"Fuck!" I scream and pass a fist through my bedroom drywall, loosening the cap on all the frustration I've been bottling up inside. That one blow does the opposite of what it was supposed to and only creates more frustration. I let out another loud groan under my breath as I stared at the hole I'd just made. My parents are going to kill me.
Staring intently, I place my fingers through the opening in the drywall and can't help but relate to it. Everything around this hole, on this wall, is neat, in place as it should be, and well put together. Yet, behind the wall, behind the hole, is a void. Displaced and empty. It's a lot like I'm feeling right now.
I scoff at myself; I can't believe I'm comparing myself to a damn hole I've just punched through my wall.
"Bro, you good?" Jett's voice is low. He looks confused and worried as he walks into my room and looks me and my stupid hole over.
I look back at him and debate my options. I sit on my bed and lean my elbows on my knees. I sink my head into my hands and close my eyes shut to keep the tears in that threaten to fall.
He clears his throat and then makes his way over to me. Sitting beside me, he wraps his arm around my back, patting it hard. We are a lot alike in this sense. Neither of us knows how to react when we see each other falling apart. We are so used to our emotional displays of affection strictly roasting each other that when that isn't appropriate, we aren't sure how to approach the situation.
Deciding to spare him the agony, I say, "I'm good". I'm unsure if I sound convincing, but my guess is not a bit.
"The hell you are," he shoves me, "fucking talk to me."
I shake my head as I lift my head from my hands. "There's nothing to say. She hates me. She won't talk to me. I've tried and got not a single thing back."
He sighs. We sit there in silence for a while. Before I know it, he's on his phone, and I can hear the ringing.
"Jett, what the hell are you doing?" I demand. I know he means well, but I don't need my brother fighting my battles for me.
He shakes his head and pushes my hand away before he speaks, "Izzy,"
Izzy. He called Izzy, not Via. Why the hell didn't I think of that? The giant ass hat isn't as dumb as he looks, after all.
"Hey, how is she?" Jett asks Izzy, keeping his voice low.
"Put it on speaker, please," I beg, whispering in his ear.
As he does, I can instantly hear that Izzy is whispering. She probably doesn't want Via to listen to her.
"She's trying. She's tough, but she's trying to be too tough. At first, I thought it just hadn't hit her yet, that she was in shock or something. I never handled something like this, so I'm not sure how you're supposed to deal with this, but she's just not right.She stays locked up in her room most of the time, but when she's forced to socialize, it's like she's not even in there. I don't know how to explain it.
"I went to her parent's house yesterday to start clearing things out and grabbing things I knew she would want before Liam could get his hands on them. She refused to come with me. Then, she wanted nothing to do with the stuff I brought back. She wouldn't even look at any of it. Honestly, I'm really worried."
The pain lurches at my chest and a lump forms in my throat. I hate that she's hurting, and she won't let me be there to comfort her through this. We always get through everything together. I can't fix this for her, but I sure as hell could love her through it.
"She's shut down, Izzy. She's forcing herself to be numb to keep from hurting. This is how she handled her pain when we were kids." I say, holding back my sadness that is turning into frustration by the second.
There's a long pause after she hears me speak.
"Ander," Her voice is low, and there's dread in her tone.
"Let me talk to her,"
"I.. Can't."
"What do you mean 'you can't?" I growl into the receiver, and Jett places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it, signaling me to calm down. I've been known to have a short-fused temper, but I try to keep it controlled for the most part. Jett can see me losing that control; I can tell by the look on his face.
"She doesn't want to talk to you," she says, laced with sadness and regret.
Ouch.
"Izzy," I growl out her name, trying to calm my growing frustration. "I've given her space. All the space she's asked for. Now, we need to talk." I take a deep breath. "She needs me, Iz. You know that better than anyone. Hell, I need her just as much.I need to be there for her. I need to, Izzy. I'm desperate here. Please."
Silence. Izzy says nothing. She's quiet for way too long, and then, finally, she lets out a sigh.
"I'll try. First, Ander—"
