Westmin Family Medicine.
My father's building is burning to the ground, flames pouring from the windows, sending sparks high into the sky. The fire spits and crackles as I sit in shock watching. Windows burst out, one at a time, each explosion causing me to jump in my seat.
Oh my God, this isn't happening. This can't be happening.
Out of nowhere, the passenger door of my car flies open, and I whip my head over my shoulder in surprise.
“Drive.”
Squinting, my eyes and brain can't make sense of they're seeing. “Max?”
“Go! Go, Prairie! Fucking drive!”
“Wait, what? Why are you here? What's going on?”
“Just fucking drive!” he yells, slamming a heavy palm on the dashboard as he quickly glances out all the windows one at time.
His eyes are open wide, bigger than I've ever seen before. His skin is white as a ghost, and his breathing is frantic and rapid.
“All right,” I say, hitting the gas and making a U-turn in the road. Driving away from the fire, I watch it fade into the distance, the burning sky turning into a cloud of smoke the further away we get.
He sits quietly in the seat, his face stuck on the window, watching the trees.
“What the hell is going on, Max?”
Twisting slowly, he turns in my direction, and it's the first time I notice the damage to his face. His left eye is swelling shut, his lip is split in the corner, dribbling blood down his chin. There are small scrapes and cuts to his cheeks and forehead.
My eyes move down to his hands, where his knuckles are swollen, raw, and bleeding. There's dirt on his face and clothes, even in his hair.
“Oh my god, are you hurt? What the hell happened to you?” Lifting my hand to touch his cheek, he blocks me, grabbing my hand out of the air and lowering it down.
“I'm sorry, Prairie. I'm sorry I missed prom. I'm sorry I wasn't there like I told you I would. I planned on being there, I did, I never meant to stand you up.”
Tears stream down my cheeks as I pull the car over into the breakdown lane. Keeping my eyes out the windshield, my hands clench the wheel, nails digging into the leather upholstery. I've never seen him like this, and it's scaring me.
“I need to know the truth, Max. What happened tonight?” Flicking my eyes to his, I see something in his gaze I haven't before. Vulnerability. Weakness. Sadness.
All the things I didn't think he had the ability to feel, everything I thought he lacked is right there, staring me in the face.
“Har—” Max's door gets torn open before he can finish a single word, and he's ripped out of the car.
“What the fuck, Max? You fucking pussy!”
I know the voice immediately. Harlow.
With frantic eyes I notice there's another car behind us. I didn't see it pull it up, didn't even realize that we were probably being followed since I left the fire at my father's office building.
Throwing my door open, I jump out of the car, and run around to the front. Everything is happening in slow motion.
This can't be happening.
None of this can be happening.
A whirring noise fills my ears, drowning out everything else. In the white noise I hear myself inhale, and I hear myself exhale. But I can't understand everything I'm seeing.
Max is pressed against the back door, while Harlow has him pinned with both hands in place. His face is inches away from Max, teeth bared, eyes dark and sinister. Nothing about his expression is friendly or kind.
What is going on?
Why is he doing this?
Harlow's fingers tighten, clutching Max's shirt firmly. Giving him a quick shake, he snarls, “Do you think you can just run off on me? Did you really think you could fucking ditch your own brother?” Harlow grabs Max's jaw and forces him to look into his eyes. “Well, did you?”
“Let me go, Harlow,” he growls, holding his brother's stare. He doesn't look scared; he doesn't look intimidated. Max looks pissed.
There isn't any fear in his voice as he speaks. He's calm, and throaty, his tone holding a sliver of patience. Max and Harlow glare at each other, older brother verses younger brother in a battle of power.
Biting his bottom lip, Harlow nods lightly. “Let you go. Sure, I'll let you go.”
Grabbing Max by the back of the neck, Harlow grits his teeth, and throws him to the ground.
I think I scream, but I'm not sure. The whirring dissipates as my heart races like a horse around a track. It's beating hard and fast, the slow motion movie before me is now going so fast I can't keep up.
Running toward them, I hold my arms out, and scream, “No! Stop! Don't hurt him!”
Harlow looks up at me, his mouth peeling back into a soft smirk. I see the same look in his eyes I did that night. A cold, dead stare. Empty, lifeless, void of any real emotion I could recognize as human.
“Don't hurt him?” he asks, looking down at Max on the ground, then back up at me. “Oh, sweetheart, I won't hurt him. . .” Pausing, his lips peel back higher, exposing his teeth. “I'm going to fucking kill him.”
Lifting his foot, he kicks Max in the stomach with enough force to make Max contract into a ball. Harlow kicks him a second time, and then a third. He's a monster. He's insane. What kind of person treats their family like this?
“No!” I yell as loud as I can. My body lurches forward as tears I can't stop come pouring down my face. “Stop! Leave him alone!”
“You!” Harlow calls out, pointing in my direction. “All of this is your fucking fault! All of it! You did this! You made me do all of this!” Taking a firm step forward, my eyes open wide as I take a long step back.
His pupils turn to pinpricks as he frowns, dropping his head into his chest like he's going to charge me like a bull at a red flag. I'm the target, I'm the next challenge he needs to take down.
Harlow snarls louder as he takes another step, but Max snags his foot with one hand, causing him to trip.
Going down hard, Harlow falls on his face. Max is on top of him before he knows what hit him. Gripping his shoulder, he flips his brother over and throws a heavy fist, catching Harlow's jaw.
His head snaps to the side as he grunts in agony from the blow. Harlow throws up his hands to block his face as Max lays into him, punch after punch. The brothers are rolling, tangling together in a ball of angry testosterone. Arms are flying, legs are bucking, there are growls and grunts, heavy breathing and cracks of bone on flesh.
My heart is in my throat as I stand there, unable to stop either of them from beating the shit out of each other. I won't even try to stop them anyway. This isn't about me. I can see it in their faces. This fight is about them. It's about a broken brotherhood.
Two brothers who have been wrapped around each other's fingers since they were kids, and now they don't see eye to eye anymore. One wants control, the other wants out.
Anger swirls on hard knuckle hits and animal growls. There are no voices, no pleas, no mercy between them. Both of them are bleeding from their noses, their mouths, cuts on their faces and hands.
Enough of this! This is ridiculous!
“Stop! Stop!” I scream, but my words fall on deaf ears.
They can't hear me. My yells mean nothing. I'm no one in this fight. Just the girl who opened the flood gates.