Chapter 56: Chapter Fifty-Five

For a moment, Jonah looked taken aback. I waited as he opened his mouth and closed it several time, anxious about how his reaction would be.

And then, still in a state of confusion, he said, "So what you're saying is that..." he paused to lift his eyes up from the shirt to look at me, "this whole thing has... this whole thing between us has been a lie?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. "What?"

"Is this like some kind of a game to you?" he asked, but he didn't sound accusing. He was simply wondering, trying to understand the whole situation. He looked down at the shirt again while I was trying to find my voice, and only then when he looked back up, I found hurt shining in his eyes. "Have you been playing with me?"

"What? No! No, it's not like that at all," I said in a rush and took a step closer to him, but he stepped backward. Shit.

"Then explain to me because I don't get it." The shirt had turned into a crumpled mess in his hand. He shook his head at me. His brain was probably already filled with a bunch of assumptions, and the sinking feeling in my gut told me that those assumptions were probably not good assumptions. "Do you even like me at all? What, was I just an experiment to you?"

"Experiment? Jonah, it's nothing like that at all—"

"Explain to me," he repeated, "please."

"I will if you stop interrupting me!" I whisper-yelled, frustrated at how he wouldn't let me speak and worried that my family would be listening inside the house. "I liked you. You know I've liked you for so long. I've liked you since the first day of school, just after I made a full recovery on my injuries." Jonah closed his eyes for a second as if he didn't want to hear me talk about the accident. "I still do. You were always so—so closed off, so quiet. And I just wondered why. I wanted to talk to you, get to know you."

"So you wanted to see what you could do to break the walls of that quiet boy who sits in the corner," he accused, and I took a sharp intake of breath. He hit the nail right on the head.

"It doesn't—" I sighed. "You make it sound like a bad thing," I tried weakly.

"Isn't it?" he asked. "That was what you were trying to do, wasn't it? Ridicule me, make me the joke of the year—"

"No!" I looked at him right in the eye, probably with a look that told him that he was being stupid. "I liked you! Why would I do that to make fun of you?"

"Well, I don't know, Hannah! It doesn't make any sense to me."

I took a deep breath to calm myself, but the cold air outside still got me shivering. I looked at Jonah and saw that he was shivering too, even worse than I was, so I said, "Why don't you please come inside? You're freezing."

He shook his head. "Just talk to me."

I rubbed my temples. "Okay. Okay. I'll make it short. It wasn't at all like that, Jonah. I've liked you for so long and I never knew what to do since you weren't the easiest person to approach. But I couldn't—I couldn't stop liking you even though we never talked to each other and I didn't even understand why."

He listened patiently, teeth chattering and shoulders shuddering. I quickly continued.

"I tried,—to stop liking you, to get over the crush. But I couldn't. Before I knew it, it was senior year and I still liked you as much as I did when I first saw you, and I was tired of not doing anything about it so I—" I cut myself off and shook my head. It sounded ridiculous to say out loud. I continued quietly, "It's stupid, but maybe I was desperate. I—I don't know, Jonah. I was just—trying to talk to you. Get your attention. It doesn't—it's not something malicious."

He pressed his eyelids shut and shook his head, probably trying to process it all. He was quiet for a few seconds, and I wanted to take his hand and drag him inside the house, but I wasn't sure if he was in the mood to be touched by me right now. "Why did you have to lie to me about it?" he asked once he had opened his eyes.

"I never lied to you," I answered. "That was just—that was just one thing. Everything that happened after that was out of my hands. I never—I never expected you to ever like me back." There was a look in his eyes that I couldn't read. "And then—and then this happened and I don't know what to think."

"I don't either," he murmured, but mostly to himself. To me, he asked, "And now, do you regret ever doing that? Do you regret wanting to know me and—and finding out that I was—that your accident..." he trailed off and looked away from me with a small shrug.

I answered honestly, "No, I don't." He looked at me in surprise. "But what about you? Are you mad at me about it?"

He paused. "I don't know. I'm just... confused."

I nodded. "Okay."

"I think—I think you were right before, about taking a bit of space from each other," he told me quietly, avoiding my eyes once again to look at the shirt in his hands. "To... think."

I bit my lip. "Okay," I repeated.

"I need to... figure out—" he let out a strained laugh and finally looked at me. "And I need to go home before I freeze to death."

I wordlessly nodded at him, and he stared at me for a while with this look on his face as if he was trying to solve a puzzle, and then he shook his head and lifted up the shirt.

"I should probably take this since it's, well, mine."

I nodded again.

He turned around and started to walk down the stairs of my front porch, only to stop mid-way and turned around again. "Were you ever going to tell me? About this?"

I didn't answer for a while, and then I answered honestly, "I don't know. Sometimes I don't even remember that I did that."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright."

I watched as he disappeared into the thunderstorm that had turned into a light rain, watching as he made a turn and never once looked back.

[]

Tall trees. Empty road. Light snow falling onto the ground. Everything was exactly the same.

But this time, I didn't see a car coming toward me.

It wasn't a car that I crashed into.

It was a boy with his gray eyes staring at me yards away in the middle of the road, stiff and unmoving even as my car got nearer, and the next thing I knew, he was on the ground with red all over his chest, staining the white shirt he was wearing.

And I heard the sound of my own scream.

I stuffed my fist into my mouth, feeling my teeth nearly tearing my skin apart, and my whole body shook like an earthquake. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't say anything, I couldn't stop crying.

Because as usual, the nightmare felt so real.

For a moment, I forgot where I was. I curled up into a ball on my bed, shaking from the silent, suppressed cries, and I struggled to get enough air to breathe. My chest hurt from how hard I was gasping. I couldn't erase the image of what the nightmare had left me with. I killed him, I killed him I killed him I killed him but I didn't, but it felt like I did.

What did I do, what did I do, what did I do?

I didn't realize that I was screaming into my pillow until I felt the bed underneath me shake, and I was enveloped in a tight hug.

"Hannah, breathe," I heard him say, but my lungs wouldn't cooperate. "Hey, hey look at me. You're okay. You're fine. I'm here, You're okay, I'm okay. Hey."

"I killed him," I heard myself say over and over again. I fought against his arms because I was feeling like I was trapped. "He's dead, I killed him."

He tried to keep me in his arms, but pushed him away and eventually he backed off. "No, no, Hannah, no one died. You didn't kill anyone. No one is dead."

I shook my head furiously, but then opened my eyes and saw a pair of brown eyes looking at me with what looked like sadness, fear, and panic that he was trying to hide. He kept his distance from me as if he was scared because I was a ticking bomb that was about to explode. "I didn't kill anyone?" I asked shakily.

He shook his head slowly. "No. You didn't."

My lips trembled. "Then why do I feel like I just did?"

He took a few deep breaths himself. "It's just a nightmare, Hannah."

I closed my eyes, and tears fell down my cheeks. I couldn't stop crying and shaking and every inch of my body felt like it was hurting. Especially my chest. Especially my heart. I sobbed into my hands but I looked up when I felt the bed slightly moving, and I saw that Tony was slowly getting up from my bed to walk toward the door. "Where are you going?"

He stopped and looked at me over his shoulder. He hesitated, "I'm—I'm gonna give you some space."

I shook my head. "No. Don't leave." I bit my trembling lips. "Please stay here."

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered to me and approached me. He knelt on the floor next to my bed and wiped my cheeks. "I'm here. I'm not leaving."

"I know, Tony," I replied.

"What did you dream about?" he asked softly. "Can you tell me about it?"

I opened my eyes and looked at him in the eye. "I dreamed about the accident." Something in Tony's eyes broke as I spoke. "And there was—" I shook my head furiously. "I can't talk about it. I don't want to."

"Okay, okay," he said, nodding at me. "You don't have to."

I let silence settle between us for a while, then I told him quietly, "I'm sorry."

His eyes filled with surprise. "What are you sorry for?"

I shrugged weakly. "For being like this? I don't know." I ran a hand down my face. "I'm embarrassed that you had to see me like this."

"Does this happen often?" he asked, but it was almost as if he didn't want to.

I nodded. "Yeah. It's not always this bad, though."

"Every night?"

"No." I shook my head. "Only on bad nights."

His lips slightly curled as he paused to think. "And all these dreams you have—are they always about the accident?"

"Yeah." I tried to smile. "But I'm fine."

"No one ever told me that it was this bad," he said, avoiding my eyes. "No one ever told me about these—these nightmares you have, I didn't know it was this bad, Hannah."

"Well, I don't really like talking about it."

"Oh, god, what have I done?" he whispered to himself, but I could still hear it. He kept talking to himself for a while until I reached out to touch his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Hannah. I'm so sorry. If I had known—I wouldn't have left—"

"It's okay. I'm okay, I'll deal with it. I always do," I told him. "I just get really shaken up every time. But I'll get over it."

"I never realized how much mess I'd left when I left," he told me. "God, I hate myself. I hate—"

"Stop it." He shook his head at me. "Tony, I'm fine."

"You don't look like you're fine."

"I will be."

"It was all my fault."

"Didn't we agree to stop blaming ourselves for what happened?" He closed his eyes and nodded at me. "Everyone makes mistakes. Some bigger than the others," I told him, reciting the same words I had just read earlier from Jonah's paper. "We deal with the consequences. We move on."

"Have you?" he asked me quietly. "Moved on from it all?"

I shook my head. "No. But I'm trying to." I moved to sit next to him and laid my head on his shoulder. "It's been four years, Tony. It's a long time. I should be over it by now." He faintly nodded in agreement. "Especially now that you're here."

"I'm sorry that I put you through all this."

"It's not your fault."

"It is partially my fault, though."

I forced a laugh. "Well, then it's partially mine too, and also the person who crashed into us."

Tony paused. He turned his body to me, so I had to lift up my head from his shoulder. When I saw his face, he was looking at me with a confused look on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"What? What did I say?"

"You were talking about someone who crashed into us."

I frowned. "Yeah." Jonah's face crossed my mind and I swallowed thickly. "The person whose car collided with us? I know who it is."

He looked at me square in the eye. "Hannah, what do you remember from the crash?"

I blinked. "Um—not much. I actually don't remember all that much." He waited. "But I think—I think I remember this long road, and trees, and you were sleeping. I get bits and pieces of memory from the nightmares that I have—"

"Okay, and what do you see in those nightmares?" he pressed, cutting me off.

"It's always different. But I know, I remember feeling so exhausted and I was falling asleep and then there's this—there's this bright light and—" I shook my head. "That's what I remember."

"And where do this person and this car come from?"

"Oh, gosh, do we have to talk about this?" I tried to stand up, but he pulled me back to sit down. "Okay. It's someone—it's, someone I know from school," I said after a while. He nodded at me, waiting for me to continue. "And he knows about my nightmares. He knows about the accident and—and he told me that he was actually there that night, driving that other car that was on the road in front of us."

He closed his eyes, processing my words, and nodded. "Okay. But do you actually remember crashing into a car? Do you remember the collision?"

I thought for a while, trying to remember the little pieces of what happened that night that was left in my brain. I shook my head a while later. "No... I don't actually... it was in one of my nightmares, but I'm not sure... the nightmares keep changing."

"Alright. Okay. Hannah, I want you to listen to me." He looked like he was bracing himself for something. I nodded at him. "Is that really what you believe happened that night?" I nodded again. "And this person—what's his name?"

"Jonah," I murmured.

"Right. So Jonah, your friend—that's also what he believes happened that night? That he was there and he crashed into us?"

"That's what he told me."

With a frown on his face, he turned away from me. He looked thoughtful as the room filled with silence, the knots on his forehead deepening as seconds passed by.

"Tony?"

He turned to me. "Hm?"

"What is it?"

The frown on his face was now directed at me. "Do you want to know what really happened that night, Hannah?"

There was a serious look on his face, and I felt the pace of my heartbeat quickening. "Wait—that's not what really happened?"

He slowly shook his head at me. "I don't know why you remember things differently, but that's definitely not what happened. I thought you remembered it. You were right about the long road and the trees. It was a really dark road. Empty. I almost thought you got us lost. It was just a poor lighting at night.

"I was asleep after I got into the car—after you picked me up—but I was awake when we were there. I was close to sober when I woke up, because I remember this part clearly: we never crashed into another car."

My breath hitched.

"You never fell asleep on the wheel. Never. You were wide awake scolding be because I was being an irrational asshole. We got into an argument right after I woke up. You were angry at me because I was stupid and I made your mom cry. Because I ruined family dinner. Because you were scared that you will be grounded for sneaking out. Because you were scared to drive. ] I yelled back at you because I was stupid. You did not fall asleep while driving. You lost control of the steering wheel, because I was a half-drunk asshole and I wanted you to look at me when I talked to you. You were so focused on driving—trying to drive safely, but I grabbed you so you'd look at me. And for a split second you lost control of the car, but it was enough. I did that to you. That's what happened."

My shuddering breath came out fast and the world was spinning underneath me. I felt like I was going to throw up. "I... I don't understand."

Tony continued with a thin voice, "I believe you got control of the steering wheel back, but the car was already turning to the right, so you immediately swerved sharply to the left and crashed. I think—I think you were avoiding crashing my side of the car. But it hurt you instead. You took the burnt of the impact."

"Oh, god," my voice was barely a whisper. "Is this true? Nobody ever told me... Why couldn't I remember this?"

"Yeah, I remember it clearly, Hannah. I don't know why you remembered differently. I didn't know that you remembered it differently. I thought you knew that I caused it." He swallowed painfully. "And now that you know, I'm sure you're going to hate me."

I shook my head. "I don't—no, I'm just trying to—" I stood up and started pacing back and forth. I wasn't even thinking about how it was Tony who technically caused most of the accident. I wasn't thinking about what kind of argument we had that got me losing control of the steering wheel.

All I was thinking about was Jonah.

There was this weird feeling at the bottom of my stomach when I thought about him, and I felt like I was about to throw up because of all this mixed feelings I was having. I wanted to shout at the world at the top of my lungs that Jonah never did anything wrong. I wanted the world to know how happy it was making me feel to know that he was innocent in this. Yet at the same time, I wanted to hit myself in the head with a hammer for believing that he was the bad guy.

But mostly, I was left with confusion.

If Jonah's car never crashed into ours, then why did he think otherwise? Why was he blaming himself for what happened? Why did he tell me that he was the one who caused the accident?

"I'm so confused." I sat back down next to my brother, and he was looking at me nervously. "I'm not mad at you—I don't think I am. I don't think I have the energy to be mad at anyone anymore. I've been angry for too long and I think I don't have it in me anymore I just want everything to stop. It's tiring and I'm sick of it I just don't understand."

I could tell that he was relieved that I wasn't about to lash out on him, but he still looked concerned.

"Why would Jonah tell me that he was involved in the accident when he wasn't?" I wondered out loud. "He said he was in the other car. Was there even another car?"

"There was a police report. They came to a conclusion that you crashed into a tree just a few yards away from another car. But it was presumably unharmed." He shook his head, trying to remember the details. "They knew there was another car, because of the tire tracks. And they knew someone was around to witness it because—because someone called 911."

My head began to spin, and I was starting to feel dizzy.

"I don't know if the police ever found the person who called for help, but I think your friend was the one who called 911. I couldn't have called for help myself, because I remembered how I could barely move my fingers and you were passed out. It must've been your friend, then. I never got to say thank you."

Jonah actually saved my life.

"I would like to meet him, Hannah, so I can thank him for what he did—"

Tony's voice faded out in the distance and everything suddenly turned to black as I collapsed to the floor.

[]

I was simply staring at the ceiling above me, not wanting to get up from my bed. It didn't feel like I had just passed out a few hours ago—I felt like I had just woken up from a dreamless sleep. But I did remember what happened just before I fainted.

This week was too much for me to handle.

I was never good with pressure. I was never good with having too many things piled up on my shoulders. Knowing that Jonah was innocent in the accident was lessening the weight I was carrying, but it was quickly followed with a horrible feeling of guilt and confusion.

Guilt for almost wanting to hate him.

Confusion because it didn't make any sense why he was blaming himself. Why he'd tell me that he hit our car. Why he believed that he crashed our car.

And then this thing with Tony—the ugly truth, real truth about what caused the accident—

I should be angry at my brother. Or at least feel hurt knowing what really happened.

But I was being honest when I told him that I no longer had it in me to feel mad. I think I just realized how much it exhausted me to be angry that I didn't want to feel that emotion anymore. What happened, happened. What Tony had done should probably be unforgivable, but I believed that he'd beaten himself up enough to know that he wouldn't do the same mistake twice.

I should have realized it sooner with Jonah.

And now, I didn't even know what he would want to do with me. I should talk to him, tell him what really happened, but I wasn't sure if he really wanted to talk to me after asking me to give him space. And now I could imagine how he must've felt when I'd told him to give me time to think.

I didn't like it.

I didn't know how much patience Jonah could possibly have. After days and days of pushing him away and then dropping the OBA bomb on him, would he still be willing to take me back if I asked him to?

I still liked him as much as I had when I first saw him. I still loved him just as much.

I wondered why things had to be so complicated between us when it should've been simple.

The door to my bedroom slowly opened, but instead of actual human appearing from the other side, my cat ran through the small gap and jumped right onto my bed—or at least try to. He was too small to reach the bed. I couldn't help but laugh.

I sat up and picked him up from the floor. He rubbed his cheek against my hands and I giggled as it tickled.

Tony walked in from the doorway, and closed the door behind him. "Hey."

I looked up and gave him a small smile.

"How are you feeling?"

I lightly shrugged. "I feel okay."

My phone vibrated from my bedside table, and my heartbeat started to pick up when I saw that Jonah had left me a message. "Wait a second," I told Tony, and he shrugged at me before taking my cat from my lap.

Can we meet up at the diner? Lunch time. Please.

Without a second thought, I quickly typed, I'll be there.

I put my phone down on the table and stared at it for a while. I didn't know what Jonah wanted to talk to me about—and that part kind of scared me—but it gave me an opportunity to talk to him about what happened. I would tell him today. And hopefully, everything would slowly return to normal.

Unless he was going to tell me that he was done trying and that I should go creep on some other dude. I'd deserve it.

I shook my head, took a deep breath to calm myself and turned to Tony. "So, what's up?"

"You fainted," he said simply.

"Yeah. Not my best moment," I sighed. "Guess I was just too tired and my body just wanted to shut down for a while. It was a crazy night."

He chuckled. "Yeah. Lots of drama for you."

"You have no idea."

"Hannah, are you mad at me?" he asked seriously. "Be honest. I'd understand if you do. I'd understand if you want me to kick me out for real this time."

I shook my head. He still looked unconvinced. "I'm not okay with it, but I'm not... angry. You're my brother and I've spent too long away from you. I don't want to be mad at you when I've finally got you back."

He nodded in understanding. "Well, that's relieving." He looked down and rubbed Little Ant's forehead gently. "You do know that if I could turn back time, I would change everything that I had done that night, right?"

I nodded. "I know, Tony."

"I'm sorry for everything. I mean it." He looked so forlorn, it hurt me to look at his face. "I've spent everyday wishing I could turn back time. I can never be sorry enough for what happened that night. I don't know if I could ever make up for it."

"Hey, stop it with the apologies," I said lightly. "If you keep on apologizing, I might just get sick of it."

He cracked a smile. "Okay. That was the last one. I'll keep the sorries to myself."

"Anyway, where is everyone? It's too quiet in here." I stood up and opened the door. It really was quiet. I closed it again and went back to my bed, but Tony was already sabotaging my twin-sized bed, with the little cat already snoring next to him.

"We were going to raid the mall today. By the way, it's black Friday if you didn't notice," Tony told me. "But I told them you weren't feeling well last night, so I was assigned to keep an eye on you."

"You didn't want to go?"

He scoffed. "Do I look like I want to go?" I chuckled. "But Cole's very excited to buy one of those 3D puzzles he didn't even complain about waking up at six a.m., so he went with your parents. Leann's here, though."

I frowned, something occurring to me in that instant. Something that'd been bothering me ever since he came back, but I never could figure out why. "Tony?"

He looked up and stopped stroking the kitten's back as he purred. "Hm?"

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Saying what?"

"Your parents. Your dad. Your mom," I said. "Maybe you think I don't notice it... but I do."

He gave me a silent stare.

"They're your parents, too."

"Okay." He sighed and sat up straight on the bed. And then he told me casually, "Story time. They're technically not. I'm adopted."

I didn't look amused.

"I'm not joking."

My hands fisted at my sides, I narrowed my eyes at him. I swore I was going to smack the shit out of him.

He gave me a light smile. "C'mon, Hannah, don't tell me you've never even considered that I'm adopted."

My fists loosened as my face fell, but I still crossed my arms in front of me. How much more could I take? "No. That's not true. You're my brother and that's all I know."

He reached into his jeans pocket and took out his phone, silently tapping on it for a while before gesturing for me to come closer. He showed me what was on the screen—a family of three: a dark haired man, a blonde haired woman, and a beautiful little girl who looks like she would be two or three years older than Cole.

They all looked more like him than my family ever did.

"That's my biological family," he told me softly. "I met them over the summer last year."

I spent a long time staring at the screen and shaking my head in disbelief at the same time. I pointed my finger at the girl in the middle. "And that's your real little sister?" I asked quietly.

He turned off the screen and put his phone back to his pocket. "You make it sound like you're not my real little sister."

"You're the one who's been calling Mom and Dad my parents."

"Touché." He sighed. "It's—it's complicated. It's a concept I have yet to grasp, having two different families. On one hand, when I paid my biological family a visit, I didn't feel like I belong there. They gave up on me before I could even talk. On the other hand, I also feel like the odd one out in this family—I've always felt that way."

"Was this the other reason why you left?" I asked him. "Because you just found out you were adopted?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He took a deep breath and patted the empty space next to him, so I came over and sat down. "I think I've always known from when I was younger that something wasn't right. It's something trivial, but I simply looked nothing like the rest of you." He touched the tips of his hair, and then mine. "Easiest, most obvious example: hair. You guys have pale blonde hair. Mine is way too dark. It could've been just a recessive gene, but then again, I look nothing like your parents."

I closed my eyes and rested my head on the pillow behind me. "I guess I suspected it too, once we were all a bit older. But I didn't want to believe it."

"Neither did I," he said. "I pretended that I didn't notice that I was different. I even bleached my hair so I could look a little bit more like you—" I chuckled at that. He was smiling back. "But they eventually told me what I didn't want to hear, and I got so mad because my whole life literally had been a lie."

"Oh, Tony."

"I was young, and stupid, and angry. So, so angry." He shrugged. "I started doing all these things teenagers do to rebel. You heard the arguments I had with Mom and Dad. You heard me sneaking out in the middle of the night. That night four years ago, I got them so mad because I told them I want to move out to a different state with a bunch of other kids who were probably as stupid as I was." He shook his head with a laugh. "I shouldn't have gone."

I turned my body around and hugged him, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his chest. "Am I the only one who didn't know?"

"You and Cole." He hugged me back. "I'm sorry that I never told you. I just didn't want you to look at me differently."

"You're still my brother, no matter what. This doesn't change anything."

"I'm glad you think so."

I spent the next few minutes resting my head on his chest. I wasn't lying when I told him that this didn't change anything. He was still my brother—maybe not biologically, but we already had that strong bond since we were little, and that wouldn't change. And I guess he was right, sometimes I did think about the possibility that he wasn't related to me. Maybe that was why I wasn't surprised at all by this news—because I had already known it a long time ago without realizing it.

"Tony." I pulled my head up and sat up straight. "Just stop calling mom and dad my parents. They are your parents too. Maybe not biologically, but they were the ones who raised you."

My brother smiled to me and nodded. "Of course. It's just been—ever since I meet my other family..." He shrugged. "It's been a bit confusing for me, trying to compartmentalize."

"They love you, you know they do. And I love you too."

"I know." He pressed a light kiss on my hair. "And I love you guys right back."

I looked at the clock on my bedside table and sighed. "I really need to take a shower."

He chuckled and we got out of the bed. "Yeah, you do that. I'll meet you downstairs with Leann for lunch."

"Oh—about that," I turned to him. "I'm going out for lunch. I'll be at the diner. There's someone I need to talk to."

"Isn't it closed for the day?"

I shrugged. "We have the keys anyways."

He nodded. "Okay. Do you need me to drive you there?"

"Sure, that would be awesome."

I turned around and walked toward my closet, opening it to start picking out clothes I was going to wear. When I realized that my bedroom door still remained closed a few minutes later, I frowned and turned back around, only to see that Tony was still standing in the middle of the room. "Tony? Something wrong?"

He was rubbing the side of his head when he responded with a distracted mumble.

I dropped the clothes from my hands and walked up to him. "Hey, are you okay?"

He was blinking slowly. "I'm—I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" I put my palm over his forehead. It was getting sweaty, and he looked paler than he'd been a few minutes ago. "You don't look like it."

He shook his head. "I just need to—oh, shit." He closed his eyes with a grimace, and I was starting to panic. When he spoke next, it was with a little bit of a slur. As if he was speaking with numb lips. "Hannah, I need you not to panic."

"What? What's going on?" I asked, going against his words right away. "What's wrong?"

"I need you—to—" he grimaced again as he scrambled, starting to crouch down as his hands reached for the ground, "—make sure I don't hit anything—and don't tell... anyone—"

"Tony!"

Without warning, his eyes suddenly rolled back into his head and he dropped onto the ground with a muted scream in the back of his throat, and I felt my heart dropping onto the ground once I realized what was happening.

Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic.

I was panicking.

For a while, his whole body seemed tense, and then it suddenly loosened, only to tense again, and it kept going like that for a while. Both of his hands were rounded into fists as his body kept arching forward in a jerking motion, and the look on his face made me think that he was hurting. I pushed away everything on the floor that could hurt him and unbuttoned the top of his shirt with my shaky hands.

I was panicking. I was scared. I was scared as hell.

He told me not to tell anyone else, but I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice, so I screamed out my sister's name until she came barging into the room, helplessly watching as my brother convulsed right in front of my eyes.