Briar was pacing the living room in a near-panic. Her phone was charging nearby, and she resisted the urge to snatch it from the charger and call Colton again. She knew it would be futile. The reason she’d worn out the battery in the first place was because of the endless dial-outs.

Every time she had tried contacting her brother, it had gone straight through to voicemail, and as the hours ticked by, Briar concluded that she was going to have to find another way to work. The problem was, she was broke, and she’d waited too long to simply hop on a bus to get where she needed to be.

“Dammit, Colton!” she howled at nothingness. “I’m going to kill you with my bare hands!”

Suki glared at her, startled from her sleep along the back of a dilapidated Laz-E-Boy, and stretched indifferently before closing her yellow eyes and falling back into a sleep more peaceful than she deserved.

There was only one thing left to do: call work and tell them she was going to be indeterminately late.

It wasn’t a habit of hers, and Briar wasn’t overly concerned about how her manager at the big box store would feel about it, but she needed the hours. Her budget was planned to the penny, especially with her brother taking every spare cent. She reached for the landline to dial out, but when she tried it, the phone was dead.

And he didn’t pay the phone bill, either. Great. This keeps getting better. Subconsciously, Briar found herself looking toward the lights, wondering when the electricity was going to get cut. We’re days away from being homeless, and he’s who knows where doing who knows what. I can’t do this anymore. Even if I have to live out of my van until I get on my feet, I can’t keep carrying Colton.

As if he’d somehow heard her silent vow, the door swung inward, and Colton stood grinning at her.

“Hey!” he called brightly. “How’s it going?” Colton slammed the door closed with much more force than necessary, and Suki squealed, running from the living room, hissing in her usual surly fashion.

“H-how’s it going?” Briar echoed in disbelief. “Hey? You stole my van!” The smile faded off Colton’s lips, and he scowled at her.

“I didn’t steal anything,” he snapped. “I borrowed it, and now I’m back.” He tossed her keys toward her, and she caught them with her left hand seamlessly before snatching her purse off the sofa and shoving past her brother.

“We have a lot to discuss when I get home from work,” she told him grimly. “Don’t go out tonight.”

Colton scoffed at her. “What are you, my mother?”

“No, you ass. If I was our mother, I would punch you square in the face right now until you begged me for mercy,” she reminded him. “I’m only the idiot who’s been enabling you for months.” She jerked open the door, but Colton grabbed her arm, his brow crinkling in confusion.

“What are you going off about now, Briar?”

“You call this going off?” She laughed in disbelief. “This is not me going off. This is me trying to keep it together so I don’t go off! I have to get to work. I don’t suppose you put enough gas in the van to get me there.”

“Actually,” he leered, “I filled it up and washed it for you.”

Briar was momentarily lost for words. “R-really?” she demanded, not quite believing him.

“You’ll see for yourself.” She didn’t respond as she continued into the hallway. “You’re welcome!” Colton yelled after her, and Briar ground her teeth together so tightly, she thought they were going to break.

Why the hell would I thank him? He used my money! Still, she couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty as she made her way toward the elevators and waited for the lift. Maybe I’m too hard on him, she thought, and she instantly chided herself for being such a sucker for her little brother. Her compassion wasn’t going to take them far when they were living off nothing in her van.

Briar knew she couldn’t dwell on her anger at that moment. She needed to get herself into work mode.

No one wants a distracted sales associate in electronics, she thought, stepping into the lobby. James was smoking a cigarette on the front stoop.

“Is your brother home?” the super asked, exhaling a stinking breath of smoke as he spoke. Briar tried to sidestep it, not wanting to reek of tobacco when she got to work, but she ended up walking directly into the flow as the wind shifted. The dampness in the air wasn’t helping her cause.

Maybe it’s not too late to take a sick day. I’ll just call in dead. It was a fantasy, of course. There was no place to go for reprieve—not home, not work. She was screwed anywhere she went.

“Is that a yes?” James asked impatiently, and Briar shifted her head up, shaking it vehemently.

“Uh… no, sorry. I was just distracted. No, he’s not home.” Why are you lying? Let James go up there and give him an earful. It’s the least of what he deserves.

She still didn’t change her story. “Sorry, James, I have to get to work. I’m already late.”

James grunted in response, but he let her pass. Briar ran into the lot, where she paused against the rain to stare at her van. Despite the water pouring from the sky, it seemed that her brother had been telling the truth: it was spotless.

Why would he bother washing the car on a day like this?

It was an idle thought which barely diminished her pleasure when she slipped inside and saw that it was also detailed and that the gas tank was full.

“Wow. What did I do to deserve this?” She wondered if Colton had picked up her voicemails and felt guilty about worrying her, but again, she had little time to pursue the matter. She pulled out of the spot and headed toward I-95.

It was ten to twelve, and she picked up the phone to call work, but as she dug through her purse, she realized she must have forgotten the phone on the charger.

“God is mocking me,” she thought, tears of frustration building in her eyes. She was humiliated at the response, but her nerves were far too close to snapping for her to do anything about it.

Her whole life, all Briar had done was try to pull herself out of the life which had been created for her. She and Colton had been raised by middle-class parents who were not abusive, but they did leave a great deal to be desired in the role model department. The kids were beaten under the guise of “discipline,” berated under the pretense of “character building,” and taught to understand from a very young age that adults are far from perfect. Both parents drank enough to be considered alcoholics by today’s standards. Back then, it was “unwinding” after a long day.

Briar had been eager to go off to college, and while her grades were not perfect, she could have gone to several state colleges. But there had been no money to send her, and by the time she had learned this, there was no viable solution to the problem. She knew she couldn’t remain in the oppressive household, and as soon as she had saved up enough money from her babysitting and waitressing gigs, she’d found a half-finished room above a garage in Little Haiti.

Colton had only been fifteen at the time, but he had begged her to take him, too. Briar, knowing she couldn’t care for them both, had sworn she would come back for him as soon as she was more stable.

In the back of her mind was always the idea of going to college and becoming someone, but as the years passed, it quickly became evident that none of that was bound to happen. There was not enough money, and the jobs were menial at best. She struggled to make ends meet, and her rent was often paid at the expense of a week’s worth of groceries.

And all the while, there was Colton pleading for her to come for him in the background.

That was ten years ago, she thought. You don’t owe Colton anymore. He’s a grown up and so are you. You found a way to take care of yourself, and he should, too.

Briar reminded herself that Colton had opened his house to her when she had left Jack, even though she had never offered him a place to live, despite her promises. The guilt never really went away, and Briar had a hard time believing it ever would.

She moaned in anguish, turning her head toward the passenger seat to yank her handbag closer so she might dig around with more vigor.

I didn’t leave my cell at home, she tried to tell herself with conviction. I’m more responsible than that.

To her surprise, her hand closed around something that felt like the case of her Android, and Briar turned her bright blue eyes toward the bag with excitement. But when she pulled it out, she realized it was her address book.

Why do I even have an address book? I’m twenty-eight, not eighty.

The blare of a car horn caused her to whip her head back toward the road, the glare of headlights blinding her through the rain. Briar gasped, swerving wildly to the left, away from oncoming traffic. The van bounced off the guardrail and swung back into the road, only to be clipped by an SUV. Briar’s head jerked forward, her forehead smacking against the steering wheel.

More horns reverberated through the storm, but Briar barely heard anything as yet another car smashed into her, and suddenly, the world went as black as the sky above.