Pain ripped Taylor from her sleep and she jolted awake, gasping, tears streaming down her face. When the shock of rolling onto her injured arm subsided, she blinked and gazed around, trying to remember where she was.

From her blurry vision, her room took form. She was at home. Faint gray light seeped in from beneath the edge of her blinds. After wiping her face, she dragged her hand up to touch her arm, limply feeling the bandage that covered the stitches. Her arm throbbed painfully but the intense agony of the previous night was gone. Thoroughly exhausted, Taylor sank back onto her mattress and closed her eyes.

Just as she was slipping back into sleep, her alarm went off.

She let it run, unable to find enough strength to turn it off. When she heard the patter of her mother's footsteps, Taylor shut off the alarm and hid her wound under the blankets. A light knock sounded, but Taylor didn't reply. There was nothing left in her, she couldn't face the day, let alone get out of bed.

When her mother opened the door and whispered her name, Taylor stayed unresponsive. Her mother crossed the room and peered down at her daughter.

"Taylor," she said. "Sweetheart, are you up?"

"No," croaked Taylor.

Her mother sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed a hand over Taylor's brow. Taylor wanted to cry, the touch was gentle and comforting when at that moment she felt as if she had been run over and was paralyzed with fatigue.

"Rough night?" her mother asked.

"The worst." At least this was a truth she could admit.

Her mother stroked her cheek, murmuring her sympathies. Taylor felt her head fall to the side as sleep called to her.

"Go back to sleep," her mother said.

The words traveled to Taylor from a great distance as she fell back into her dreams.

******

Taylor slept for more than a day. Her mother woke her up periodically to see if she was sick, but once convinced she suffered only from exhaustion, she let Taylor sleep.

When her mother woke Taylor the next day in the early afternoon, Taylor felt more put together. She murmured that she would get up and it was enough that her mother slipped out. Eyes still half-closed, Taylor pushed herself up. Her arm throbbed but it was bearable. When she managed to fully open her eyes, she noticed a bottle of pills and a note tucked behind her lamp on her nightstand. She grabbed both items.

Taylor, take two of these every six hours. It will help with the pain. - Naomi.

Taylor read the message three times before it penetrated her mind. Foregoing water, she swallowed two of the pills dry. They left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she hardly cared. Looking at the note again, pieces of two nights before returned. Weston carrying her to a car. Clint driving both of them to her house. Weston tugging off her shoes and tucking her into bed.

Taylor glanced down at her clothes and noticed she was in her jeans and the tank top she wore underneath her long-sleeved shirt. She vaguely wondered if it had been Naomi or Weston that took off the bloody garment.

Gathering her strength, Taylor swung her legs off the bed and paused there, building herself up to the next task, standing up. She was given a reprieve from the daunting mission by the ding of her phone. When she took it from her nightstand, she saw she had nine messages and a missed call from Dominic.

"I'm ready."

"Taylor?"

"Tay?"

"Are you there?"

"I tried to call but you didn't pick up, are you okay?"

"Taylor, you're starting to worry me. Please reply."

"You better not be dead on some street from saving someone or I'm never talking to you again."

"Taylor, just let me know you're okay!"

"I stopped by your house and your mother told me you were asleep. You better be okay or I'm never talking to you again."

Guilt twisted Taylor's stomach as she wrote back. At the same time, she noticed that someone had cleaned off the blood from her phone.

"I'm fine. Long story. I'll see you at school."

Sighing, she dropped the phone to her bed and pressed her hands into the mattress. The pain meds were kicking in and she felt the relief of being able to think without having to work for it. Slowly, she got ready, taking a skimpy shower so she didn't have to attempt reapplying the bandage to her arm. When she looked enough like a human being, she shoved the pill bottle into her backpack and headed into the kitchen.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Weston leaning against the counter talking to their mom.

When he turned his gaze on her, her heart plummeted.

The hours apart had given him enough time to bury his worry and sympathy and to rekindle his anger.

Right then, Taylor didn't care what mess it would cause with her mother, she wanted to vanish. Weston stared at her, pinning her to the ground as if daring her to do it.

"Taylor, you're ready," her mother said. "Here, come eat something."

With Weston's eyes tracking her, Taylor slunk into the kitchen and accepted the plate of eggs and toast her mother held out to her.

"Wes dropped by and said he could take you to school," her mother said.

Taylor nearly choked on her eggs. She could think of a million things that would be more pleasant than enduring a car ride with her brother at that moment. One of them included death by firing squad. She met Weston's gaze and knew there was no way she could finish her breakfast without throwing it back up a second later.

"Let's go," she said, sliding the plate away from her.

"Honey, you barely ate," her mother said, eyeing the uneaten toast. "Finish it, it will help get you through the rest of the day."

After forcing the rest of her food down her throat without choking herself and listening to her mother and brother share small chit chat, Taylor shouldered her backpack.

"Now we can go."

Her mother planted a kiss on Taylor's forehead. "Have a good day."

She turned to Weston and he bent down to receive his share of affection as well as a parting farewell. The two siblings crossed the house and walked out the door in a silence that would have seemed comfortable if not for the way Taylor strangled her backpack strap and Weston never once glanced at his sister. Out of the house, Taylor paused.

"It's okay, I can get to school from here," she said.

Weston didn't look back as he continued down the front steps to the driveway.

"Get in the car, Taylor."

Taylor didn't move. She knew she could do it. Just disappear. He couldn't stop her. He wouldn't even know she was gone until he rounded to the driver's side. He would only see an empty porch. But what she would have to face later would be worse than what she was about to face now.

Accepting her fate, she crossed over to the passenger side of her brother's black Charger. She got in as he started the engine. The interior was spotless. It was a type of spotless that made a passenger feel like trash.

For the first part of an eternity, Weston said nothing.

Taylor didn't know if this was worse or better than the words that he would eventually throw at her.

"What did you tell Naomi?" she asked.

Weston pressed his lips together. "The truth."

Taylor flinched at his vehemence, aware of the months that she had withheld it. Weston either didn't notice her reaction or pretended not to.

"I told her that a fight broke out at the precinct while you were there and you were caught in the crossfire."

"Oh."

Another eternity passed between them.

"How's your arm?" Weston asked.

There was no anger in his question but there was also no concern. It was as if he needed the knowledge to fill in a blank spot on a medical questionnaire.

"If I said it was killing me would you restrain yourself from yelling at me?"

"I'm not going to yell at you."

Taylor could hear how true this was. Her brother wasn't going to raise his voice but she wished that he would. It would be easier to handle than the controlled emotionless voice he used.

"I'm sorry," she said, speaking to the window.

A wall of silence responded. After a time in which Taylor felt herself turning old and gray, Weston spoke.

"You lied to me."

It was the one thing Taylor couldn't fight, argue, or excuse herself out of.

"Yes," she said, knotting her fingers together.

She glanced over, Weston's face was impassive but he gripped the steering wheel.

"How did it happen?"

Taylor curled her leg up and stared at the floor of the car. "It was when the EMTs had to restart my heart."

Weston worked his jaw, never peeling his eyes off the road. "Because of the accident." He looked a second away from snapping the wheel in half. "Since then you've been putting yourself in danger because of me."

"No...not always." He shook his head in disbelief. "I wanted to help people."

"Shadow..." He clenched his jaw. "You once told me you helped people because someone in your life inspired you. We both know damn well that's me, am I right?"

Taylor shrank down in her seat, crossing her good arm over herself.

"This all ends now, Taylor. You hear me?"

Scowling, she sat up. "You can't stop me."

He shot her a sharp look. "Do you not understand how dangerous this is for you?"

"Like it isn't dangerous for you?"

He jabbed a finger at her. "That is different and you know it."

"Oh really? How? Cause I can disappear in the blink of an eye but you can't."

"Because I went to the police academy and have the training."

"I'm going through training!"

Frustrated, Weston hit the steering wheel with his palm. "Self-defense training is not that same. There are so many factors you don't take into account. On top of having zero training for this, you're on your own. You have no backup."

"I've been fine on my own so far."

"Dammit Taylor, you were shot! This isn't a game but your life!"

Taylor wanted to take it back, him yelling was worse than the emotionless voice, for now, she could hear the fear and pain that he had been smothering under his controlled tone. She hunched her shoulders, wishing she were smaller while feeling like the size of a pea.

Silence descended and remained with them until they pulled up in front of the school.

"You're right," Weston said, in control again. "I can't stop you. But if you try to bring in criminals I will tell our parents."

Taylor paled. Facing Weston was one thing, he had already known to some extent of what she could do even if he didn't realize it. But if her parents found out, she didn't know how it would affect them. How they would look at her differently. How their manners would change around her. She was already floating out at sea with so few people to help guide her that she couldn't lose them.

"Give me the phone," Weston said.

After a second, Taylor found the black dinosaur of a phone and gave it to him. Somehow it was like she was handing in her badge, she was getting kicked off the force. Weston stared at the ancient device.

"I should have known," he said. "All this time, I should have known."

Taylor ducked her head hating herself for the guilt she heard in his voice. Guilt that belonged to her alone.

"I saw you die once," Weston said, his gaze cutting her to ribbons. "I can't live with the thought that I could see it again."

All she could do was nod, there was nothing to say.

On the sidewalk, she watched as her brother drove off, feeling the distance between them growing wider and wider.

**********************************************************************

"I am inevitable."

(Kinda like my cliff hangers are!)

Wow, this is a dark day indeed. Share, dear super, your thoughts, sorrows, and everything in between. 🦸🏽‍♀️🦸🏾‍♂️🦹🏼

(Side note: sorry for the cuss word, but Weston wouldn't have said anything less than that.)

I mean I can't hate him because let's face it, Taylor did get shot and she does need to take better care of herself. But still, it hurts that he's driving away from her.

Do you think they are going to be able to get past this? Do you think he'll ever forgive her?

Gosh I hope so, I couldn't imagine them not being close!

I've written a couple of brother and sister dynamics that I really love, Amelia and Charlie (Every Second), Elliot and Tristan (Mr. Write) and now Taylor and Weston. Each of them are so different from the others, but the only thing that is the same is the deep love that is in all of them.

I guess this comes from having five brothers and understanding the cool bond you can form with an older brother!

Xaqiiqooyin Xiiso Leh (Somali):The people of Wakanda speak a real language. Wakanda's official  is a variant of Xhosa, which is primarily spoken in Zimbabwe and South Africa.

Vote, comment, follow, but only if you stand for the hope that relationships will be healed.