Burn Before Reading(96)

“Ah, Burn,” Dad smiles. “Please, sit down. We were just having a discussion about what we should do to help your brother get clean.”

“He’s getting clean. On his own.” Burn insists, not moving from his spot.

“He’ll relapse without proper help. You’re the oldest brother,” Dad insists. “You need to do what’s best for them. Fitz is going to a rehab, and if I hear one word –”

Dad doesn’t hear a word from Burn. He hears Burn’s fist as it slams into the wall. Dad and I jump in our skins. Burn glowers at Dad, and this time it’s pure anger. Dark lightning and unbridled fury dances across his face.

I haven’t seen him get mad, truly mad, in years. Until now.

“He’s not going.”

Dad’s quiet, then he chuckles. “I see. Suddenly you’ve decided to take charge. Years of running away from the responsibility of this family, and now you expect me to take you seriously?”

Burn clenches his jaw, and for the first time in my life, I feel fear. I’m afraid of him, of what he could do to Dad. To me. To anyone. He’s so huge and so strong, it would be so simple for him to reach across the counter and – “You’re the one who was supposed to inherit everything, Burn,” Dad says. Reminds him, really, like the thought of money will ease his anger.

“I don’t give a damn,” Burn says, his voice shaking. “Fitz isn’t going anywhere.”

“If you fight me on this, I will change my mind. And if you fight hard, you can be sure I’ll write you out of my assets and will completely. You’ll get nothing from me upon graduating in six months. No college tuition, no trust fund. Nothing. You will be penniless and destitute on the streets of this town, and let me assure you – the streets are never kind.”

“I don’t. Need. Your money.” Burn grits his teeth. “I don’t need any help from you to live my life the way I want to.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Dad sneers. “With a high school degree and no contacts, or training, or references.”

Burn doesn’t so much as flinch. He holds up his fist, and for a second I’m sure he’s about to hit something else, but he dangles something from it instead. Something shiny and plastic.

“It took me a long time,” He says. “It’s true. I ran away, that’s true too. It was my fault. I wasn’t there for anyone. And that’s something I have to make up for.”

He throws the plastic thing on the counter, over the brochures. It’s a keychain, I can see that now. Detailed bubble letters, drawn and colored in with care, read BE SAFE. Dad wrinkles his nose.

“And what is this….filthy piece of garbage supposed to relay to me?”

“It’s a gift,” Burn corrects him. “From someone I care about. I found it at the old place we used to hang out together.”

I narrow my eyes. “That – you don’t mean –”

“You used her like a puppet,” Burn presses, his gaze burning holes into Dad. “You preyed on her, like a tiger preys on a lamb. She had no idea what you were capable of. And you used her ignorance and desperation against her. You used Wolf concern for her, for her dreams, against her. You used her like you use us – to get what you want.”

Burn stops, and looks at me.

“She left that for me. Because she was worried. Because, even if she fucked up, she’s still worried about me. About us. She still cares.”

I scoff, disbelieving.

“Laugh all you want,” Burn says. “But I believe in her.”

“She betrayed our trust,” I snarl.

“She made a mistake,” He argues. “Just like I did. Just like I did for years.”

“And you’re going to make up for it all right now?” Dad laughs, cruel and cold, and it makes me never want to scoff again, if that’s what I sound like. Burn remains strong.

“I’m going to try. I want a chance to. And that’s what she wants, too. I know it.”

“You want me to suddenly trust her again? I can’t do that,” I insist. “You know I can’t. Not after – not after everything. Not after Mark. I won’t make the same mistake three times.”

“So you’re just going to live like this?” Burn knits his eyebrows. “Sitting here, wishing she was here, but never admitting it yourself?”

“You have no idea –”

“You keep the scraps. Of her essay. I see them in your trashcan. You haven’t emptied that thing in two weeks.”

“I have nothing to throw away.”

“You have everything to throw away,” He corrects. “And every reason to do it. But you don’t. You ever ask yourself why?”

I furiously occupy my hands with the brochures. He has no idea what he’s talking about. He’s just easily swayed by – My hand freezes on a brochure. Buried beneath all the others is a brochure for a ‘mental rehabilitation center for trauma and abuse victims’. Dad sees me looking at it and plucks it from my hands.

“Ah, yes. I was perusing options for your recovery as well, Wolf.”

“Recovery –”

“For what Mark did to you, of course. This facility excels in dealing with adolescent abuse, and as an added bonus, they have a very good reorientation program.”