It's been two years since it happened. Two years after my dad got the phone call saying that my mom and I were in an accident; an accident in which took only one life when it should have taken more. To this day, I will never forget the shattering of glass as it scattered like embers across my face. The taste of blood as it filled my mouth with a sickening feeling. The last expression my mother had before colliding into the windshield.

A single tear runs down my nearly colorless cheek, followed by a few more until they were a steady stream of guilt and sorrow. Today, being the anniversary of her death, has brought nothing but depression and anger around my household. Dylan has been an asshole all afternoon and Caleb locked himself in his bedroom and only came out to use the bathroom.

Dad has been doing what he normally did since his wife's death. He sits himself on the sofa, grabs a few beers, and switches on the television to watch God knows what, and that's only after he arrives home from work.

As for me, I have secluded myself from the rest of the family to wallow in my own self pity. I can never have decent conversations with my dad before he tunes out or becomes distracted. The same goes for my brothers, whom could care less about what's happening in my life. Like me, they've never been the safe since her passing.

My thoughts are whisked away by a faint breeze. The evening air softly kisses my skin, enwrapping me in its comfort. I've always loved this time of night, especially when I'm seated upon the roof of my house. It's always so tranquil and quiet up here. There are no cars speeding down roads, no noisy neighbors to interrupt my thinking, and no one to judge me when I cry or talk to myself.

Tonight is truly beautiful, as it is every other night. Silver stars disperse in the sky, some more vibrant and some faded. Each one illuminates the darkness and creates a surreal blanket of blacks and blues. Every intricate pattern up there looks like stardust. I find it calming. This is the one thing that I enjoy about Indianapolis - the skies are never polluted by light. Mom liked that too.

My mom and I used to do this all the time. She would lead me on to the roof and we would spend hours just looking at the stars and identifying different constellations. My brothers would occasionally join us, but it was mostly just her and I. It was our time together. But now those moments are gone, and there's no way to recreate them.

"What the hell are you doing up here?" I jump and almost fall off the roof when I hear Caleb's voice behind me.

"Damn you, Caleb! God, you gave me a heart attack!" I silently yell at my brother. "I almost fell!"

He scoffs. "Please. Considering how many times you've disobeyed dad by coming up here, I'm pretty sure the chances of you falling is slim."

I chuckle a bit as he attempts to climb up, but is obviously failing. Miserably. "You're gonna break your neck if you fall."

"Shut up," he mumbles under his frustrated voice.

Once he successfully climbs up, Caleb releases a dozen sharp breaths. Sweat is gathered at his brow and is already dripping down his face.

"How can you possibly be sweating? It's only in the fifties tonight," I state.

Caleb continues panting, wiping his hands across his face to clear away any droplets of sweat. My older brother takes a seat beside me, his white shirt fortunately visible in the darkness. For a moment, the two of us sit in utter silence. Conversations with my second oldest brother usually begin like this. "So how are you?" Caleb questions.

"Now that you mention it, I am a bit chilly, but I can manage."

"No. I mean how are you?"

I know what he means. It's just too painful to talk about that I feel like I have to immediately change the subject.

Forgetting my mother would be like losing a piece of myself. But I would give anything just to dispose of any unwanted or remorseful memories, to rid my mind of guilt and to let my aura glow with compassion and honesty.

I blink a few of the additional tears away, though the pearl-like droplets left a faded residue upon my cheeks for everyone to notice. "I'm how I am every year. Hanging in there."

"Same here," Caleb mutters. "God, I can't believe it's already been two years."

"Yeah. I mean, with all those pictures of her still around the house, it's like she's still here with us."

He nods. "Can I tell you something?" I turn my attention back to Caleb, the manifest pain still lingering in his eyes. "Sometimes, I wake up and it's like she was never gone. That she's downstairs, cooking blueberry pancakes and bacon. Or getting ready to drive me to practice or something. It's like... all my senses are rebelling against me to make me think things that aren't and never will be real."

For the first time in a long time, I actually understand my brother. It's as if Mom never left us and the accident never happened. And for those first few moments, everything seems perfect and joyful. But then reality kicks in and everything becomes clear. Nothing will ever be the same again.

I place my hand on Caleb's leg while giving him a reassuring smile. "I know how you feel. All of this just... doesn't seem real yet." He takes my hand is his and gives it a friendly and brotherly squeeze that sends me comfort. "If Mom could see us now, actually getting along for once in our lives," I giggle.

"Huh, I guess these days are just filled with miracles," he replies happily. It's good to see him smile, considering I barely ever see him anymore, let alone talk to him. We both turn our eyes to the sky and I close my eyes, feeling the peace around me. Caleb, on the other hand, can't seem to find one bit of it. "I still don't get why the two of you like it so much up here."

"That's because you inherited the wrong genes," I say, keeping my face to the sky.

"No, what you inherited was an abnormality, because no person in their right mind would risk their life for the sake of staring at a bunch of little dots." I look over at him with a temptation to push him. I'd say it was an accident and no one would ever know. But I keep him around for the sake of comic relief, not to mention the mess there would be on the front lawn.

I suck in a breath of cool air and refuse to let my arrogant brother cloud my sense of newly found relief. "So did you come up here to antagonize me or tell me to come back inside?" I ask.

"Both," he says. "But mostly the first option." His dim-witted grin begins to fade as his bites down on his lower lip. I know that look, sadly all too well. "I also wanted to apologize for today."

I blink once and begin to toy with my fingers. "Don't. It's fine," I say. That's a lie.

"No, really it's not. As your brother, I should've been here for you today, especially today-"

"Okay, can we drop the subject please?" My voice rises, creating an echo in the night. Caleb backs away from the topic, not physically but mentally. I can see his brain beginning to reexamine the situation, all the twists and turns and wheels and gears. His thoughts are like a machine that matches my own, seeing as though we're related. And once I see the sadness in his eyes, I know that machine of his has stopped. "Sorry. Shouldn't have snapped."

He smirks. "I think I'll get over it," he says.

He carefully gets to his feet, taking care not to lose his footing on the weary panels of the roof. "What, am I boring you?" I question.

When he figures out his footing and gains full control over his balance, he looks down at me, his eyes shining in the light of the stars. "Some of us still need to sleep. Unlike you, who practically runs on Starbucks and mosquito bites." Caleb slaps his forearm to emphasize his point, and I giggle. "Seriously though, you're coming in soon, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be in in a bit." My brother leaves without another word. I watch as he struggles to climb down the beaten, wooden ladder that's posted on an even older balcony just outside the kitchen. When I finally hear the sound of the sliding door, I know I'm now alone.

~~~~~

"C'mon sis. Time to make breakfast." I mumble curses at Dylan for waking me up so damn early. Even though it's a Monday and I have school, he still woke me up before the normal chime of my alarm. "Ugh, c'mon Rowen! I'm freaking starving!" Dylan whines from my doorway, kind of childishly.

Groaning, I rub my eyes with my fingertips to clear away any colorful blurbs that threaten to blind me all over again. "Can't you make it yourself today? I'm too exhausted to even argue with you right now."

"Hey. Don't blame me for your exhaustion when you were the one fantasizing on the roof last night."

I shoot straight up. "Who the hell told you?!"

"Who do you think told me?" It was evidently Caleb unless I talk in my sleep which I highly doubt. "You and I both know that the guy cannot keep his mouth shut."

"Well, that still doesn't give you an excuse to wake me up so damn early," I sigh, rolling my eyes.

Dylan's figure leaves my doorway, escaping into the hallway. "I expect you downstairs in five minutes!" He hollers from the stairway.

A silent yawn leaves my mouth, but I'm practically glued to the sheets. Ignoring my arrogant, oldest brother, I close my eyes once more and attempt to get a few more minutes of rest. It isn't until Dylan's annoying pleas to make breakfast return that my bough finally breaks. "Okay, it's been over five minutes. Why the hell aren't you-" I chuck my pillow at him before he could finish.

~~~~~

Caleb and Dylan both sat on opposite of the table, gobbling down the last of their eggs and toast that I prepared for them. Because I'm quite the selective eater, I made myself a scrambled egg and a few pieces of toast as well. I concocted a meal for Dad as well, but he's currently M.I.A and I have no idea where he is. "Where's Dad?"

"He had to go into work early today," answers Caleb as he chews on a mouthful of fried eggs. "He also said that he'd be back later tonight."

Of course. What else is new?

"You sure he said tonight and not tomorrow night? Or the night after that? Or a damn month from now?" Dylan sneers, raising his voice.

I look at him with concern. Anger floods through his eyes. "What's gotten into you?"

Dylan slouches in his chair, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the sides of his head. "Touchy subject, that's all," is all he says. He picks up his fork and cuts into his eggs as well, shoving a large bite into his mouth.

He doesn't meet my eyes at all as I stare at him. Even Caleb doesn't seem to notice what his brother just said. "So now you can't even talk about him without wanting to punch a hole through the wall?" I ask, growing irritated.

"Well what do you expect, Rowen?" Dylan asks, swallowing what's left of the massive bite.

"Okay, guys, can we please just put this conversation to rest before someone breaks something?" Caleb asks.

Dylan glares at him, but it only lasts a moment or two when he realizes just how stupid this argument really is. It's true, Dad and Dylan have a complicated relationship, but nevertheless, he's still his dad. Our Dad.

Ever since Mom passed, Dad and Dylan would always argue, mostly about Dad's obsessive drinking. I hardly talk to either of them anymore and Caleb likes to avoid conflict as much as possible, and I'm not surprised. It's not like the fights ever involve violence, aside from the occasional death threats, but those only arise during the worst confrontations.

There was this one time when Dylan was accusing Dad of being an ungrateful bastard who doesn't respect his children and Dad counterattacked by calling him much worse. In fact, things got so bad at home that both my brothers had to quit college because they didn't want me home alone all the time with Dad, even though I was sixteen at the time and I could take care of myself.

A few minutes pass without a single word from anyone. I look over and see Dylan glaring at Caleb again. "Alright, spit it out," he says to him.

Caleb looks up from his plate, raising his eyebrows. "What?"

"Well, you seem a bit tense over there. Have something you wanna say?" Dylan asks, leaning against the back of his chair with his arms crossed.

I shoot daggers at him. "Dylan, stop it."

But that doesn't stop Caleb from speaking up. "It just bothers me that you can't even acknowledge Dad's existence anymore without wanting to put a bullet through his head."

Dylan leans into the table with an amused look on his face. "He's breathing, and I hate him. Can we just leave it at that?"

"He's your goddamn father," Caleb says, growing more rankled by the second.

"Not by choice." Dylan picks up his glass of milk and brings the liquid to his lips.

My gaze plays tennis as it is bounced from one of my brothers to another until it lands on the second oldest. "You're being a heartless prick, you know that?" Caleb says to Dylan with his arms crossed.

Dylan sets down his empty cup and looks threateningly into his little brother's eyes. "You seriously wanna play the blame game? Because that is not a rope you wanna pull."

"You may hate Dad, but have you even considered anyone else's feelings in this. How do you think it makes me feel, or better yet, how do you think it makes Rowen feel when she has to listen to you go on and on about how her father is this terrible person with no love or compassion for his own kids?"

My head begins to pound. "Leave me out of this," I order, but they don't seem to be paying attention. Or caring.

"I'm doing us all a favor!" Dylan claims. "Plus, what kind of father leaves his kids every morning before even saying goodbye or even eating breakfast with them?"

"You know he has work," Caleb counter argues.

"Bullshit! The guy is a full-on drunkie nowadays. There's no way in hell he can keep a job with his drinking habits." He isn't wrong, under some extent. Dad's drinking has skyrocketed ever since that night. Bills have been piling up and he's been forgetting to pay the mortgage for a few months now.

Caleb and Dylan continue going at it while I sit uncomfortably in my chair, trying to block out their words of pure hatred.

"Will you shut up already?" Caleb says over Dylan, making me twitch. "You're not making things any better, and you're not gonna solve anything by lashing out on the family every time when even mention Dad."

Dylan lets out a loud, sarcastic laugh. "Family? Family? What family, Caleb? Huh?" He leans forward. "We are not a family anymore. All we are is a pile of broken parts that can't be fixed. So take a good dose of reality, bro."

That's it. That's it.

I can't take any more of their quarreling.

Without saying another word, I quickly arise from my chair, not caring about the small morsels of food I left scattered on my plate. Their voices grow more silent when they realize that I'm stomping out the door and towards my car, also known as the shitbox I got for a steal at some cheap dealership.

Tears threaten to fall, but I hold them back. First my father and Dylan, and now both of my brothers are bickering. So much damage was inflicted on the family once the fighting began, but now it's only growing. It's like this contagious sickness with no cure and no method of improving it.

I start my engine and leave the driveway, not even bothering to check my mirrors for any approaching cars. Why would it matter? It's not like I have anything to live for anymore.

~~~~~

I get a few missed calls from both Caleb and Dylan, probably just to make sure that I'm okay or to apologize for their behavior at breakfast. I honestly couldn't care less what they have to say, especially Dylan. What he insinuated about us not being a real family anymore really got to me.

Pulling into the massive parking lot, my phone chimes on the passenger seat. Probably just another text message from Dylan or Caleb. Either way, I glance downwards to check the text. That was a big mistake.

The moment I take my eyes away from my phone and back on the road, I notice a couple walking hand-in-hand right in front of me. In a panic, I pound my foot against the break, sending a screeching noise through the air. My heart is already thundering in my chest, storming in alarm.

The couple jumps backward, resulting in a cup of coffee staining the girl's white shit. She opens her mouth and gasps at the heated touch of her beverage against her skin. Her boyfriend is already furious and glaring at me, while the girl screams swears repeatedly. I'm already sinking in my seat and trying to conceal my face. I am so screwed.

Both stomp up to my car window, ready to get recognition. It isn't until they are both in my face that I realize who I almost killed.

Olivia Spinelli.

Olivia batters at my window with her fist, one sharp knock after another. I hesitate to roll the window down, but I don't think I have another choice, unless I want to be overpowered by Olivia's rampaging indignation.

Once the glass barrier is down, the only thing standing in the between Olivia and her hunt for blood, I instantly wish I hadn't. "Are you kidding me right now? What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention and I-"

"Damn right, you weren't paying attention!" She continues to paw at her chest, trying to get rid of the stain. Like that will work. Olivia's face softens when she gets a good look at me. "Oh. Well, look who it is." I'm silent. "I'm surprized you decided to show your face today, Rowen. Thought you'd be wallowing in your bedroom all week."

I shrug as I try to keep my emotions in line, each one fighting for upper command. "Sorry to disappoint you," I say.

She leans in closer until her face is just within the borders of my car. "You may think you're all smart and innocent, but you can't pretend with me. I see right through your little act." She pulls away and looks down at her shirt in disgust. Her boyfriend, Darian Sergin, looks over her shoulder and pins his eyes on me, daring me to speak. But it only enkindles unwanted feelings that's enough to bring forth the tears.

Olivia and Darian exchange glances, as if they've won some kind of battle. I refuse to let them see me cry. I will not give them that advantage. So before any tears fall, I slowly drive off, leaving Liv and her boy-toy in my rearview mirrors.

Once I'm pulled into a parking spot, I completely break down, not caring who's watching. I press my forehead against the steering wheel as the tears dropped off my eyelashes.

You're such a pathetic coward. Why do you always have to cry? My inner-self mocks me. I'm not ready to go into that building for everyone to see and mock or talk about me behind my back. No one is to see me cry and no one is to show me any pity either.

If only I didn't blame myself all the time, knowing well that a small portion was not my fault. If only people knew the full story about what really happened that night. If only I could tell them.

A/N
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