Not Ready to Forgive
My stomach turns, still empty since I never ate the plate of eggs I left in the living room.
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at my wrist, my fingers tracing the thin, raised line of the scar. It’s usually the only thing that grounds me when panic takes over, when the weight of old memories threatens to break me.
It’s not doing much to help me right now.
The room feels too quiet, too still, as my mind takes me back to that day.
The day everything changed.
1 see the inside of the car, hear the hum of the engine, feel the warm sun streaming through the windows. Alex is in the passenger seat, flipping through the stations on the
radio.
I’m in the backseat, leaning forward, reaching to poke his ear because he refuses to put on my station pick.
He swats at my hand, and I giggle.
I give him a peaceful thirty seconds before I lick my finger and try again.,
“Alina, quit it!” he says, but his voice is playful, and I giggle, doing it again.
He spins as much as he can in his seat and swats at me with both hands, slapping my shoulders until I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts.
Dad glances at us, grinning. “You are both the most annoying kids.”
The memory shifts and slows, the edges blurring.
The car enters the intersection.
A flash of red streaks across my vision.
The impact is sudden and violent, the sound of crunching metal drowning out my scream. The car jerks sideways, and we’re spinning, flipping, tumbling into chaos. I smell the sharp tang of chemicals, the bite of burning rubber. Glass shatters, cutting into my skin
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Not Ready to Forgive
like needles.
When the car finally stops moving, everything is silent. Too silent.
Dad saying nothing, Alex doesn’t even scream. I watch their still bodies as I taste blood in my mouth.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath hitching. I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots, trying to pull myself out of the memory. But it lingers, the weight of guilt pressing against my chest.
It’s my fault.
I distracted him. I was the reason he wasn’t looking.
And I survived.
The thought twists inside me, sharp and cruel. Why me? Why did I get to walk away when Alex didn’t? When Dad didn’t?
I cry silently, wiping at my face with the hem of my shirt. My shoulders shake, and my breath comes in uneven gasps.
The guilt is suffocating, and the moments like this when I feel like I cannot keep it at bay, all I want to do is stop breathing.
And now, knowing what Aiden did, t’s like the ground beneath me has been ripped away.
I think that’s why it was so easy for me to keep Zaid at a distance. He was so careless; he hurt someone with a car. It was something I thought was unforgiveable.
Now, to know that it was Aiden has me feeling guilty all over again.
I pull my knees to my chest, trying to steady myself, when I hear a loud crash from downstairs.
My heart skips, and I’m on my feet in an instant, running out of my room and down the stairs.
In the living room, I stop short. A shattered lamp lies in pieces on the floor, and Zaid and Aiden are standing across from each other, breathing heavily, their faces red with anger.
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Not Ready to Forgive
Neither of them even glance in my direction, too focused on each other.
Zaid shakes his head at Aiden, his voice low. “I don’t regret it.”
Aiden blinks like he’s in shock. “What?”
Zaid bites his lower lip before he continues. “I’d do it again if I had to. You’re my brother, Aiden. I love you.”
Aiden’s shoulders sag, his face crumpling as tears spill down his cheeks. My own chest sours in pain. It’s heartbreaking to see the relief in Aiden’s face, like he believed with all of himself that his brother hated him.
It’s even more painful for me to see Zaid express his love so confidently. It’s beautiful.
“I’m sorry,” Aiden says, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”
Zaid doesn’t soften. “Don’t be sorry. Be better.”
Aiden looks to the grounds, nodding.
Zaid’s fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t waste the chance I gave you. Take the damn scholarship. Go to fucking school. Do something with your life.”
Aiden nods quickly, his hands trembling. “I’m sorry Zaid.”
Zaid frowns, and I take a step back. I can feel the anger radiating off of him and I, for one, don’t want to be near him when he breaks.
But he reels it in, breathing in slowly before exhaling. “You seem to be confused, Aiden.”
Aiden swallows.
“I’m not mad because I took the blame. I’m mad that you hated me for it, and then that I
lost my brother in the process.”
Aiden looks like a fish out of water, his mouth parting and closing as if he cannot find the words to say.
Zaid exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his expression hardening. “I’m not ready to forgive you. And I’m not ready to be friends. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
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Not Ready to Forgive
The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of them moves. My heart breaks in two.
I lost my brother, and I would do anything to see him again. The fact that they have each other right here but can’t reconcile makes me want to scream at them.
Then Zaid turns, his eyes locking on mine. He freezes, his jaw tightening, his fists clenching even tighter like he didn’t know I was there.
I don’t say anything, and neither does he. He just walks past me, heading for the stairs.
I stay rooted in place, the tension in the room suffocating. Aiden collapses onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.
I slowly make my way toward him and sit beside him, running my hands down his back.
