I cracked my eyes open. Last night came back to me, and I looked around my room. But there was no sign that Ezra had ever been in here.

                I sat up and stretched before crawling out of bed. I left my room and sleepily padded out to the kitchen.

                “Good morning,” my dad said, and he looked terrible. There were heavy bags under his eyes. He had a cup of coffee in his hands, and something told me that was the only thing keeping him awake.

                “I’m going to make breakfast. Do you want any?” I offered.

                He yawned and nodded. “Yea, that’d be great. I think I’m going to eat and take a nap.” He dumped the rest of his coffee and sat down at the table.

                I went over and made an omelet for me, him, and my mom. I set the plates down and sat across from dad.

                “Where’s mom?” I asked.

                “She’s in Hank’s room,” he said, rubbing his eyes and taking a bite of his breakfast. “Thanks, Rio.”

                My eyes widened a little and I pulled my shirt up to hide my neck, glad my dad was too tired to notice the hickey there. I stood up.

                “I’ll be right back,” I said and hurried out to the bathroom. I grabbed my mom’s cover up, grateful we had the same skin color, and quickly applied it to hide the hickey.

                I went back out to the kitchen, where mom and Hank were now. I eyed Hank cautiously, and he looked just as terrible as my parents. I had a feeling none of them had slept last night.

                “I’m going to go take a nap. Wake me up if you need me,” dad said, standing up. He came over and ruffled my hair. “Thanks for breakfast, Rio. It was delicious.”

                “Yea, no problem dad,” I said, watching him leave the room.

                I sat down with my mom and brother. I slid my food over to Hank, my appetite gone. He stared at it as if he had never seen food before.

                “It’s food, Hank. You eat it,” I said.

                “It’s yours,” he said.

                “I don’t want it,” I said. “I’ll probably just have some toast.”

                Hank slowly picked at it, not eating much. Mom ate half of hers before standing up and eyeing Hank.

                “Hank, you look exhausted. Why don’t you go take a nap in Rio’s room?” she offered, and shot me a look that begged me to look after him so she could sleep.

                “My bed is super comfortable,” I said. “As long as you promise not to wet it, you can nap there.” I grinned at him.

                “Yea, Rio has to babysit me, I get it,” Hank snapped, standing up and rubbing his eyes. “I’m exhausted. Come on, brat.”

                He grabbed me and mom watched anxiously. I shot her a reassuring smile as I left the room with Hank. We went to my bedroom and he collapsed on my bed. He used to sleep in my room to comfort me during a storm or after a nightmare.

                He closed his eyes and I sat in my chair, grabbing my book to read. I was pretty sure he had fallen asleep after a few minutes, so I jumped when he spoke.

                “Rio.”

                I looked over at him. “What?”

                He sat up, shooting me a desperate look. “Rio, do you love me?”

                “This is very romantic, but I’m not into incest,” I said, already knowing where this was going.

                “Rio, please, let me out of the house. Just for an hour. You don’t have to tell mom and dad. Please,” he said, his eyes begging.

                “Why? So you can have sex and shoot up with heroin?” I said, feeling the dark look returning.

                “Please Rio,” he whimpered. “It hurts so bad. I can’t stand it anymore. I need something. Please, please, please, just let me out of the house for an hour. I won’t tell mom and dad. I promise.”

                “I’m not doing that, Hank,” I said.

                “Rio, come on, you’re my brother,” he said pleadingly. “Don’t you care about me? Do you want me to see me in pain like this?”

                I choked back a laugh at that. Like he had ever cared about seeing me in pain from his problem, or from hitting me?

                He got up, coming over to me. I stood up, my body tensed up. Was he going to hit me?

                But instead, he put his arms around me. I was shocked for a moment before hugging him back tightly, because he never hugged me anymore.

                “Hank, I’m sorry,” I said quietly, closing my eyes and trying to pretend that he had never lost himself like this. “I’m so sorry.”

                “Rio,” he said.

                I opened my eyes, starting to tilt my head so I could look up at him. But then his hand shot forward, and I felt my glasses being yanked away, and everything turned blurry. I heard the sound of my glasses hitting the far wall and falling to the ground.

                Hank threw me to the floor and his blob made a run for my window, grabbing it and shoving it open. I pushed myself to my feet and lunged forward, throwing my arms around his waist and tackling him to the floor.

                “Get off of me!” he snarled, throwing wild, furious punches at me.

                I grit my teeth, bearing it as he hit me. I squinted at him desperately, but I couldn’t see him, and I gave up because I didn’t want to see him anymore.

                “I hate you!” he snapped, and I was glad that he had thrown my glasses because I didn’t want to see the sincerity in his eyes.

                “I’ll yell for mom and dad,” I threatened, even though I would only do that as a very last resort. They needed to sleep and stop worrying so much about their kids.

                “You’re a little shit! I hate you! You fucking brat!” he growled, still punching at me. “I hate you, and mom, and dad!”

                “Why? Because you love heroin so much?” I demanded.

                “I’d give up all of you in a heartbeat for drugs,” he said, and there was a cold, brutal honesty in his voice.

                He managed to throw me off of him, and I hit the ground roughly. He sprang up, kicking me roughly before moving towards the window again.

                I reached out, grabbing his ankle and yanking him so that he crashed to the ground. I winced, praying my parents didn’t wake up.

                But a moment later, as I struggled to keep a hold on Hank’s leg while he tried to kick me off, my bedroom door was flung open. I couldn’t tell who was there, but they ran forward and restrained Hank, pulling him away from me.

                “Rio, are you okay?” dad’s voice asked frantically.

                I sat up, rubbing my side where Hank had kicked me. “I can’t see.”

                “Where are your glasses?” he asked.

                “Dad, seriously, did you miss the part where I said I can’t see?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “I don’t know where they are. I think they’re on the other side of my room.”

                Dad kept a hold on Hank while he went over. He grabbed my glasses and handed them to me. I put them on my face, and was met with the charming sight of my brother glaring at me in pure hatred.

                “Come on,” dad said, pulling Hank out of the room.

                “Piece of shit,” Hank spat at me.

                “Hank, please, he’s just doing what we ask him to,” dad said gently.

                “Fuck you,” Hank said, and yanked his arm out of dad’s grip. He shoved dad away roughly when he tried to touch him again.

                “Hank, you’re tired. You didn’t sleep last night. You need to sleep,” dad said, his voice still gentle.

                “I need a fix,” Hank growled. “That’s what I need. You assholes claim you’re doing this to help, but you just make it so much worse. Do you know what it feels like? It’s feels like I’m on fire, every second of every day, and it’s hell!”          

                Dad looked so broken. I pulled my glasses off, slowly cleaning them with my shirt. Dad managed to wrestle Hank out of my room, and I put my glasses back on, standing up. I waited a few minutes before leaving my bedroom.

                I peeked into Hank’s room, where he was lying on his bed, curled up and trembling violently. Dad was watching him with an expression that said Hank was the only one in agony right now.

                “I’m going to Ezra’s,” I said.

                “I’ll call you in a little, Rio,” he said, keeping his gaze on Hank. “I don’t want you out late.”            

                “Alright,” I said and hurried out of the house.

                I got in my car and drove myself down to Ezra’s house. I got out of the car and went up, ringing the doorbell.

                Ezra’s mom answered and smiled at me. “Hi Rio! Are you here for Ezra?”

                “Well, I don’t know anyone else here,” I said as she let me in.

                She laughed. “Alright then. Ezra is in his room. Just go on up!”

                “Thanks,” I said and went upstairs.

                I pushed open Ezra’s bedroom door and stepped in. I stopped, staring at him, a little surprised.

                Ezra was curled up in the corner of his bedroom, his knees up to his chest, his hands pressed over his ears. He was in the position he had been in the night of the storm. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was whispering something to himself, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

                I went over and kicked him in the shin. He jumped in surprise, smacking his head on the wall as he shrank back. He looked up at me and his eyes cleared rapidly.

                “I was praying,” he said, smiling easily. “Way to interrupt it. God is a busy man and is hard to get a hold of.”

                “What the hell was that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

                “Faith.” He stood up, and I noticed the light trembling of his body.

                “That was fear,” I said. “But why?”

                “I don’t have to be afraid anymore. I have a big, strong man to protect me,” he said, winking at me.

                “I’m the perverted one, and stop avoiding my questions,” I said.

                “I think the brain damage is getting to me,” he said, rubbing his head where he had hit it. “Or maybe that’s hunger. Want to go get some food?”

                “Ezra,” I said in annoyance. “Stop avoiding my questions.”

                “You’re ignoring mine,” he pointed out. “I asked if you wanted to get some food.”

                He grabbed his wallet, tucking it into his back pocket. He grabbed my hand and dragged me down the stairs.

                “I’m going out with Rio!” he called.

                “Have fun!” his mom called back cheerfully.

                He dragged me out of the house and over to my car. He snatched my keys from me and unlocked it, hopping into the passenger seat.

                I got in the driver’s seat and he handed me my keys. I started the car and pulled out of the driveway, heading towards the nearest Denny’s.

                “Why were you like that?” I asked. “There wasn’t a storm.”

                He smiled at me. “Are you concerned about me? That’s adorable.”

                “Do you like me, Ezra? Enough to date me?” I asked, deciding to try a different approach.

                He looked thoughtful. “Huh, I guess I do.”

                “I won’t date you until I know why you get like that around loud noises and fighting,” I said flatly. “Are your parents abusive?”

                Laughter bubbled out of him. “I don’t think my mom could abuse me if she wanted to. Have you seen her? She’s a twig. Did you really think I was abused? My parents might slap me around if I’m being a mouthy brat, but other than that, my sister does more damage when she’s pissed at me.”

                “Then why do you get like that?” I asked, a little confused now. I couldn’t think of anything other than child abuse that would make Ezra like that.

                “Get like what?” He shot me another smile, the look in his bright green eyes so carefully composed that I almost fell for it.

                “I’m craving pancakes. What about you?” I said, letting it drop for now.

                “Pancakes sound wonderful,” he said brightly.

                I parked the car and we got out, heading inside. We were seated and gave our drink orders, picking up our menus.

                I looked around and noticed Ethan’s boyfriend Will. He was sitting a few booths away from us with another guy. They had papers laid out in front of them that looked like scripts, and were pointing at them and talking as they ate.

                My eyes slid over to Ezra. I hadn’t dated in so long. What would it be like to be in a relationship again? To have someone that I cared about, and that cared about me? To just be able to cuddle, go on dates, get a little steamy, and just…just be normal.

                I suddenly envied Ethan as I looked at his boyfriend again. Will was nodding along with what the other guy was saying, and he laughed and pointed at another part of the script. He looked happy, sure, but not as happy as he had looked with Ethan.

                Ethan had suffered through so much for so long, but now he had gotten his happy plot twist. Caring friends, a loving boyfriend, and he had fixed his problems with his dad.

                But as he got happier, I got darker. Things were looking up for him. Things were crashing down around me.

                I dragged my eyes away from his boyfriend and hid my face behind the menu before Ezra could notice my expression. I felt like a little kid all of a sudden, because I just wanted to scream “Give me my brother back!” until someone got sick of my complaining and gave in.

                But I had my brother. He wasn’t gone, and that was the problem. Physically, I had never lost him. Yea, he went to rehab pretty constantly. But I had never really physically lost him, and that was the problem. Maybe it would have been better if he had died the day he had overdosed. At least then I could mourn him and move on, instead of losing him over and over again.

                I jumped as Ezra placed his hand over mine. I looked up at him slowly, and he smiled at me.

                “Lighten up!” he said.

                “Please don’t pull your lighter out here,” I groaned.

                “Wasn’t planning on it.” His smile grew, and there was amusement in his eyes. “You were thinking dark things again.”

                “Maybe I was,” I said with a shrug, turning my hand over and locking my fingers together with Ezra’s.

                He gently rubbed circles against the back of my hand with his thumb. “Did your brother do something again? Wow, what a stupid question. Of course he did.”

                “When doesn’t he.” I shrugged again. “My parents are handling it.”

                “Something is different,” he said, eyeing me carefully.

                I felt a grin break out onto my face, darker than ever before. “You know what’s different? Hank. Hank is different. He’s almost completely gone, Ezra.” I explained what he had done. “He’s never done something like that before. He would never pretend to care about me just to sneak out. He’s stolen money before, but that was when I was asleep and my wallet in the living room. He took my money and snuck out, but my mom saw him and stopped him. But this time? This time he pretended he was hugging me because he loved me. And then he attacked me to get out. He’s so far gone he’ll sink to any level to get his fix. He’s worse than ever.”

                Ezra’s thumb had stopped rubbing circles on the back of my hand. He picked up his drink, calmly taking a few swallows.

                “There you go again,” he said. “There’s the problem, but not what it’s doing to you. It’s killing you inside, Rio.”

                “There’s nothing I can do about it,” I said bitterly. “I’ve tried everything I possibly could to help Hank.”

                “It sucks, doesn’t it?” His voice was as bitter as mine, but when I looked up, he was smiling. “When you have no control over the things that hurt you. When you can’t get away from what’s hurting you. Your family is always your family. No matter who you live with or where you go, there is always that part of you that knows Hank is your brother. And the part of you that loves him will always suffer because of it.”

                “Are you close with your sister?” I asked.

                “We have our moments, but no. Not at all,” he said with a shrug. He smiled again. “We’ve just got conflicting personalities, I guess.”

                I dropped my head. I couldn’t imagine not getting along with Hank. Growing up, he had been my idol. I had loved my brother so deeply. He had gone to a sleepover for the first time when he was 8, and I had cried the whole night because I had missed him.

                But love backfired on you. Hank had abused my love for him. He had used it against me by making me feel guilty enough not to tell our parents about his growing drug problem.

                I clenched my fist tightly. If I had just told my mom and dad, maybe none of this would be happening. I should’ve said something to them. Maybe they could’ve helped Hank in time. They had never suspected just how bad his problem had gotten. They figured he was just becoming a pot head, and tried to work with him with that thought in mind. They didn’t know he was experimenting with heavy drugs at that point.

                “You blame yourself, but it’s not your fault,” Ezra said, watching me. “Hank chose to do drugs. He had control over his own life. You didn’t. I chose to do drugs, and I chose to stop. He chose to do drugs, and he chose to keep doing them. He stuck the needle in his arm, not you.”

                I stared at him, because no one had ever put it that way before. I remember once telling my Aunt that it was my fault, and she went off about how it wasn’t my fault, I was too young, there’s nothing I could have done. And that was wrong. There was something I could have done.

                But Ezra was right. Hank had put the needle in his arm when he was 17. Hank had let himself be peer pressured into smoking weed when he was 14. And Hank was the one who attacked me and abused me.

                “Now you’re getting it,” Ezra said, his smile growing. “Don’t learn how to forgive yourself for what you didn’t do. Learn how to not blame yourself for things you have no control over.”

                The waitress came over and set our food down before leaving. I looked from my pancakes up to Ezra.

                “All this before breakfast,” I said.

                “Isn’t it great,” he said cheerfully, picking up his fork. “Let’s eat!”

                “Yea. Let’s,” I said, grabbing my own fork.

                We began to eat, and I found my mind wandering. What the hell was I supposed to do about Hank? He was getting worse. Worse than he had ever been before.

                And Ezra.

                I looked at him, remembering the way I had found him earlier. Whatever was wrong with him was also getting worse. I had to do something to help Ezra and Hank before either of them did something stupid.