'm here and she's not. I survived while she was taken away from us."

I nodded, not knowing how to respond.

"The abuse started before then, though. So I'm not sure if that was the case. It definitely got worse and more frequent after she died, but he's been using me as his mobile punching bag since I was ten."

"Did she know?" I shot him a sad look. "Your mom."

"Yes. At least I think so. I always told her it was kids at school pushing me around, but it wasn't hard to put two and two together. I was just scared he'd turn his anger and rage on her and I couldn't do that."

I frowned. "He never hit her?"

"He did once when I was thirteen. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen table and threatened to kill him if he did it again. He never touched a single hair on her body after that." Chase rested his head against the window, squeezing his eyes shut. "When I found out she was pregnant again I begged her to leave him. I didn't want my little sister being raised the way I had."

"The night of the accident we were trying to leave, get out of town before he woke up and found us gone. But my mom swerved because another car was driving in her lane and she wrapped the car around a tree."

I wanted to reach out and comfort Chase, but I knew better than to try that. He looked as if he were in another time, another place. I didn't want to break him out of that.

"We're here." I eventually muttered, cutting the engine. He pried his eyes open and stared ahead of us, watching intently as snow started to slap against my windshield, making it so the street was no longer visible.

"Come inside. Wait for the storm to clear up.I know I told you to stay away, but I woudn't be able to live with myself if something happened. I'm sure Jordan and your parents would agree."

I didn't have to be told twice, I knew without a doubt I wasn't going to be able to safely drive in this. I followed him up his driveway and to the front door, but he hesitated walking in.

As soon as we stepped through the front door I understood why. Coach Parker sat on the loveseat with a girl that didn't look to be much older than us, doing a little more than just talking. Her hand was resting on his inner thigh and looked as though it would have moved up even higher if we hadn't interrupted.

"I told you to-Harper?" Coach Parker rose to his feet, the anger that had been directed at Chase moments ago now directed at me. "Is this little bitch the reason you've been acting out? Is she why you're getting into so much trouble and ending up in so many accidents?"

Chase stared his father down. "She's the reason I'm not dead."

Coach Parker slowed to a stop in front of us, eyes on me. "Everyone knows she's got a little attitude and has done nothing but talk shit about you, boy, and you bring her into my house?"

"This isn't your house. It was my mother's."

Realizing he wasn't getting the reaction he wanted out of his son, he stepped closer to me, narrowing his eyes. "I think you should get out of my house."

"I think you should shut up." I responded before I could filter my thoughts. "And learn what personal space is."

Coach Parker blinked, clearly taken back by response. Chase shook his head, then nodded toward the staircase. I knew better than to continue to talk back to his father, as it probably wouldn't end bad for me, but for him.

Halfway to the stairs, with him in tow, his dad spoke. "That's how he likes them you know. Bitchy and slutty."

Chase turned around slowly, teeth gritted. "Shut the f-."

Before I could understand what was going on, Coach Parker backhanded Chase hard under his right eye. My dumbass decided to step in front of him the second his father's hand came down, and I ended up with a hit right to the nose. He hit so hard blood immediately poured out. I saw a fearful look pass through his eyes, but Chase blocked my view of him before he could say a word.

"Damn it, Veronica." He groaned, shaking his head. Not wanting to ask his father for help nor leave me standing there covered in blood, he slid out of his letterman and pressed it hard against my nose, tilting my head back just a fraction of an inch.

"Come on." Chase helped me up on to the first stair, "Before I kill him."

*

Stretched out along my couch, eyes shooting back and forth between my parents, I couldn't bring myself to tell that what actually happened. I knew that it could actually benefit Chase if his father were to have charges pressed against him, but I also understood that it could make his life even worse. For some reason, Chase stood and took his father's abuse with open arms, as if he felt he deserved every ounce of it. But when it came to me, or his mother apparently, he was willing to drive a knife through his own father's heart.

I hadn't really known what to expect his room to look like, but there was surprise when I walked in to find a room full of football trophies and pictures of his mom hung all around. The mess and disorganization I'd pictured every teenage boy's room to look like was the opposite of his own. Everything in the room had been meticulous, as if having one thing out of place would result in the end of the world. I hadn't stayed long nor did we really talk, but had just sat at the edge of his bed as he helped me get my nose to stop bleeding.

"If you're not going to tell us where you were or how that happened, we have no choice but to ground you, Ronnie." My dad said, arms crossed over his chest. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but we're worried about you."

I stood. "Worried about me? Why? Because you're scared I'm going to end up like Vanessa?"

"You're not much better!" My little brother snapped as he stepped out of the darkness of the hallway and into the dim light of the dining room, green eyes pooling with tears. "You're acting just as selfish, V. I understand that you're trying to help Puck, that you're trying to figure it all out too, but you almost died that night. Then what? Huh? What about me? You promised you wouldn't leave me."

My mom's hand fell over her chest hearing my little brother's voice break. It was the first real emotion he'd showed since his mini rebellious phase after Vanessa died.

"Vic-"

He held his hand up. "Don't try and explain shit to me. Jordan tries over and over again to defend you actions to me to, to make me understand. But it's not enough. You aren't slitting your wrists, or doing drugs, no, but you're hurting yourself and those around you without a second thought. You're no better than Vanessa. You're no better then Puck."

He stormed down the hall and out of the living room, slamming his door so hard that I could hear a few frames fall.

I stared at my dad for a moment, touching my aching nose. "I'll go talk to him. I'm sorry, Mom. Dad. I really am. I'm not going to do this anymore, I promise."

*

It took over ten minutes to convince my fourteen year old brother to unlock the door. Once he did, he threw himself back down on the bed, burying his face in his pillow. I gently pushed the door shut behind me and joined him on his bed, touching his shoulder with my fingertips. "I'm sorry, Vic."

"I thought you helping Puck would be a good thing. That he'd get better and you'd feel better about doing it. I. . . I didn't think he'd keep trying to kill himself. I didn't think I'd lose my sister."

Vic said, rolling on to his side so he was staring up at me.

"You haven't lost me, Vic."

"But how many more times until I do, V? Until you end up hurt or dead because you're too busy trying to fix everyone but yourself."

I looked down at the white carpet under my mismatched socks. "I'm sorry, Vic. You're right, I have been selfish. All I've done is alienate you and Jordan and I'm so so sorry."

My brother sat upright and hugged me, a gesture that startled me so much I stiffened. He hadn't done it since Vanessa's funeral.

Everything that my brother had said was the final straw for me. Not the bridge and almost dying, not almost getting a broken nose. Not even tossing my best friend aside as we tried to figure out where our relationship stood. It was watching my little brother fall apart. Because at the end of the day, even though I did care about Chase, my brother would always come first. As I sat at the edge of my brother's bed until his breathing became heavier and I knew he was asleep, I couldn't help but stare down at my hands, still with faint blood specks on them.

Somewhere in this whole mess I'd lost myself, and I have no idea if I'll ever be able to get myself back.