Chapter 1

Stretching my limbs, I'm rewarded with a popping sound at the give of my stiff muscles, providing some relief after a long night of sleep. Yawning, I get a taste of my morning breath and instantly cringe. You'd think that toothpaste would do a better job ridding people of that.

walk over to the mirror on the back of my closet door. I would have a stand-alone mirror that didn't have to be shoved into my closet, but my room is only big enough to house my full-size bed, my four-drawer dresser, and a desk on the far side of my room against my windows. My room isn't extremely small, but the neon green paint I begged for as a child makes it feel much more closed in. I plan on re-painting my room every summer, but every summer I conveniently have some sort of excuse. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I have to double-take at the horrific sight staring back at me.

No, I look like Medusa. Maybe even Ursula from The Little Mermaid.

They're all the same. Identical to the image staring back at me in the mirror. My curls, dark brown that fade gently to dirty blonde as my hair reaches mid-back, are all tangled and make my scalp ache from the awkward angles they found themselves in last night. The mascara smeared over my face makes my light blue eyes stand out even more than they should, and I contemplate going for a smoky-eye look from now on, and there's even a bit of drool caked on the corner of my mouth. Every morning.

Once I'm able to get my hair dealt with, I move onto cleaning my face in the hallway bathroom, washing away the mascara from the day before and being sure to scrub off the drool and any toothpaste stains from the bit that dripped down my chin as I brushed. Some people wake up looking like princesses, I am not one of those people. I walk back into my room and to my white dresser with random nail polish stains from the times I accidentally spilled through the years, reminding me that I need to invest in a new dresser. Preferably one that isn't 16 years old.

Delicately, I pick up the necklace in its rightful place on top of my jewelry box. I lift the small pendant and hook it around my neck, feeling the cool touch of the diamond hitting the skin on my chest. I fiddle with the small charm, feeling closer to my mother with it on. The clock next to my bed reminds me that I need to get going if I don't want to be late for school, and from the lack of noise down the hallway I realize my older brother isn't even up yet. I walk down the hall, my feet comforted by the carpet as I pass pictures lining the wall of memories I can never get back, and I stop at my brothers room.

With no response after waiting two minutes after knocking, I open the door to Toby's room. In seconds, I regret my decision when I see two naked bodies in his bed and I quickly retreat back to my room. One clearly belongs to my brother, and the other to some girl that found herself in his bed last night. I wish I could say I was surprised, but my brother is notorious for this. I love him, but he has no shame.

I realize Toby most likely forgot to set his alarm last night since his mind was...occupied with other matters at hand. So, I fish around in my desk for the air horn I keep on hand for moments like this. I can't exactly crawl over the naked girl to shake Toby awake, and I can't yell for them to wake up either.

I haven't been able to speak since my

freshman year of high school. Three

long years of silence that I would give

anything to break but an unable to.

Three long years since that one fateful

night that stole my voice, my pride,

and my innocence. There's some sort

of mental block that won't alloW me to

speak, a PTSD of sorts. At least, that's

what the doctors said when it first

happened. I believe them. That night

still haurnts me when I close my eyes to go to sleep.

I was at my first party. My older

brother, Toby, has always been with

the 'it' crowd. Even as a sophomore he

was being invited to the senior parties,

and he rarely turned them down. One

day he finally gave in and let me and

my best friend, Alyse, tag along with

him and his best friend, Warren.

Warren was a big part of the reason

I wanted to go so badly. He was my

brother's hot best friend, and I wanted

the cliché love story where we fell in

love and lived happily ever after. I

figured a party would be a good start

to that, he would finally notice me as

more than just his best friend's little sister. I was so naive.

Much to my surprise, it worked.

Warren was all over me. He was

constantly making sure my drink

was full, taught me how to play the

drinking games, and had me attached

to his side the whole time. I felt like I

was on cloud-nine. I had a crush on

Warren since he and Toby became

friends back in fifth grade. Toby didn't

think twice about it, he was off on his

own flirting with the senior girls that

would give him the time of day. He

figured I was safe with his best friend.

So did I.

However, soon enough I realized

I drank too much. I started to feel

sick, I was incoherent, the room was

spinning. Warren quickly noticed

and offered to take me away from the

party and upstairs so I could lay down,

and I let him. He seemed worried

about my disoriented state of mind.

I soon passed out, only to wake up to

a throbbing pain down below, and it

didn't take long for me to realize what

had happened. My innocence was

gone, snatched from me against my

will.

I haven't spoken since.

Memories of what happened came

back to me in waves in the days after it

happened. My dad put me into therapy.

Through nmeeting with me therapist, I

was able to recall certain details that

I wish I never did. They thought that

having me remember and writing

about what happened would help my

voice come back, but soon my therapist

diagnosed me with PTSD that was

blocking me from being able to talk

and shortly after that I stopped trying.

I ended up learning sign language as

my way of communicating, or writing

things down since the majority of

people don't understand ASL. Toby and

my dad learned it with me, as well as

my closest friends.

I shake my head and walk back down

the hall and into Toby's room, blaring

the air horn into the silence. Flinching

at the noise, I watch as they both

shoot up in a panic, but seconds later

Toby's blue eyes land on me and he

groans, burying his head under the

pillow while the girl next to him tries

to hide under him, frantically asking

what's going on. I suppose I could havechosen another plan of action to wake

them, one that may not have been as

traumatizing for the girl, but nothing

beats the sound of an air-horn.

I go downstairs to start cooking

breakfast for Toby and me. I would

make some for the girl too, but I know

my brother's ways. She won't stay

for longer than another few minutes,

repulsed by my brother and his player ways.

As though acting out my thoughts,

angered footsteps come storming

down the steps and an equally pissed

off voice follows.

"Lose my number, asshole!""

The front door slams shut, echoing in

the house. I'm surprised the poor girl

was even allowed to stay the whole

night, Toby usually kicks them out

after he's had his fun. I don't condone

what he does, but I've learned that I can't necessarily stop him.

I frown and pour the pancake batter

onto the griddle, shaking my head

slightly at my brothers antics. He hasa new girl at least once a week, and

this girl lasted one night before being

kicked out. Most don't last longer than

that. Toby is famous for his record

of one night stands. It's not exactly a

superlative I would want to have, and

it's not exactly something I like to brag

about at family reunions.

I flip the pancakes onto a plate and

set it in the middle of the counter,

counting the seconds until my brother

will come bounding down the stairs.

I'm sure the scent of our breakfast has

drifted up through the ceiling and is

just now reaching his room.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two-

Here he is.

He comes sauntering into the kitchen,

his eyes set on the pancakes. He looks

to me and smiles gratefully, messing up

my hair.

"Thanks Raine," he says, taking his

seat at the counter before digging into

his breakfast. "I think this is your best batch of pancakes."

I smile and nod my response. He keeps

shoveling them into his mouth, the

large stack getting smaller with each

passing second, and my eyes divert

to the fridge. I look at one particular

picture sticking to it with a blue

magnet, standing out against the black

of the fridge, and a frown etches its

way onto my lips. It's of Toby and I

with our parents. I'm no older than

four years old, and he's no older than

five. If you didn't know he was a grade

above me you would think we were

twins with how similar our looks are.

My free hand comes up to play with the

necklace around my neck; my mother's

necklace. She passed away when I was

five, car accident. She was driving to

pick Toby up from his soccer game that

my dad had to leave early to go get me

from daycare. A truck ran his stop sign,

barreling into my mom on the drivers side.

My father instantly jumped into care

mode for my brother and I after the

funeral, never really giving himself

the chance to grieve. I knew her death

affected him greatly, he loved my mom

so much I wondered if he even loved

her more than Toby and I. I don't ever

remember a sour moment between the

two; we were kind of like the golden family.

But when she was killed, we lost that

reputation. Our father didn't take his

anger or grief out on his kids, nor did

he end up drinking his sorrow away.

He cared for Toby and I the best he

could being a single father with a full

time job, and yet he refused to marry

anyone else to get help. He wasn't used

to being a single father, and he had a

tough time adjusting. There were times

he would forget to pick Toby or I up

from practice or school, or he would

forget to buy certain groceries at the

store, but we loved him regardless because he was there for us.

When I turned 12 his business took

off. It became a big name in the

business world, and he was forced to

get an apartment in New York, leavingShe shakes her head, "I ate before I

left. So, who was it this time?" She

asks, referring to my womanizer of a

brother and his girl of choice.

"Some girl"

Alyse rolls her eyes. "Well obviously. I

meant like does she go to our school?"

I shake my head.

She purses her lips and nods, getting

lost in her own head, but I don't miss

the flash of sadness that crosses her

eyes. I frown and put a hand on her

shoulder to get her attention. When

she looks back at me I drop my hand

and sign to her reassuringly.

"He's an idiot, he will realize what he's

doing is wrong and stop it one day. Then

he can come running to you."

She laughs sadly and shakes her head

at me. "Yeah, right."

"You two ready to go?" Toby asks as he

comes back into the room with his hair

wet and no longer messed up from his

fun night.

We nod and he grabs his keys and

backpack, Alyse and I following.We get into his Ford F-150 Raptor

and start driving to school with the

radio cranked up. I look over at my

unusually quiet friend and my lips turn

down. Usually she's jamming out to the

music along with Toby, but now she's

looking out the window sorrowfully.

I'm not the only one with family

problems. Alyse's father passed away

when we were in 8th grade, and her

mother hasn't been the same since.

But I know that's not what she's upset

about right now. She has a hopeless

crush on Toby, a cliche just like mine

was with Warren. Of course, what

happened to me will never happen to

her. My brother is a womanizer, but

he would never do to anyone what

Warren did to me.

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