Chapter 2 - Bad Dream

Those first few moments after waking up are pure comfort.

For a few seconds, my constantly preoccupied brain with its rapidly turning wheels, is blissfully unaware of anything bad or upsetting – or really, anything at all. It feels like I am floating on a soft cloud, somewhere unimportant. Nowhere specific. It doesn't even matter, as long as it is anywhere but reality.

Unfortunately, this state of complete, blessed ignorance is very short-lived.

A few seconds after I wake up, it is so quickly replaced by a wave of unpleasant thoughts and memories that I almost get whiplash. Without warning, everything that happened when I was last aware of my surroundings washes over me like a tidal wave, brutally chasing away the last bits of cozy comfort that I was enjoying.

Sam had a biking accident!

I blink rapidly as this painful thought invades my mind and simultaneously rams a stake right through my heart. Gasping, I curl up in a tight ball, trying and miserably failing to get rid of the physical pain this one memory causes.

But my brain ignores any of my futile attempts to make it stop repeatedly playing these haunting images of Sam falling over on his bike, disappearing right in front of my eyes into nothingness. Over and over again, my inner eye is forced to witness how he tumbles and falls over the edge. How that ocean blue shirted man just appears out of nowhere, viciously attacking my unsuspecting brother.

My throat constricts and the pain in my heart grows with every unwanted repeat of these horrible events. Squeezing my eyes shut, I take deep, labored breaths, willing – pleading – my exhausted brain to move onto more neutral territory.

Luke and Sean are here.

I almost let out a relieved yelp when it finally works and I remember this unexpected but exciting turn of events. Almost, because no sound manages to make its way past that meanwhile familiar lump which seems permanently lodged in the back of my throat.

Normally, knowing that my two mostly absent brothers are here would make me feel joyful and happy, giddy even. But now, with that dreadful uncertainty looming over my head, clouding my brain, all it does is make me feel a tiny bit less panicked than I would be otherwise.

They are going to tell Alex!

Just when I think that it isn't possible to feel any worse, this paralyzing thought pushes itself to the forefront of my mind. It has the questionable power to instantly cut off my airways, leaving me gasping for air like a fish out of water. My hands automatically fly to my throat as I shoot up from my lying down position, frantically clawing at said body part. Inhuman sounds escape my lips as black dots start to dance in front of my eyes.

I instinctively kick my legs out and pound my feet onto the semi-soft surface beneath me – where even am I? – forcing my lungs to remember their intended purpose and allow some oxygen to enter my body before I pass out. Or die.

Sam's dead.

This realization hits me with such force that I think it shocks my body right back into business. I cough as a big gulp of air finds its way in through my nostrils and mouth, completely overwhelming me because I didn't think I'd be able to take a proper breath anytime soon. My head spins from the sudden influx of oxygen and I let myself fall back onto what I have now identified as my bed at the cabin.

Has Sam really died?

As I slowly start to gain back control over my overly active brain, I am able to form more coherent thoughts. My breathing is still a bit off, but I can feel how it gradually becomes less ragged. Having fallen away from my throat when I laid back down, my hands are now placed on either side of me. Like lifelines, grounding me, my fingers curl into the linens which are a bit rough from having been washed hundreds of times over the years. I start to relax as I continue to take deep, soothing breaths.

Maybe this all was just a nightmare?

Yeah, that must be it. That is the only logical explanation. It did feel like an incredibly real nightmare though.

I don't have a lot of experience with that kind of stuff, so I could be wrong. I am one of those lucky people who are hardly ever plagued by bad dreams. Sleep has always been a wonderfully revitalizing thing for me, and my irregular dreams usually feature chocolates, and laughter and happy stuff. Therefore, it is hard for me to imagine what it feels like if you have a very vividly bad one.

If this was a proper nightmare – which I start to believe more and more, the longer I think about it – then Sean and Luke being here has probably, sadly, also been a product of my imagination. That realization leaves me a bit deflated. But in comparison to what it would mean if this turned out to be real and they are actually here, I'd take them not spending their vacation with me any day over having something terrible happen to Sam. Or anyone else, of course.

Was Sam successful in his race?

I rack my brain but cannot come up with a useful answer to that question. There is only one good explanation for this though. The race must be today and because it hasn't happened yet, I obviously don't know the results yet, either.

Duh.

A chuckle escapes my lips at my being so scatter-brained. This nightmare has really messed with my head, it seems. I'd rather not have to experience one of these anytime soon again. It is highly unpleasant and the most confusing thing is that there is still this lingering uneasiness at the back of my mind, combined with a barely there but still noticeable, repetitive pain in my heart.

Is it normal for bad dreams to have such a physical impact on people?

Blindly reaching out towards the right, I try to find my phone to check the time. It is light outside, meaning it must be morning already. It feels like forever when I went to bed last night and I hope I didn't oversleep. But the chances for that to happen are very slim. Sam would have made sure to get me up on time because there is no way he is ever going to leave at the last minute before an important race. We'll probably arrive on the mountain with at least half an hour to spare.

That is where he and Ben are clearly brothers. Both are sticklers for arriving early rather than late pretty much on any occasion. Actually, they share that trait with Alex, too.

A wave of nausea rolls over me at the thought of my oldest brother, confusing me.

Why would I feel sick thinking of Alex?

As puzzling as this is, it gets replaced by something else before I can dwell on it any further. Because what confuses me even more is that I don't find my phone on the bedside table.

I turn slightly onto my side to get a good look at the place where it should be, but there is nothing other than a glass of water. I am one hundred percent certain that I brought my phone with me last night when I went to bed. Not to mention that I have no recollection of bringing a drink with me, either.

Did Sam come in at night and collect it?

He has tried to act all responsible guardian like and enforce the house rule that I have to leave my phone in the kitchen during bedtime. But I successfully managed to convince him that this rule does not apply when we are on vacation. Also, I told him that nobody would have to know, anyway, so he should just chill and stop being so boring.

Not surprisingly, this only appeased him partially. However, when I promised to watch some Netflix in my own room if he lets me keep the phone, allowing him to spend a romantic evening – I almost gagged when these words came over my lips – with his very-soon-to-be wife, he eventually gave in. I guess it helped that Hannah clung onto his bicep and batted her eyelashes at him in a very over-exaggerated way. One that didn't really fit her personality at all. But it worked, and that is all that matters.

My brother is so whipped.

But that doesn't explain where my phone went. I really wonder what time it is. Sam said we would have to leave at 9am at the very latest, because the first part of the duathlon, which is running for 10 miles, starts at 10:45 sharp. Apparently, it'll take us at least 45 minutes to get there and then he will have to sign in, do some warming up stuff and, I guess, mentally prepare himself. Like one does who willingly takes part in such a strenuous activity.

My brother is a certified fitness-freak weirdo.

I strain my hearing, but here is no sound coming from anywhere within the cabin. I cannot imagine that Sam is still asleep though. He is always up at the break of dawn, even on a normal day, when we are at home. It's part of his routine. So there is simply no way he will not do that on a race day.

Maybe I should get up and see if he and Hannah overslept. That would be really bad, but also kind of funny. I could snap a pic of them and then send it with a timestamp to the rest of our family. He would never hear the end of it, if Mr. Never-A-Minute-Late had to rush to make it in time for the race. Or even better: if he missed the start of the race.

Determined, I jump out of bed, only to crash right back down onto it when my head starts buzzing like crazy the moment I am upright. The room oddly tilts back and forth, like I am on a boat. Bile rises in my throat and I have to concentrate really hard to keep it down. Then fear washes over me, accompanied by that awful feeling again that something is very wrong. I felt this before, just when I woke up and my brain decided to replay all too vividly the various scenes that were in the nightmare I had.

Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and slowly give it another go getting back on my feet. My knees feel like jelly, but at least they hold me up. I glance down at the thin knee brace that is wrapped around my previously injured limb, supporting it as it has been for the past few months, ever since the big, ugly brace came off. Sam insists that I keep wearing it until further notice. Meaning, until he gives me the go ahead to take it off and shove it into the very back of my closet. Or burn it.

Involuntarily, a small smile graces my lips at the sight of the dark purple fabric. Sam has made sure to give me a few different ones, covering a variety of colors. He said that he gets a discount on that kind of stuff, due to his job. And since it is now summer and I am wearing shorts most days, it means that the brace is on full display most of the time. I honestly don't mind very much, but it is still sweet of him to be so considerate and make it less annoying by adding a "fashionable touch" to the situation, as Hannah claimed.

Then something else occurs to me and it makes my blood freeze.

I am not wearing my pajamas. I am wearing a t-shirt and shorts instead.

I am wearing the clothes I put on in the morning before Sam's race.

My breathing instantly gets labored again and these annoying black dots are making a reappearance.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and try to sort through my tumbling thoughts. They are attacking my brain at lightning speed and it makes me feel nauseous.

What is happening to me?

Once again successfully forcing down the vomit that is threatening to get past the Texas-sized lump in my throat, I mentally yell at myself to get a grip. Being weak and succumbing to that very prominent pull to crawl back into bed and hide from the world – from reality – underneath the comfort of my blanket is not the solution. I have to stay focused to figure out what is real and what is just my mind playing mean games with me.

Maybe this is a nightmare within a nightmare?

My brain starts to hurt by just thinking like this.

The only way to find out what is going on is if you to leave this room.

I agree with the little voice in my head, so I square my shoulders with determination and give myself a little mental pep-talk.

You can do this, Lily.

Somebody is out there and they are going to clear it all up for you.

You'll find Sam and Hannah in the kitchen and they'll laugh with you at this.

Since my brothers would never let me stay home alone, it is a no-brainer that I will bump into another person once I finally leave the safety of my bedroom. And while the bed and the comforting blanket are still calling out for me, I successfully manage to ignore them and quickly make my way out of the room before they gain the upper hand.

Once I am in the hallway, I stand still for a moment and just listen.

There is no sound, almost like I am in a vacuum or something.

Maybe this is proof that I am still caught up in a dream?

I take a few cautious steps forward, my feet instinctively carrying me towards the living room. I hold my breath as I turn the corner, not sure what I am expecting to find.

The vast space is empty.

Empty of people, that is. Nobody is in there. No sign of life, anywhere.

I move to the middle of the living area and stop again. My eyes fall onto a discarded towel and a pair of biking gloves laying haphazardly on the couch. A crumpled up functional t-shirt lays in the middle of the floor.

I smile at the sight of it as I remember Sam coming home yesterday evening, pulling the shirt off his body and flinging it across the room, almost hitting me in the head with the gross, stinky item. I was sitting on the floor, working on a jigsaw puzzle that Hannah got me hooked on. I think he deliberately threw it at me, although he denied this when I accused him of being a bully.

I got ready to pounce on him to get him back for being rude, but he just wordlessly flexed his arm muscles and annoyingly let his pecs dance, raising a challenging eyebrow at me. Like he was daring me to make a move, which I would clearly regret. It was a good thing that I remembered in time that he was all sweaty from his workout, which is a sure way to completely gross me out. So, I decided to let it go – for my own sake, rather than his.

Eyeing the offensive item now, I roll my eyes before I kick it out of the way with my foot.

My brother is such a slob.

Just like the rest of them. Me included, to be honest. None of us is any good at picking up after themselves and our bedrooms are living proof of that. Even Alex is terrible at keeping his stuff in order, which kind of completely goes against the rest of his personality.

Hannah sure has her work cut out if she wants to turn Sam into an orderly human being. I wonder how she keeps their apartment as clean as it is, now that he is living with her. She must be cleaning up after him all the time.

Suddenly, my ears pick up a distant sound.

Is that somebody playing the guitar?

I hold my breath, trying to figure out where the soft music is coming from. As I strain my hearing, I slowly move in the direction of the dining room and kitchen. The sound is too indistinct to be coming from anywhere inside the house. But there is a patio right beside the kitchen and something tells me that I might find the source of music out there.

There really is only one explanation for this.

Luke is here.

While that thought alone should make me happy, it has the opposite effect on me as soon as I process it properly. If Luke is really here, it means that my nightmare maybe wasn't a nightmare, after all, but harsh reality. Because if this were a nightmare and I were still right in the middle of it, it must be the most epic bad dream anyone has ever had. There is just no way.

With a heavy heart, I force myself to continue on my way, although half of my body is screaming for me to turn around. Anything to avoid the truth. But the sound of the soft guitar notes is as enthralling as it is scary. Also, I am desperate for company, for someone to talk to me and tell me what is really going on.

For someone to face reality with me.

It takes me longer than it should to cover the few yards to where I need to go. That is because each one of my steps is so hesitant that I have to deliberately force my feet to move forward.

The first thing I notice when I come into the dining area is that the double patio doors are wide open. The sun is shining right into the room, painting it in a soft, yellow light. This means that it must be early evening already.

The sun sets on this side of the cabin and we have spent many an evening over the years watching it set behind the big pine trees in our backyard. It is like magic when the golden light filters through the branches, letting the dust particles and tiny insects dance in the rays of fading sunlight. On nice summer evenings, this is one of the most beautiful and relaxing sights – it is one of my favorite times of the day up here in the mountains.

Tonight, however, all it does is fill me with an incredible sadness.

It is like another piece of the puzzle that falls into place and proves that this supposed nightmare is anything but a bad dream. All these daunting thoughts and memories are real. That horrible accident really happened.

And my brother is most likely dead.

I swallow hard – that is all I seem to be doing lately – and cautiously walk up to the patio doors. The guitar playing is now a lot more audible. I don't see Luke yet, but I know that it must be him. For one, none of my other brothers are good enough musicians to play like this. Also, I believe only Josh owns a guitar. It is kind of a remnant from a phase he had a few years ago, when I was still little. It is currently collecting dust in his garage, as far as I know.

Carefully stepping across the threshold, I look to the left where I find my brother.

Luke is sitting at the end of the wooden deck, his feet dangling over the edge with his back turned towards me and the cabin. On his lap, he holds the one thing that I know gives him all the comfort in the world. He once tried to explain to me what his guitar means to him. It was quite poetic, I remember, and I was very impressed by how easily he can put his feelings into beautiful words.

I reckon it is a good skill to have, if you write songs for a living.

My brother is still playing, but the melody has changed since I came outside. It is a similarly quiet tune, with no lyrics, but this one sounds even more melancholic than the one he played before. I may not be an expert in music and I have no fixed genre that I am passionate about, but I have been around music all my life, thanks to a bunch of brothers who are rather obsessed with it – the one in front of me in particular. So, I believe I am able to guess what message these artists might be trying to convey as they express their emotions through music.

There is a heaviness in the air that wraps itself around my already bruised heart and brings tears to my eyes. I immediately try to force any negative emotions down because I am not ready nor willing to accept that Sam is really gone.

If there is even a tiny sliver of hope, I vow to hold on to it until there is no more.

I sneak closer, my legs now shaky and my speed even slower than before. My eyes are fixated on the back of my brother's messy brown hair. For that reason, I don't pay much attention to where I am going and my bare toes painfully connect with an item lying in my way. It doesn't turn into a disaster and nothing falls onto me or breaks, as it normally would when my clumsy self comes out. But it is enough to make Luke stop playing.

I hold my breath, feeling like an intruder. For a brief moment, I consider running back into the house. I don't think I am ready for this confrontation, and something tells me he isn't, either. But I don't act on instinct and remain frozen in my spot, staring at Luke's previously hunched over form that is now suddenly straightening up, like he were a puppet and somebody pulled him up by his strings.

"Lily? Is that you?" Luke's voice is hoarse and slightly shaky.

Has he been crying?

I don't feel like answering him. I probably couldn't even if I tried, since that annoying lump is still residing firmly inside my throat. Instead, I cover the last few yards and hesitantly lower myself onto the wooden ledge next to him. I deliberately leave a considerable gap, uncertain if he thinks I would be invading his personal space if I sat too closely.

A few uneasy, desperation-filled minutes pass. We both just sit there, staring out into the woods, never even looking at each other. My eyes take in the beauty of the early evening, but my heart doesn't seem to be able to absorb it. It feels heavy and painful, like there is an iron fist wrapped tightly around it, ready to squeeze the life out of it – out of me – at any second.

None of us moves. It feels awkward and weirdly comforting at the same time. I never felt anything like it before and I don't know whether to freak out or embrace it. Part of me is happy that I am no longer alone. But the other part is incredibly sad because this means that I have not been imagining all those bad things. They are true, if Luke is here.

"Hey, honey," he eventually breaks the silence.

I want to greet him back, but all I can do is hum in response. Words are once again failing me.

"How are you feeling?" my brother continues.

Why don't you dive right in with a question that is impossible to answer?

Luke sounds cautious but also genuinely concerned, making me wonder how to reply. I don't want to be responsible for hurting him even more than he already must be, judging by the slight break in his voice when he asked me that.

Before I can stop it, a sob escape my lips. When Luke's head whips around and I see his face for the first time since, I wish I had better control over my emotions. He looks devastated. There is no other word for it.

I wonder what happened after Sean and I met him on the mountain. All I remember is that I felt this really weird sensation and then I blacked out only to wake up here at the cabin. I haven't taken the time yet to think about this. That is when I realize that, since this seems to be no nightmare, there is a considerable gap in my memory.

How did I even get back to the cabin?

Where is Sean?

How long have I been asleep?

And where is Hannah?

I obviously also want to know where Sam is and what happened to him, but I won't allow my brain to go there just yet. My head is already spinning because of all these other thoughts flooding my mind. All I want to do is squeeze my eyes shut to block them out.

But I cannot look away from Luke's face, no matter how hard I try, now that I have finally made eye contact with him. The sight of his pale cheeks and red-rimmed eyes stabs me right in the heart. I don't think I have ever seen anyone look as sad as he does right now. Luke doesn't even try to hide it, either.

"Lily? Say something. Please," he begs me quietly.

So quietly that I almost don't hear him over the deafening sound of my erratically beating heart.

I continue to just look at him wordlessly, completely unsure of what to do next. I watch my brother sigh and put his guitar aside. Then he slides closer to me. I consider moving away, not sure if I can deal with a hug right now. But I am not fast enough.

Thankfully, Luke seems to read my mind, because all he does it reach out his hand and gently cup my face. His fingers are ice cold, making me flinch at the touch. I wonder how he managed to play the guitar with icicle-like fingers.

"Lily. I... I know this is all very over-... umm... overwhelming. But please speak to me, honey. Just give me a tiny sign so that I know you're in there and that you hear me. Okay?" he pleads with me.

Luke has lowered his head a bit and is now looking right back at me, matching my stare. His light blue eyes are full of sorrow and pain and it is incredibly hard for me to continue to hold his gaze.

I don't want to see my brother so heart-broken!

The last time anyone looked at me like this was when I spoke to Josh on New Year's Eve, when we were out here at the cabin, too, and in the snow. When he told me about Sienna and how they were best friends. That is when I got a glimpse into how much the loss of a person can hurt the person who is left behind. It wasn't a pretty sight and I would have never in a million years thought that I'd be confronted with something similar so soon again. Another sob escapes me at that memory.

How did they do it back then, when Sienna died?

How can they possibly do it again?

How do you move on from such heart-break?

"Lily, I'm begging you, please talk to me. You're scaring me."

My brother is still trying to get a reaction out of me, but it feels impossible for me to pull myself out of the absolute chaos that is my mind. It feels like concentrating on what is going on around me is the hardest task I have ever faced. Of course, I don't want to scare him or anyone else. And I certainly don't want them to have to worry about me, on top of everything else. But I don't know how not to.

I always tell myself that I need to become stronger, more resilient. To grow up and stop being a baby and stop making other people – namely my siblings – think of me as just that. I want to be like my brothers, those superhero-like creatures that I have looked up to all my life. There were times when I even started to believe that I am getting there, slowly. But now, when it really matters that I put on my big girl pants, I seem to be back to square one.

I am just a spineless, weepy kid, whose tumultuous emotions always seem to gain the upper hand.

"L-Luke," I eventually manage to press out, desperately trying to get a grip and show him that I am not a completely lost cause.

"Yes, Lily. Yes! I'm here, honey," he immediately rushes out to assure me, the ghost of a smile appearing on his ashen face. "I'm here. Thank god you're talking. You had me worried there for a second."

My brother looks very relieved and a tiny weight is lifted off my heavy heart at that realization. I did something right and got him to relax, if only temporarily. The last thing I want is to burden him with anything else other than the obvious, and I might just have done that with this simple one word reply that cost me so much effort.

But what even is the "obvious"?

I remind myself that I still have no confirmation that what I am so worried about is even real or did truly happen. It could still all be a misunderstanding. Sam might be in the hospital where they are fixing him up as we speak. I just need to keep believing this.

You hold onto this thought until there is no more hope, Lily.

"S-Sam... I-... is..." I struggle to form a sentence.

I interrupt myself when I am unable to put my biggest fear into words. So much for being strong.

"Honey, I am so sorry...," Luke starts, but his voice breaks, too, so he stops.

Why is he even apologizing to me?

He didn't do anything. This, whatever it is, is not his fault. None of it is. If it is anyone's fault, then it's mine. Because I saw the stranger and didn't do anything about it. I didn't react in time and I didn't stop him or his crazy friend from doing what they did to Sam.

Oh my god!

If Luke is apologizing, it must mean that Sam is...

"He's okay, right?" I whisper, putting all the remaining hope into that one short question.

My brother presses his lips together and just looks at me for a few seconds. His eyes become suspiciously glossy, making the iron fist around my heart tighten even more. I cannot tell if he is reluctant to tell me the truth or if there is something else. Eventually, he just shakes his head no before lowering his gaze to avoid my eyes.

"What does that mean?" I whisper, desperate for answers.

When Luke continues to look anywhere but at me, it becomes difficult to hold onto that tiny bit of hope that had still been cruising through my veins.

"Luke? Please, tell me," I encourage him, my voice almost breaking.

I reach out and lightly bump my fist against his shoulder. Usually, that is a sure way to get a reaction out of any of my brothers. Most of the time to mock me and tell me that I should stop tickling them. They know that it gets a raise out of me if they tease me about my apparent lack of strength. But this time, I had no intention of hurting Luke, so I went easy. All I want is to get his attention.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he suddenly exclaims.

His unexpected outburst makes me flinch and I watch wide-eyed how Luke throws his hands in the air before putting them on either side of his head with his elbows sticking out. He kneads his hands into his already unruly hair as if massaging his scalp before he lets out an exasperated groan and throws himself backwards. A semi-loud thud is heard when his back and head connect with the wooden deck.

Luke's chest rises and falls at quick intervals as he breathes heavily while he pulls his hands down and repeatedly rubs them over his face. The desperation that oozes from him is palpable and the feeling of dread that fills me at the sight of him almost suffocates me.

For a while, we just sit there – or lay there, in Luke's case – unmoving. I stare unblinkingly at his immobile figure while he seems to be staring into his hands that are still covering the top half of his face. It is like the both of us are in some kind of weird trance.

Maybe it is a nightmare, after all?

I am violently shaken out of my daze when I notice tiny dark spots showing up on the wood beside, almost underneath, my brother's head. The patch steadily grows larger and it takes me a few moments before I realize what it is. My eyes travel to the side of his face and that is where I detect the source of the dark spots.

Luke is crying.

A small but steady river of tears is running over the side of his face, travelling along the top of his prominent cheekbones where gravity then forces them to disappear for a bit before they end up dripping down and staining the ground.

An incredible sadness washes over me at the sight of my distressed big brother. The one who is normally always upbeat, with a winning smile on his face and a funny remark on his lips.

"Luke?" I ask carefully.

My voice is raspy, as if I had been talking all day. But at least I can get words out again without too much of a struggle. He ignores me.

"Hey, Luke?"

I shuffle a bit closer to him until I am sitting right next to his prone body. Leaning my weight on my left arm, I put my right hand on his stomach and pat it gently. I feel him tense at my touch but then he relaxes a bit. His breathing is not as erratic as it was when he first lay down but it is still a bit irregular. The way it is when you are crying, as I know very well since I have become quite a pro at dealing with that emotion lately.

The sensation of Luke's stomach moving up and down under my hand is strangely calming.

He still doesn't seem inclined to acknowledge me, so I shuffle around some more and position my body so that I can lie down next to him. I ignore the wooden boards uncomfortably digging into my left hip bone and place my head right next to my hand on his chest. He doesn't push me away, so I take that as his permission for me to cuddle up to him.

After a few seconds, my senses pick up his heartbeat, even if I am lying on his right side and my head is not positioned near his heart. It must be beating quite heavily, I conclude. There is no question that Luke is anxious about this situation and I cannot blame him.

Panic and anxiety and desperation and helplessness continue to surge through my body at incredible speed, getting mixed up with sadness every now and then. And that is only a small part of all the various emotions cruising through me. Normally, when I am feeling so confused and upset, I expect my big brothers to be strong for me instead, to be the rocks for me, to ground me and to protect me. That is how I grew up and that is what I have relied on for almost thirteen years of my life.

Right now, the one brother who is here is anything but stable or strong. But instead of scaring me even more, there is this strange sense of equality that wraps itself around me. We are both suffering and overwhelmed by a myriad of emotions. Both of us need the other's presence and compassion.

We are in this together.

I am still working up the courage to address him again when I suddenly feel a hand on my head. Luke's fingers steadily work themselves into my rat's nest of hair and the soothing effect is instant. I close my eyes for a moment and bury my face in his t-shirt that is surprisingly warm from the sun that is shining right onto us. I inhale his scent and it adds to that relaxing feeling.

"Sam died, Lily. He didn't survive the accident, that terrible fall," Luke whispers.

I already guessed as much, from all the clues that my mind has been trying to feed me ever since I woke up. Also, although my memory is hazy at best from before I must have blacked out in the presence of Sean and Luke, it keeps pushing bits and pieces of conversation and random images to the surface.

"I know," I reply, just as quietly.

Saying this out loud, I cannot stop the tears from shooting into my eyes. Part of me wants to scream and shout and throw punches as this new reality slowly starts to settle in my mind. But the other part feels numb and almost paralyzed, making it impossible to react with anything other than silent tears.

"You do, huh? So why did you...", Luke starts, but stops himself.

I know instinctively what he wanted to ask me, making my bad conscience reappear.

"I was hoping that all it was... that it was just a bad dream," I explain to him.

"Oh, honey."

This short, compassionate statement is quickly followed by his arm wrapping itself around me, squeezing me tightly against his body. His other hand remains in my hair, but it stops moving.

"Where is he?" I ask the one question that has been bugging me ever since I figured out that all was not okay with Sam.

Luke takes a deep breath, causing my head and part of my upper body that is lying on top of him to move up and down. Any other time, this would have made me giggle. But laughing and silliness is the last thing on my mind right now. I use up all my energy to keep myself from dissolving into a sobbing mess.

"At the local hospital," he eventually says.

A memory flashes inside my mind.

The rotor blades.

"That helicopter we heard, did it... did they get him?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. – Was he... did they... how..."

I cannot bring myself to ask what I want to know, but this time, Luke seems to read my mind.

"He was already dead when they got to him."

At the end of that sentence, my brother's voice breaks. A sob escapes my lips. My over-imaginative mind conjures up all sorts of horrible pictures. Although I have not seen Sam after the accident, the mere thought of what happened to him after he fell down the mountain side is making me want to throw up.

"Shh, Lily, breathe," Luke's voice penetrates my horrible thoughts.

I gasp, feeling like I just got pulled out of the water after I accidentally stayed down for too long. Luke's hand rubs circles on my back and it has the desired, calming effect. This always works with me and I am relieved to find that it also does in situations like these.

"Where is Sean? And where's Hannah? Oh god..."

The thought of my almost sister-in-law shatters my already broken heart into a million of pieces.

She must be so devastated!

How will she ever recover from this shock?

"Sean's at the hospital with her. They had to sedate her once it was confirmed that Sam... well, that he hadn't survived the accident. Sean tried to calm her down but he was quite beside himself, too, not surprisingly, so it didn't really work. They decided to give her something and it knocked her out. He wanted to go with her to the hospital so that she won't be alone when she wakes up," Luke explains to me.

"He was really struggling to make that decision," he continues when I remain silent. "Sean didn't want to be away from you. He wanted to be there when you woke up, too, but I assured him that I got it under control. – Not so much, as you just saw."

Poor Sean and Luke!

It must have been so terrible for them to have to deal with me and her on top of everything. They must have been in shock themselves, but still they did everything to look out for us.

"I am glad you're here with me, Luke," I tell him sincerely.

That last thing I want is for him to feel bad for breaking down and showing me his true emotions. He is only a human being, too, not a superhero. Even if that is what I tend to think of when it comes to my brothers. Not all of them, of course, but they are the ones I generally look up to and go to for help or advice. Luke included.

"Thank you, Lily, I'm glad. Sorry if I made it all worse by reacting so overwhelmed."

"It's okay to be sad, Luke. I am very sad, too."

This may be the understatement of the year, but my mind cannot find a better description than this.

Sadness.

That is the most prominent, all-encompassing emotion that I am experiencing right now.

"Oh Lily, I am so, so sorry," Luke mutters.

Again, he is apologizing, which makes no sense to me.

"You didn't do anything. It's not your fault," I tell him.

"I know. But I still feel so guilty. This should have never happened. We never wanted you to experience this kind of life-changing situation. Nobody should."

"Yeah." Guilt is literally eating me up alive as I say that. "But it's even more unfair to you."

I wish I could stop thinking of the stranger and what I could have done to possibly keep this from happening. If only I could suppress any memories of that creep and his murderous friend in the ocean-blue t-shirt.

"What do you mean?" Luke wants to know, bringing me back to the presence.

"You guys, you... you already lost a sibling, with Sienna. How is it fair that you have to go through something like that again?" I voice my thoughts out loud. "And your mom. Another loss. It feels like this family is cursed, or something."

"Or something," Luke repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

Instantly, this sets off my spidey senses.

What does that mean?

Was he simply acknowledging my statement, or is there more to it?

Again, images of the stranger flash through my mind.

I start to wonder if his randomly showing up is pure coincidence. And if he picked me by accident or if there is more to it. My oldest brothers' strong reactions to when I first encountered him – not to mention after he showed up again at the gas station – should be proof enough that these were no chance encounters.

A shiver runs down my spine at that realization.

Did somebody specifically target Sam?

Do they want to hurt my family on purpose?

Why?

"Lily?" Luke's voice interrupts my frantic thoughts.

"Hmm?" I barely acknowledge him.

"I said that Alex and Jordan are on their way here."

"What? Why?"

At this information, I immediately shoot up into a sitting position. Although the thought of having my two strongest, most reliable brothers – my actual, real-life superheroes – here with me in desperate times like these, I simultaneously don't want them to be part of any of this. I know it is dumb, but I would do anything to keep them from having to go through this.

"You're not seriously asking me this, right?" he replies, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at me with a single raised eyebrow.

It doesn't look as cynical as it normally would, because Luke is still sickly pale and his eyes are swollen from crying earlier. My heart goes out to him and I wish he didn't have to deal with me right now. But he is the only one here and therefore the only one who can give me answers.

"Why did you tell Alex?" I ask stupidly.

"Lily." Luke sounds truly exasperated as he says that single word.

"Couldn't you just, I don't know... not tell him yet?" I whine.

"No, we couldn't and I don't think I have to explain to you why. Please, don't make this any harder for both of us than it has to be. Alex had to be informed. And now he's on the way. He didn't want you to talk to the police without him there," my brother explains.

Police?

Why do I need to speak to them?

"Right before you passed out, you told us that you had seen that so-called stranger, remember? Then you fainted and we tried everything to get you to wake up so you could tell us what you saw. But nothing worked. Sean told the police, who had arrived by then, that you may have witnessed some foul-play, and he tried to put some of the puzzle pieces together, but it didn't help much. The police wanted you to be taken to the hospital so that the doctors could wake you up, but Sean refused. They had told him that there were no cameras anywhere on the track and neither at the registration booth, so he didn't see any reason why they should forcefully try for you to regain consciousness. The bad guys, if there were any, would be long gone, anyway. He insisted that they could get your statement later. And that's why Alex is coming here. He knows how these things work, plus he's your guardian."

My mouth must have fallen open during Luke's elaborate recount of what happened after I passed out. I slowly close it while my brain is still busy processing this new information.

I have to talk to the police.

Alex and Jordan are coming here.

Why Jordan?

"Why is Jordan coming?" I ask what is on my mind.

I want nothing more than for him to wrap me up in his strong arms, but at the same time, I am hesitant to meet any of my family anytime soon. Seeing Luke so distraught, and crying is still something I need to come to terms with. I have no idea how I will react to seeing more of my brothers so upset. The thought of seeing Jordan cry is almost unbearable. Not to mention Alex, who will be so heartbroken. I want to postpone this for as long as possible.

"He's driving. Alex was in no condition to get behind the wheel, according to Sean, after he talked to him."

I gulp as my heart clenches at the thought of my broken oldest brother. I will have to make sure to give him all the love I have to offer. I will be his rock in this challenging time. I will do anything within my power to make sure that he is okay.

For a change, Alex will have to rely on me.

I only hope that I will be strong enough to weather this storm.

For the sake of my family.

A/N - This was a sad chapter to write. Poor Lily, making herself believe that all is well. Poor Luke. And poor everyone else. This will be so hard for the Taylors to deal with. And Alex might be hit the hardest by this latest family drama. Let's hope that Lily will not crumble from sadness but will be able to fulfill her vow to be the rock for her grief-stricken brothers.

Thank you all for being so loyal and joining book #3! I love all your comments, votes and reads and I appreciate all of you who follow my account. Take care!