Half of Nothing, Prologue: Myself, Half Gone

PROLOGUE:
Myself, Half Gone

“Have you ever thought of what fear really feels like?” I asked the person staring back at me. For months now, since I’d been coming here, I hadn’t spoken, not a word. I didn’t want to. But my parents were making me. They thought it would help even though I knew it wouldn’t. “Have you ever thought of what pain hurts the most?”

The teen psychologist/therapist, Mrs. Shire, blinked at me, probably surprised that I’d finally spoken. Those were the first words I had spoken in months, even to my own family, ever since it happened and my life had come crashing down around me. “I don’t know what you mean,” she finally replied.

I twisted a finger in the bottom of my shirt--a habit I had taken to long ago whenever I felt nervous. My brother did it too. Or at least he used to. “I mean exactly what I asked,” I told her. “What does fear mean to you? What kind of pain is the worst?”

“Mr. Cooper,” she started, shaking her head. “I am just here so you can talk about what’s going on inside of you. Asking these questions--”

“You have been asking me questions for months,” I shot back, but there was no snarl in my voice like there used to be. No, there never would be again. My voice had since taken on a monotone cadence that seemed to last forever. I could feel emotions still churning within me, begging to be released but I refused to let them. Crying would mean accepting. Accepting would mean losing. Losing I simply couldn’t do. Not like this.

“That’s different,” she told me.

“I fail to see how,” I commented, looking her in the eyes for the first time since we’d met. I hadn’t looked anyone in the eyes in months. I had barely turned my gaze away from the floor. “Why don’t you just answer my questions?”

She nodded. “Fair enough,” she said. “Okay. My idea of fear?” She frowned, creases appearing in her brows. Her dark gray eyes were narrowed in thought. I just watched her with a blank expression and emotionless eyes even though the emotions and feelings raging within me were screaming. “I don’t think I really know. I am afraid of heights.”

I shrugged. “So am I but I would gladly dive out of a plane without a parachute if I could.”

Now she stared at me, probably startled at my statement. I didn’t care. Why would I? “What do you mean, Mr. Cooper?”

I scowled at her. She kept calling me that. I wished she wouldn’t. I hated my last name anymore. It just kept reminding me. “Call me Leon.”

She nodded. “Okay, Leon. What do you mean?”

I didn’t answer her question. Instead, I asked her, “What do you think is the worst pain?”

“Well I’m sure I don’t know,” she replied. “I’ve heard that a broken femur is the worst.”

I shook my head. “No. Not even close.”

She paused, perplexed. I could see the confusion clouding her eyes. She tucked a lock of her dark brown hair behind her ear and frowned deeply at me. “Leon, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

I sighed. “No, you don’t. And that’s the problem. You don’t know what it’s like so why are you preaching this shit at me?”

She seemed alarmed but I didn’t care. “I’m trying to help you,” she said calmly.

“Yeah? Well you’re not doing a very good job. You can’t help me. No one can.”

“That’s not true,” she protested, reaching for my arm. I jerked free of her touch as though it were poison. “We can help you, Leon. We care about you. We don’t want to see you do this to yourself.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Your parents and I. We care. Your family. They care. You’re not alone, Leon, if you would just look around you and see all the people who are there--”

“But someone isn’t,” I replied darkly, giving her a glare as I slumped in my seat, a cushioned chair that I had grown accustomed to over these past few months. “Someone who is very important…they’re not here. They’ll never be here.”

Her eyes softened with compassion. “Leon, I know it hurts now, but just give yourself some time and it will get better.”

“It won’t.” It couldn’t. How could it when they were never coming back? They were gone. All I had left was a memory in my head, a whisper of air in my ears, and a dark pit in my heart. That was all I had as a reminder. Pictures may have been worth a thousand words but they did not even compare to the real thing. And I would never get that back, no matter how hard I tried, how much I pleaded, or how many tears dripped out of my eyes like the broken faucet they had become.

“It will, if you let it,” she told me, as though this were all my fault, that I was causing myself this pain.

Which, maybe I was. No one else understood how I felt. How could they?

“It won’t.”

“Leon--”

“You don’t understand!” I growled at her through gritted teeth. “How could you! You don’t know anything!” I stood and strode toward the door, desperate for escape, but I managed to stop myself before I could leave the room. I knew my parents would just be waiting outside the room and would be wanting to talk to me. As much as I was angry with Mrs. Shire, I couldn’t face them just yet.

“I know you feel upset,” Mrs. Shire said quietly as I turned to face her. My body was facing her but I kept my gaze on the ground, unable to look at her yet. I was afraid of what might happen if I did. “I know you feel like your world has been turned upside down but--”

“It has! Do you know what it’s like?”

“I can’t say that I do but--”

“Then you don’t understand, and you can’t!” Why was I still talking to her? Why did it matter? She couldn’t help me. No one could.

“Leon, please…you mustn’t let this do this to you.”

“You don’t understand,” I growled, taking a step backward, toward the door, when she got up and began moving toward me. She stopped a few feet away, thankfully.

“I know you’re hurting. I know what he meant to you. You loved him.”

“He’s my brother…was.” It hurt to use past tense when speaking of my brother, but I knew I would always have to from now on. Just a few months ago, it had still been present. There had been time, so much time, to say things that desperately needed to be said. Now it was all gone, all that wasted time, wasted words of anger, of sorrow and loss. It hurt. So much.

My breaths became shaky. I felt arms encircle me and looked up, but only found Mrs. Shire standing there, hugging me, trying to comfort me with light pats on the back. But I could not and would not be comforted. So I pushed away, wiping angrily at my eyes with the back of my hand.

“He was my brother,” I told her, as though she didn’t understand. “My brother.”

“I know.”

“My twin.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t! Do you know what it was like, watching him die with his blood on my hands? Literally coating my hands? Do you know what his last breath was? My name! Mine! Not Mom’s or Dad’s, but mine! I was supposed to help him! I was supposed to be there for him but I wasn’t! I failed!”

“No, Leon,” she said smoothly, her voice reassuring as she slid her arms around me again. I let myself melt into her embrace this time--not because I was accepting anything, but because my legs were too shaky to hold me and she was the only thing keeping me from going to the floor. The tears flew from my eyes and sobs ripped from my chest, shaking my body.

“I want my brother back,” I sobbed. I wasn’t ready for this. I was never going to be ready. I hadn’t been ready when it had happened--it was too soon. Too soon for me to be alone. We were twins--weren’t we always supposed to be together? Two halves of a whole? How could I keep going when he was gone?

And so I cried. And she just held me and tried to whisper to me reassuringly.

But I could only hear one thing, and that was my brother’s dying words in my head. My name on his lips, a faint breath of fading air. His last.

“Leon…”

“Kyran…” I whimpered into Mrs. Shire’s shoulder. I just wanted my brother back. Was that so much to ask? I didn’t think it was. I hoped it wasn’t.

Because that was all I wanted.

“Leon…” his voice. Always his voice. Fading from my mind as he faded from existence.

“Kyran…no…” I breathed shakily.

Why did this have to happen?