Page 215 of This Life of Mine

“Peter and Sam, our younger brother, are on the floor playing a video game. Sam is laughing—too loud, too free.” A breath slips out of me. “I remember thinking, even in the dream, this won’t last.”

I swallow.

“It happens fast. Peter gets angry out of nowhere. Really angry. Like a switch flips.”

My chest tightens.

“He starts calling Sam stupid. Shoving him. Just little pushes at first.” I turn my head. “But I can see it. I always could. I knew what was coming before it happened.”

I draw in air that feels too big for my lungs.

“He grabs Sam by the arm and lifts him like he weighs nothing. He’s screaming at him. Spitting the words. Then he drags him to the wall and slams him into it, holding him there.”

My fingers tighten around the mug.

“He punches the wall next to Sam’s head. Hard. Over and over. Like he wants it to be his face so badly.”

My voice wavers, but I don’t stop.

“I’m yelling at him to stop. I always am.”

I hesitate.

“He tells me to shut the fuck up.”

“In the dream, my eyes start searching the room—corners, doorways.” My voice drops. “And relief washes over me when I see that Anna, our youngest sister, isn’t there.”

Protecting her from seeing it was always the first rule. Always number one. If she had been there, I would’ve guided her into another room. Turned the TV on. Made it loud enough to drown everything else out.

“Then I look back at Sam.”

“But I’m scared to step in,” I admit, “because Peter never had a problem hitting me too. Girl or not. Sister or not.”

I briefly close my eyes.

“Peter grabs Sam’s face.”

“His hand swallows Sam’s cheeks, fingers digging in hard enough to force his mouth open. Hard enough that I can see the pressure whitening his knuckles.” My throat burns.

“Sam’s feet barely touch the floor as Peter leans down, screaming directly into his face. Spit everywhere. The words don’t even matter—only the rage.”

Something inside me splinters.

“I can’t stand there and watch it happen,” I say. “I never could.”

“So I move before I think. I grab Peter’s arm and yank it back, putting myself between him and Sam like my body already knows what to do.” My hands tremble. “What to brace for.”

“Stop,” I scream.

“And that is the moment I notice it.”

“Up close.”

“It isn’t Peter’s face staring back at me.”

“It’s Cole.”

The name leaves my mouth like a bruise being pressed.