The watering of his eyes brings so much emotion to mine, the first tears falling as I grip him harder. My arm makes it around his neck, my legs around his waist. I lock onto him, refusing to let go, and I grapple with my doorframe, holding it with my other hand in a desperate death grip.
Losing that grip, my fingers fly back to Ambrose, clutching at his clothes.
“I won’t let go.”
Men’s arms wrap around me, pulling me away from the person I love most in the world as we move through the hallways and away from my perfectly lit room. From the tranquil hue that suits us both, to bright hallways that Ambrose squints his way through as he’s dragged backward. His legs kick and thrash, unable to break away from the forty fingers boring into him.
I hiss in Dad’s direction, seeing him at the stairs, leaning over and covering the eyes of a gargoyle with an arm that takes his weight.
Katie and Amy stand behind him, whispering things into each other’s ears behind cupped hands.
“What did you say!” I yell at them, and Dad mistakes my direction.
“Only that we need help.” His lips become tight, not realizing I was talking to someone else.
My skin prickles with goosebumps because these days, I only see these girls when I’m sad or stressed… and no one else sees them at all.
Those feelings will become overpowering if I let these people take Ambrose away. I’ll be haunted.
I turn, watering eyes back on Dad, feeling no pity for him and the cut above his eye that sits with a purple swelling around it.
Making it downstairs, Dad’s heavy footsteps follow, and Mom appears from somewhere, too. Sadness is a common expression for her, but it’s stronger today on her blotchy red face.
Pointless whispered apologies seep from her mouth to Ambrose, while, as usual, Dad says nothing. Both parents peel at my arms, forcing me to break my connection with my brother.
Ambrose’s feet protest and slide in his socks over the shiny wooden floor, as the strangers and our parents drag our torsos away from each other.
“No. No!”
Ambrose’s wild eyes mirror my tone as Mom steps between us, her hands removing my legs from around his waist, the only physical thing joining us together as those guys in white keep his hands behind his back, stopping him from reaching for me.
And then, we have nothing.
Screams fill the air, all my desperation coming out in broken sobs that I doubt even my mother, who stands inches from me, understands.
Ambrose feels them all, tears dripping from his eyes, telling me everything I need to know.
That our time together is over.
I claw at the air between us. My throat turns raw, and my voice breaks as I continue screaming.
Turning on her heel away from the noise I’m making, Mom’s red, rimmed eyes stare at him. “It’s for the best, baby. They’re gonna help with your moods. Gonna make you more independent, and then you can come home. I promise, it’s not forever. You will come home.”
Ambrose’s head snaps around, lips moving to one of the doctors standing at the open doors.
A chill creeps in around them, and it runs down my spine.
The doctor, a middle-aged guy with bright orange hair that shines in the bright lights of this house, doesn’t lose his stern expression as Ambrose silently tries to communicate with him.
They can’t be trusted,he mouths quickly.
It’s the last thing I see before doctors shove his feet into his least favorite pair of sneakers, a white pair that proudly shows off every stain.
This is it, the end of us.
They pull him through the doors.
Dad’s fingers no longer clutch my arms, imprisoning me, but his back is blocking my view, and in my stupor, I don’t realize the heavy wood slams in my face until it’s too late.
