June 2018
I wasn’t sure how long I sat in that alley hearing the echoes of Devon’s quiet rage juxtaposed against my mother’s shrill yell. “Get the f**k out!” I heard it over and over, like some sort of twisted echo chamber. Nobody ever wanted me. Nobody cared if I lived or died. Nobody except my brother. My missing other half.
The sight of dirty work boots pulled me out of my self-pity party. Too tweaked to look up, I assumed they belonged to Vern. I imagined him looking over me with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression indiscernible. For a moment, I tried to determine whether his trademark stoicism was better or worse than Devon and my mother’s scorn. Was apathy harder or easier to bear than rejection? But it was too much for my mind to hold on to. Then something clicked in m
