Trapped Between The Duclair Brothers

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

Even that was enough to send a tight ache through his chest.

Usually, even late at night, he could hear noise from Aria's room, music he doubted she liked, quiet phone calls with friends he didn't trust, drawers slamming when she was upset.

Tonight, there was nothing.

He hovered at the foot of the stairs, every muscle tense, ears desperate for even the faintest sound.

Silence.

It had been like this more and more lately.

Ever since her mother left.

Ever since she started sneaking out, coming home with the sharp smell of smoke clinging to her clothes, ever since the school began calling him in every other week.

Suspended twice in one month.

Four visits to the principal's office in seven days.

Grades falling faster than he could catch them.

He rubbed his tired face, hoping it would somehow take the worry away.

Maybe if he'd fought harder, her mother wouldn't have walked away.

Maybe if he'd noticed the signs sooner, Aria wouldn't be slipping away from him, vanishing grain by grain like sand through his fingers.

He crept down the hallway, pausing at the door she'd slammed in his face just hours before.

"Aria?" he called softly.

No answer.

He knocked.

Once.

Then again, louder. "Aria?"

Nothing.

A chill crept up his spine, slow and unwelcome.

"She's probably asleep," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

But his hand was already on the handle.

The door creaked open.

The smell hit him first, strong and impossible to miss.

Medicine. The smell was sharp, stinging the back of his throat.

His eyes dropped to the floor.

Pill bottles.

Spilled everywhere.

His heart seemed to freeze mid-beat.

"Aria?"

He rushed inside.

She lay on the bed, still and tangled in the sheets, her skin pale against the dark blankets.

For a single, gut-wrenching second, he was sure she wasn't breathing.

Then, to his relief, he saw her chest rise and fall, just barely.

He was at her side in a heartbeat, hands shaking her shoulders, desperate for any response.

"Aria. Aria, wake up. Can you hear me?"

No response.

His hands were trembling as he grabbed his phone and dialed.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My daughter," His voice broke. "She's unconscious." After that, everything blurred into a frantic rush.

The sirens.

The flashing lights.

Her limp hand in his as they rushed her onto a stretcher.

He climbed into the ambulance without realizing he had done so.

"I can't lose her," he thought. "I can't. She's all I have left."

At the hospital, they took her from him.

The waiting room was too bright.

It was cold, the kind that made him shiver all over.

He sat with his head in his hands, staring at the floor, replaying every moment he had missed.

The last argument.

The way she'd looked at him, eyes full of accusation, as if he was the enemy.

When the doctor finally came out, he stood so fast his chair fell backward.

"She's stable," the doctor said. "You brought her in on time."

His knees buckled, barely holding him upright.

Later, when he was allowed in, she looked tiny under the hospital sheets, her skin almost translucent.

Not rebellious.

Not angry.

Just a frightened girl who had almost made a terrible mistake.

He sat next to her and whispered, "I'm still here, Aria. I'm not going anywhere."

Outside, the night kept moving.

Inside, nothing would ever be the same again.