“Someone, please!” Leon cried out.

He found himself jailed in the dark confines of a doorless and windowless room. An off-white hospital gown draped him, offering him little protection from the cold hanging in the stagnant air. On the back wall was a rectangular patch of light, a portal, the only door out of his prison. A pair of gleaming green eyes speared him from inside the portal as it began closing up. He raced to the shrinking shaft of light, though a moment too late. The portal was too narrow to enter.

“No!” He hammered his fist on the wall.

Yet, no matter how loud he screamed, no matter how hard he pounded, not a soul heard him beyond the pitiless walls. He wedged his arm inside the remaining sliver of portal and clawed around in empty space until his fingers snagged on what felt like hair. Yanking with all his might, whatever he had grasped ripped in his hand. The portal expanded just enough to squeeze his face through, then a blinding light engulfed him.

Leon snapped upright like a springboard, drawing in ragged breaths as if starved for air. His eyes fluttered open, taking in the familiar surroundings of the bedroom that greeted him back to reality. Early morning sunlight filtered through the mini-blinds, casting thin stripes on the wall behind his bed. Perspiration dampened his comforter, still ripe with the scent of lavender detergent. He flicked away the long strands of blonde hair entwined around his fingers and clutched the comforter closer to his chest, plush and gentle on his skin; nothing like the abrasive hospital sheets he’d been bound in over the past week or so.

He banished any lingering vestiges of the nightmare from his mind with a soothing yawn and a stretch towards the ceiling. His bleary eyes flittered to the phone on the nightstand. It was twenty past six o’clock. Roughly an hour and twenty minutes remained until school.

A grating whisper hissed through his morning fog.

Weak.

Spasms overtook him in violent waves like a voracious creature festering beneath the surface. He flinched and shed the comforter as though bitten by static electricity. He could hear the muffled music playing from the Echo in the living room. “Fight Song” was playing like it did—

Every.

                   Single.

                                     Morning.

It was the reveille of their household, the first song on his twin sister’s playlist. Though he didn’t particularly miss Rachel Platten’s battle cry of female empowerment during his period away from home, he recited the lyrics in his head, blocking out all other unwelcome sounds.

He lugged himself out of bed and shuffled towards the dresser for a fresh set of clothes. He ran a comb through his short hair and fluffed up the front, restoring the life to the locks wilted by sleep. Humming along to the distant tune, he took a long look at himself in the mirror and smiled. His family and friends were eagerly awaiting him in the world beyond his bedroom door.

…don’t deserve them.

Leon groaned and his hand went to the side of his head. The vibrant song playing outside gave way to shadowy whispers. The small boat on the ocean lazed and sank, a single word made his heart shrivel, the fight no longer left in him. Alas, Rachel Platten failed him.

He glimpsed back to the half-made bed, yearning to cocoon himself in the safety of the blankets. Perhaps he should stay home and return to school tomorrow.

His gaze fell upon the poster on his door of the slender, bald-headed man beaming at him with his arms folded across his chest—Captain Picard, the lead from his favorite show Star Trek: The Next Generation. Leon mimicked the captain’s stance and repeated the poster’s slogan: Make it so!

He dropped the stance and scrunched his brow.

How did the poster wind up on the door?

Realization wrapped its arms around him in a warm hug. His sister had relocated the poster from the wall in the far corner to the door while he was away to ensure he was met with the Captain’s radiant confidence and uplifting catchphrase whenever he ventured outside the sanctuary of his room.

Shrugging off the whispers oscillating between his ears, he staggered over to his dresser. A water bottle and pill organizer sat on top of an otherwise immaculate surface. Pills meticulously sorted and organized in the same orientation that appeared best suited for an elderly person’s bureau.  The inner neat freak inside was appeased the moment he started on the harrowing task of downing the first eight pills. Compulsion took over as it always did, taking the smallest pill first to edge the pain off his back and working his way to the largest. The moment he drew the red, ginormous tablet he was instructed to start upon discharge from the hospital, his throat closed up in protest. He guzzled water along with the pill and forced it down. Acid corroded a path from his esophagus to his stomach.

With that done and over with, everything was going to be alright just as the doctor promised.

Worthless.

The walls of his skull vibrated fiercely, forcing his hands into a scramble for the corner of his dresser, and catching his lead-weighted, teetering body. He slumped against the wood, battered, verging on defeat.

“Just one day,” he grit out through clenched teeth. “Please, just let me have today.”

A loud wail cut through his bedroom, silencing the whispers at once. He raced out the door and waded into a curtain of smoke in the kitchen. The acrid smoke burned through his bronchioles and smothered his lungs with every breath. The fire alarm came to a lull.

His sister’s voice broke through the smoke. “Crap!”

Ellie hovered over a snapping and sizzling frying pan on the stovetop, one arm clawing the tangles of smoke, the other reaching for the kitchen exhaust fan. Her head whipped around towards him, and she met his gaze with large green eyes. She let her arms fall slack at her sides, resigning her effort of hiding whatever she was trying to salvage in the pan. Ellie plastered on a sheepish smile and stepped aside, permitting him a glimpse of the charred heap on the stove.

It might have been a tortilla, once upon a time. He skimmed the littered countertop. A carton of eggs, a baggie of shredded cheddar cheese, ham, and a jar of salsa. All were readied for the deluxe breakfast she had attempted to cook up. Next to the sink, another frying pan of failure with the handle snapped off.

She approached him and draped an arm over his shoulder. “Breakfast burritos?”

He gazed past her ear at the scorched tortilla, fighting the grimace threatening to rise on his face. Although his stomach gave a needy growl, his appetite crashed and burned much like the disaster in the kitchen. The planes of her face firmed in anticipation.

Leon nodded and chuckled. “Breakfast burritos.”

Ellie’s eyes lit up with a buoyant gleam. She stretched up on her tiptoes and pressed her cheek against his, embracing him as though they’d been apart for eons. “Welcome back.”

She took a step backward, separating from him.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said.

“Of course I did.” Her hands went to her hips. “If a sister can’t look out for her brother, then who will?”

“Mom went to work already? How’s she been?”

“Better. Looking happier every day. Even got a second job at that pub.”

“Not gonna last,” he muttered. “It never does.”

Her lips tugged into a downward arch.

Leon studied her for a moment, seeking a change in topic. Today, she looked—different.

Though the crown of her head barely met his eye level, her bold new hairstyle somehow made him feel a foot shorter than her. Her dark auburn bob was now styled in a pixie cut, framing her head in staggered layers that accentuated her jawline. She concealed the pink acne scars speckling her forehead with long, side swept bangs parted to the right side of her face.

“Sweet haircut.”

“Oh.” Ellie raked her fingers through her shortened locks and smiled. “Thanks.”

Leon drew his phone from his pocket and peeked at the clock. No time for another attempt at breakfast. Without wasting a minute more, Leon grabbed his violin case and backpack, slipped on his shoes, and rushed out of the apartment with Ellie.

Bloated clouds in a drab grey sky spat rain at South Alleron. Rows of withered apartment complexes lined both sides of the street, windows either barred or boarded up, shutting out the outside world. There wasn’t an inch of plaster or brick free from the clusters of spray-painted nonsense and the insignias of local gangs. Leon hastened his pace to match his sister’s sweeping strides, staying as close to her as possible.

They rounded the street corner and strolled down the buckling sidewalk lined with a chain link fence and skeletal trees with starved roots that wreaked havoc upon the concrete. The stench of months-old trash and urine assaulted their nostrils, the unwelcome welcoming of the homeless encampment. Though Leon reminded himself to focus ahead, the sea of blue dome tents inside the abandoned auto dealership lot shot through the gaps of the chain link fence, chasing his peripheral vision. Ember flecks leapt through the steel wire, united in force with the chill, crisp breeze that whished over him. His gaze adrift, he took in the sight of transients huddling around a smoldering burn barrel and standing against the fence line sparking up cigarettes.

Something clear and cylindrical rolled beneath his shoe, pitching him off balance. A dirt-encrusted syringe devoid of needle and plunger rolled out from under the carpet of leaves engulfing the sidewalk.

A cold shudder passed through his body.

Fresh images he longed to forget flashed in front of his eyes. The last time he walked this sidewalk, there was a woman lying face-down on a bed of syringes, blonde hair fanned out on the concrete. Immobilized with dread, he didn’t dare turn the body over, though he should’ve ensured the woman was still breathing. Whose face was on the other side of that blonde head of hair? The medics arrived promptly, laid out their medical equipment on the sidewalk, and flipped the woman supine. Never had an unfamiliar face brought him such relief. The medics sprayed something up the woman’s nostrils called naloxone, and, miraculously, she jerked back to life in a matter of seconds. He shrugged off that memory from the brink of his mind and looked ahead.

They passed the liquor store on Steele Avenue where the less fortunate transients slept in front of and aggressively panhandled on the street corner. He glanced at the man sitting on a flattened scrap of cardboard, bundled tightly in a threadbare camo jacket in his usual spot. The man’s milky, unfocused eyes tracked Leon as if his vision had been restored. Leon felt a dizzying flutter in his chest, slowing his pace.

“Fire and brimstone raining down everywhere. The fall of man and the rise of demons masquerading as guardian angels,” the man muttered. “I see them, walking among us, feasting on the souls of the damned.”

Ellie nudged Leon’s arm. “Hey, you okay?”

Leon peeled his eyes off the transient and nodded as if he hadn’t heard him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Once they arrived at Alleron High School, they staked out their favorite seats in homeroom class and seized the opportunity to socialize with their fellow classmates before morning bell. Leon glanced first to the whiteboard, hoping to catch any remnant of the latest English lesson he had missed during his absence. The whiteboard was bare, minus the phallus doodled on the left side in red marker.

He half-rolled his eyes, half-smiled. Matt’s work—definitely Matt’s work. While it wasn’t a sight to behold, it was a welcome change from the off-white walls splattered with questionable stains that enclosed him over the past few days.

“Hey, Leon. Welcome back,” Leon’s best friend, Sid, called out. A huge grin spread across his face.

Leon worked his way down the aisle and seated himself at the desk between him and his other friend, Joey.

“Do you want to come over to my house and play board games?” Sid asked.

“I’d like to—” Leon’s voice trailed off.

He anchored his attention on Naomi, who entered the classroom with two of her friends.

His heart galloped in his chest. His gaze probably overstayed any welcome, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes off her. Everything about her embodied perfection. Her makeup was applied flawlessly, enhancing soft brown eyes, cherubic cheeks, and creamy pale skin. She wore dark leggings that flaunted her shapely figure and long legs. Today, a purple ribbon adorned her hair, which clipped back long, loose curls. He couldn’t help but wonder how she was going to style her hair each day with such dedication and flair. His hand passed over the phone in the pocket of his jeans.

“H-hi, Naomi—” his voice came meek.

Without so much as a glance in his direction, she shimmied past his desk to the back row where a gaggle of giggling girls had settled.

His eyes fell to the floor. A pair of hands came down on his desk, startling him. Lifting his chin, he met the bright smile of his sister’s dearest friend.

“Morning, Leon.”

“Hi, Harmony,” he replied in a dull tone.

Harmony sat down at the desk beside his sister, who was nose-deep in her phone as always.

“I like your hair,” Harmony said.

“Thanks.” Ellie pulled a smirk. “My mom hates it.”

Harmony tamped her voice down to a near-whisper, though Leon could still make out her words. “Leon’s back already? Doesn’t look like he’s feeling well today.”

Ellie shrugged one shoulder. “Well, you know him. He never wants to miss a single day of class. I mean, he’s always doing math problems even when he’s sick.”

“He got admitted there again, didn’t he?”

“He had a really bad stomach bug, you see, and—”

Leon sank deeper into his chair, a wave of shame washing over him. His sister was churning out excuses for him like she always was.

“No,” Harmony interrupted, “to Willowpool.”

Ellie flinched. She stashed her phone in the pocket of her jeans and pushed out a measured sigh. “They kept him there for a week this time.” She shuddered. “I’m so glad I haven’t gone there in a while.”

“I still don’t get why your mom keeps taking you there for routine visits.”

“She walked in on me and I didn’t minimize the internet browser fast enough. She thought they would try to cure me, and insists that I stay enrolled in the program. I’m not sick and the doctors agree with me. I’m fine with them sending her a mountain of medical bills if she wants to continue pushing it. I am who I am and she’s just gonna have to deal with it.”

Harmony waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe she herself—well you know. People hate what they hate about themselves deep inside.”

“Doubt it.” Ellie snorted. “Just a narrow-minded old fart.”

The noise in the classroom dampened as the group of girls in the back fell silent. Nearly all female eyes turned to the doorway. Bret Spencer entered the classroom, wearing his usual unbuttoned hunter green letterman jacket. Following close behind him, were his two other varsity jacket-wearing friends.

Bret honed his gaze on Leon as if stalking easy prey and gravitated towards his desk.

“Psst. Psst,” he whispered, hand pressed against the corner of his mouth. “Hey, it’s me, the voice in your head. Can you hear me over all of the other voices?”

Bret’s gang roared in hyena-like laughter.

“Piss off!” Ellie barked at him, hackles raised like a wild animal.

Bret raised his hands up in a feigned surrender. “Too soon?”

“Ellie, don’t—” Leon paused and exhaled a sharp breath. “…just make it worse.”

She glowered at Bret as if physically shoving him onward with her eyes. Leon shrank into his chair as Bret joined the rest of the jocks in the back, still talking smack about him in whispers.

A troubling thought surfaced to mind. The change in Ellie’s schedule was today, wasn’t it? He drew his own crinkled schedule from his binder and briefly skimmed over it.

English

Social Studies

Biology

-Lunch-

AP Calculus BC

Orchestra

PE

To his dismay, he no longer shared the majority of his classes with Ellie. Barring math and orchestra, they previously shared four classes together. She took geometry and Spanish as her elective. Her schedule had been almost entirely rearranged for whatever reason.

He was at peace with the brief two-class separation, but four? They still shared the same humanities block, but that was only time their schedules overlapped. Their lunch breaks no longer coincided either. Furthermore, he shared more classes with Bret Spencer than his sister.

Anxiety twisted his intestines into knots. How would he fare the rest of the semester without Ellie?

Following two forgettable lectures, the bell blared through the speakers, signaling the end of second period. Chair legs scraped on polished floor. The hoard of students poured out of the classroom, dispersing in all different directions. Leon faced Ellie in the hallway, stopping her to tell her something important before parting ways. She clutched a textbook against her chest, awaiting his response. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, words failing to form on his tongue.

“It’ll be okay,” she assured him. “If there’s any trouble, I’m only one text away from kicking ass.”

He smiled. “Even if it’s Calculus?”

“Ehh…” She averted her eyes, looking stumped. “Not that.”

Steeling his resolve, he mustered an earnest chuckle. He would brave the rest of the day without her. He would remain strong for her sake. Everything was going to be alright.

“Have a good rest of your day. Make it so!” The corners of Ellie’s mouth stretched into a grin. With her unoccupied hand, she flashed him a thumbs up and headed in the opposite direction.

She washed away into the sea of students congregating in the hallway, marooning him on the island of his own despair. His heart clenched and his throat clogged. He dreaded the day life would steal his sister away from him. In the not too distant future, they would chase their own dreams, leading them onto diverging paths.

If he even had a path to follow.

He needed her more than ever before. Not to protect him, but to protect everyone else from him.