When Words Run Out of Time

⚠️  TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ 

this chapter contains the discussion of topics that may be triggering or discomfort-inducing to some readers

mostly subtle but still 

I should try talking to them. Now that I know what happened, it should be easier. I should know what to say.

So why don't I?

They're suicidal. I'm suicidal. We should understand each other. That's something we have in common, wouldn't that help?

I don't know, maybe it... scares me a little that it's something we have in common. Maybe I don't like it.

Why does everything have to be so complicated?

I groan, rolling off my bed and hitting the floor with a thud. Ow, fuck.

Thank god I have my hair pulled back, otherwise detangling it would make me want to throw myself out the window. Speaking of, maybe getting some fresh air will do me some good.

I pad down the stairs, scratching my head and mentally reviewing the contents of the pantry that I can remember.

When I reach the kitchen, I slide through the doorway past my brother. He rumples my hair until I hiss and bat his hand away.

"Touch my hair again and I swear, ya skleyu tobi paltsi poky ty spish,"

Mason laughs. "Sure you will. Quisiera ver que lo intentés."

I roll my eyes and open the fridge. He leans against the door and I can feel his gaze on me. Every time I sneak a glance between examining a carton of apple juice or pushing aside a tupperware of last night's dinner, his eyebrows are slightly furrowed and his face contemplative.

"What," I ask flatly.

He shrugs. "You seem... edgy. More than usual, I mean. And not just angsty teenager edgy, 'cause even I wasn't like that at your age."

"Shut up, you fucking were. Like, four years ago. Most adult teenager I've ever seen."

Mason snorts. "Calm down, you don't need to cuss me out, Jesus Christ."

His expression turns serious once more. "Really, though, is everything alright? Nothing going on at school or anything that I should know about?"

He's studying me quizzically, with one eyebrow cocked. The bags under his eyes seem to be getting worse by the day. The knot in my stomach tightens and I avoid his gaze.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. Just tired." I pull out a jar of pickles and close the refrigerator door.

My brother isn't stupid. He knows I'm lying. I know he knows. He probably knows I know he knows, too. But he doesn't push it. Instead, he shrugs, and messes up my hair again as I walk past with the pickles.

"Suit yourself, manita," He says. And I will, thank you very much.

"My hands are not tiny."

"They were when I met you."

"I was two days old."

"Doesn't change the fact that your hands are smaller."

I roll my eyes and walk until I get to the door to our back porch. I swing open the screen door, and warm afternoon air hits my face—thick, golden, and heavy with all the thoughts I've been trying to drown.

Sym's sitting on the swing, having hoisted herself up out of her wheelchair –which sits nearby– onto the swing. Gotta admire her determination and upper body strength. Her legs are long enough for her feet to graze the ground and rock her back and forth.

Wordlessly, I hand her the pickle jar and sit on the swing with her. She grins and unscrews the top. She pulls out a pickle and offers it to me. I decline. She shrugs as if to say 'suit yourself' and takes a bite.

Sitting here with my sister is miraculously calming and peaceful. Being able to sit in silence without it being awkward is something we need more of in the world.

The peace doesn't last long, though. No matter where I go, what I do, the anxiety follows me relentlessly. I keep thinking of... them.

It feels weird, to finally know their name. To finally have something to call them besides '抖阴社区r'. It makes them seem more... real. Human. Like, they're an actual person and not some distant, ambiguous creator.

I'll admit, it also feels kind of uncomfortable. It was easier not to think about them, push them out of my head, keep them at a distance when they were just '抖阴社区r', but now...

Now they're Zaire. A kid—just like us. Just like me. They could've been anything, anyone. But they ended up here. Like this.

Calling them Zaire feels weird. Too personal. Too real. But... It's their name now. So I'll try.

I let out a sigh of frustration and pull my legs up, resting my chin on my knees. My sister looks at me quizzically, one eyebrow cocked. Her teeth crunch down on another pickle. Listening to her chew is kind of like ASMR.

I huff, blowing my bangs up as I finally cave. "How the hell are you so calm?"

She shrugs nonchalantly, which doesn't help. Goddammit, Sym.

"I guess it's just... a kind of understanding," she says slowly. "Or maybe acceptance. Just knowing that sometimes... Bad things happen. And there's nothing you can do. You just have to live with it."

She pauses, then adds, "You can't always control what happens to you. Sometimes you're just stuck with the aftermath, and all you can do is try to survive it."

My eyes drift to her legs, rocking us back and forth. Normally, you can't see her leg braces, because she wears pants over them. Not today, though. She's wearing shorts. My grip on the swing tightens.

Her gaze follows mine, and she gives her leg a little pat wordlessly.

"That's... kind of morbid," I say.

She chuckles. "Yeah. A little."

I hesitate. "There could be another attempt."

Sym nods. "Yeah. There could."

"And it might not just be an attempt next time. They could die. And we might die with them." My voice wavers, and the words feel heavier than I expected.

She squeezes my hand, firm and steady. "Yeah. We might."

With a shaky sigh, she puts her arm around me. I rest my head on her shoulder, and the swing creaks beneath us, its rhythm slow and steady—like a heartbeat that isn't mine, but close enough.

I crave death as much as I fear it. If they go, we might too. And I don't know what scares me more—dying, or watching them vanish first. 

hey chat how are we

in all honesty I don't have much to say about this chap

idk I been thinking about writing it for a while now, so now that its out of the way its kinda surreal-

uhhhh yeah 

longer than the last, 1048 words dam

hope u enjoyed

next chap will be the last before the epilogue, are u ready for this to end cuz I am and am not

god im so tired I cant wait to be done but imma lose my life's purpose so like idk

have a good day or night drink some water ik it's been a while since u last did

I will go make pasta and guard it against my pasta-napping friend 

no cap this shit bussin

uhhh bye 

-JJZ