My mother’s words echo relentlessly in my head as I drive blindly toward Elliott’s home. The reality of it carved into my senses: my mother has a brain tumour, she is sick, and my f.ucking brother knew about it and didn’t tell me.
The tyres lose their bite, slipping across the asphalt as I take a corner at speed. It’s a sharp reminder that as much as I’m burning with rage, it’s not worth dying for. I ease my foot off the gas, slowing my speed, though my knuckles remain white agaisnt the steering wheel. I navigate the remaining streets with a little more care until I finally swerve into the quiet cul de sac that holds my brother’s house.
I screech to a halt at the end of the driveway, blocking in his and Darcie’s cars. I’m throwing open the door and out of the seat before the engine can e
