Brandon woke up the next morning to his legs being pulled rather hard. He groaned, dug his face out of the pillow, and looked down at his feet to find Ben trying to drag him out of bed.
Benedict Malcolm Thomas Barrett. The prankster. One of his oldest friends.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," he said, wrapping his fists around his ankles and using all his force to drag him down. Brandon grabbed the mattress, stopping himself in time from being dragged down from the bed.
"Where did you come from?" He groaned again, tried to kick him but missed. Ben let go of his legs and they landed on the mattress with a thud. Brandon winced, flinging a kick in the air again.
"I came in through that doorway," Ben pointed at the entrance to the room. Then he jumped onto the mattress, the whole bed bouncing. "Wake up. We'll go riding."
"It's our last weekend home," Brandon mumbled. "Let me sleep."
He kicked his leg. "You'll never stop being lazy, will ya?" Ben laughed, punching him in the arm. Unable to put up with the early morning assault anymore, he finally rolled over, opening his eyes.
"What's the time?" he grumbled.
"About ten-thirty."
"What?" He sprang up, turning to look at the bedside clock. It was indeed ten-thirty in the morning.
"Holy cow! Why did no one wake me up?"
"Everyone's busy downstairs." Ben leaned back, and put a foot up on a knee. "The restaurant's teeming."
"Is Izzi here?" he asked. It was Saturday. She didn't have school. He half expected her to be around, helping his mother.
"Nope." Ben had picked up a keyring and was swinging it around on a finger. "She was eating breakfast when I left and seemed in a bad mood, so I didn't press." He looked at him, his eyes narrowing. "Is everything alright?"
Brandon sank back against the pillows, still wondering how one word had played in her mind yesterday. He was aware that she blamed everyone for what happened with her. Her family, her friends, her school, the society, the State...everyone. She wasn't wrong either. They indeed had done too little to keep her safe.
"Brandy?" A hand rested on his shoulder. He looked at Ben and tried to smile. Ben was an image of his father. Standing at six feet and two inches, he was lanky with not an ounce of fat on his lithe body, dimpled chin, long black hair, and eyes so dark, it was hard to tell the pupil and the iris apart. He possibly had the most beautiful face Brandon had ever seen on a man, handsome in a classical kind of way. As though he'd popped out of a fairytale book. And then there was the deep, sensuous voice.
All his life, Ben had kept a fine balance between his Irish and British identities. He could switch accents with surprising ease, knew England as well as he knew Ireland, and laughed at both Irish and British jokes. Like his mother, he also held dual citizenship.
"Did anything happen?" he asked, suddenly concerned. Ben had taken time to recover from Isabel's suicide attempt. He was better now, although always worried about his sister. Always. He had been protective earlier but now he was fierce. Like a lioness protecting her young ones.
"No. Not really." Brandon yawned, stretching. "We were talking yesterday, and then it went the wrong way... I think she misunderstood. Became upset, perhaps. I don't know. I can barely understand her reactions now."
"You aren't alone. Don't blame yourself." The hand on his shoulder squeezed and then went away. "I don't think I understand her, either. But we'd have to be in her shoes to really understand her feelings." He sighed, sitting up. "Which I never want to be, quite honestly."
Ben bent his knees, drawing his legs close to his body. Then he entwined his fingers on his knees. "Can I tell you something?" he said. "Whenever I knock on her door and don't get a response, I can't help but think that maybe she's again..."
He trailed off, his voice breaking. Brandon sat up and pulled him into a hug. They were acutely aware of that feeling. But Ben's trauma was far more intense than anybody else's. He was the one who'd found her in the bathroom, her wrist slit, blood surrounding her. For the rest of their time in hospital, he had only thrown up in the toilet.
His mother had counseled him for weeks, trying to get him to overcome the trauma. Ben was strong, though. He had remained disturbed and shaken for the first few weeks but had slowly come around.
His love for Isabel was strong and unconditional. And they weren't even biological siblings. They were first cousins. Ben's mother and Isabel's mother were sisters, although they had fallen out long ago. Emily had married Dr Thomas Barrett and moved to Ireland, while Isabel grew up in London. Thomas and Emily had always loved her, treated her with the same care and affection that they gave Ben. But they hadn't known what she'd been enduring for five years of her life until that night when she was found in the cold, dark basement of her house, gagged and starving, deep, bloody marks all over her body. That night changed everything.
"I still cannot believe that any sane person would do something so horrific to anyone," Ben's voice trembled as he spoke against his shoulder. "They were her parents, for god's sake!"
"They were no parent of hers," Brandon responded, stroking his back. "And they weren't sane either."
"Five years," Ben continued, his voice turning throaty. "For nearly five years she went through the horror. Why did she never tell anyone? I mean, we were close, right? I used to think she shared everything with me." He pulled away and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "I hated myself for not being able to help her. If only I had known the reason behind the covered clothes..."
"You saved her." Brandon reminded him. She had battled exsanguination for close to two weeks. When they'd brought her in, doctors had said that it would have been too late if Ben had not found her in time.
"Yes. And she didn't speak to me for... three weeks?" he sniffed, running his fingers through his lustrous mane. "She made me feel like I had done something really wrong by saving her."
"She wasn't okay. She isn't okay. But one day, she will appreciate life again. And then she'll realise what you had done for her."
"You believe that?" He looked at him, frowning. "You believe she'll appreciate life again?"
"She will. I know it." Brandon slid an arm around his shoulders. "Give her time. She needs to heal."
"I doubt if she'll ever heal completely. My parents are trying really hard to get her back to normal. We know it'll take time..." He laughed a dry laugh. "Talk about mum and dad having a patient right at home. We feel so helpless sometimes. Only Izzi knows the scars she bears. We'll never be able to put ourselves in her place and feel things the way she does."
"Your parents love her. That's what she needs. Love. Safety. A home." He sighed. "Time heals, Ben. We can only hope for the best."
Ben's parents had adopted Isabel but let her keep her existing last name because she was too old for an identity crisis. They loved her, cared for her unconditionally. But Isabel's wounds were her own. No one got through to her.
"Do you... do you think she does okay at school?" Brandon asked quietly, not sure if they should be having that conversation anymore. "I mean, she doesn't say anything, so..."
Ben shrugged. "She doesn't tell us anything, either. But it will be a little too much to expect her to be alright in the middle of hundreds of strangers." He put his head down where his knees were connected and sighed. "We just want her to get through Leaving Cert, that's all. Her grades are still brilliant, nothing wrong there. After what happened in London, we couldn't possibly keep her there anymore. I know Irish education is different from what she had in England, but... we had no other choice."
Brandon nodded. From a prestigious private academy in London to a small town school in an Irish county, the move was definitely extreme. They couldn't say if Isabel found it difficult at all. She was numb. Life was only a routine to her now.
"You know what?" he smiled. "I never told you, but you're really strong. Just like Izzi. If I were you, I wouldn't have been able to go through this whole boyband thing while my sister battled for life in a glass cabin." He shook his head. "I don't know how you did it, but it was very brave of you."
