Fort Brothers

0006 — Isa

I chew my lip until it stings. Tilt my head, wondering if I heard correctly.

Memories echo through my mind. Seven-year-old me, small in a house that felt too big and too loud.

Grounded!

The door slammed in my face

Smack!

My cheeks burned for hours.

Kesley’s nails biting into my arm, she’d lean in close so only I could hear it: you're lucky anyone puts up with you.

The sharp pull on my ears until my eyes watered.

I stumble trying to keep up as she drags me toward the stairs, toward my bedroom, toward another evening locked away from everybody else.

Grounded!

It all comes back with the same sharp edge. The sting on my skin, the metallic taste of holding back tears.

I want to scream until my throat gave out. Cry until my eyes turned sore and swollen, until my chest hurt from dragging in broken breaths, until there was nothing left inside me except exhaustion and salt and silence—The crying that leaves you ruined afterwards. Ugly. Drained. Human. Until I could actually feel pain properly instead of this sick empty floating sensation swallowing everything whole.

I can't.

The door swings open behind me. Brittany and Beverly stumble in together laughing as they cross the threshold

Their ridiculously short skirts ride up with every step. Jackets hang open, showing more skin than fabric. Their black knee-high boots thud against the floor. Purses swing lazily off their shoulders. They huddle close. Foreheads almost touching. Their Shoulders bump and they giggle.

Sometimes I think they laugh too much.

Like the world has never given them a reason to stop.

And I cry too much.

Like mine has never given me a reason to start laughing instead.

I hastily wipe my tears away with the back of my hand and push myself forward, following the same path they just disappeared down—toward the living room.

"Isa."

My mind kept throwing Arthur back at me now, over and over, but “Dad” was still the only way I knew how to answer when he said my name.

His brown eyes held concern. Real concern. The kind that made my chest unclench for one second.

Then he turned to the twins. “You two. Upstairs.”

They react instantly—pouting, faces collapsing into exaggerated sadness, like overgrown puppies being denied a treat.

“Let the girls have some fun, Arthur. If they want to play video games, fine. It’s not like it matters anyway.” Kesley said.

“Isa and I need to talk.”

My heart plummeted. Dad looked back at me. Concern in his eyes. And underneath it — that thing I knew too well.

I wondered if this was it. If my entire world would start unraveling right here.

"Girls, upstairs to your rooms now." Kesley shooed the twins away, all gentle hands and fake smiles.

“Can’t y’all discuss your thing while we play Mario Kart?” one of them asks, dragging the words out with an exaggerated pout.

“You don’t need to hear this, my loves. It’s boring adult stuff.”

The twins groaned in unison, tossed their game pads aside, and turned toward the stairs.

Dad snapped his attention to his sister, "Know what Kesley? You don’t treat those girls like they’re twenty. You treat them like they’re still ten."

"Mind your business, Arthur."

"But you always handled mine even when I never asked you to lift a finger."

Kesley pulled air in through her nose. Her jaw worked, her mouth parted—

Dad cut her off before she could save face and turned to me “We’re withdrawing you from Mr Fort’s care. As of now.”

“We haven't come to any conclusions,” Kelsey cuts in.

“Let me speak.”

Kesley fell silent again.

I swallowed my own heartbeat. It was racing.

Across from me, Kelsey inhaled. Slow. Controlled. That was her loading the gun.

“I can handle it.” The words escaped before I could stop them. My heart had been racing. Turns out it wasn’t panic. It was rehearsing this line.

“Step aside, Isa. This case requires someone qualified. We have a responsibility to our patients.”

“There’s an RN on site. They handle medications. Assessments. Vitals. I’m not asking to be his doctor, father. I’m asking to stay.”

A beat. Then another.

“You never listen to me. I don’t want to force this out of your hand.”

“No need to force anything. For once, Kelsey chose right for me. She picked Mr Fort as my patient.'

Kesley’s mouth curved. Not a smile. “Funny. You fought your father on Mr Fort, but you’ll still fight for a marriage? Be a wife again, Isa. Who knows—maybe there you’d also realise we picked right for you.”

“Brittany. Beverly. Either of them might just be the right choice for Scott.” I looked her straight in the eye. “Good thing I'm not wife material, huh Kesley? You said so yourself.

"How dare you? My daughters are still young!"

I hurried upstairs now. I couldn’t bear to hear another word from that woman—not about alimony, not about debt, and certainly not about what might happen to our family if I don’t remarry Scott Moreland.