Long after the crowd dispersed, I remained on the floor. It took an eternity to find the strength to stand.
Jonathan crawled toward me, eyes rimmed with red. He opened his mouth to recite his usual pitiful lines, but the sight of my dead, gray gaze silenced him.
The next day, the doctor arrived to take Jonathan abroad for his "treatment."
Before getting into the car, he turned back with every step. "Hazel, wait for me. When I come back, I swear I'll make you the most dazzling princess of the James family again. No one will ever bully you again."
I smiled, saying nothing.
As the car disappeared into the distance, I covered my mouth. I couldn't hold it back any longer. Warm, metallic liquid filled my throat.
I coughed up blood.
The doctor had warned me. When the tumor ruptured, it would be the end.
Strange, though.
As I collapsed, hitting the floor, fear didn't grip me. A peculiar calm settled in instead.
My fading consciousness didn't dwell on the pain. It drifted back to the brother he used to be—gentle hands braiding my hair, candy he'd sneak me, the cool washcloth on my forehead during fevered nights when he refused to leave my bedside.