Emelie nervously fidgeted as she waited for him in the tea room of the rehab center. To her, the facility looked a lot more like a luxurious ski resort, with its lovely colonial architecture and amenities fit for a five star hotel. Located three hours away from their home city in the heavily forested area of the surrounding mountains,
Recovery Lodge
featured a full service spa, an expansive list of indoor and outdoor activities, and varying forms of therapy for their resident patients.
It was definitely the nicest rehab Sam had been sent to, and according to her mother, also the most expensive. Emelie hoped that Sam was finally getting the help that he needed. She loved her brother too much to lose him to his addiction.
"Why are you looking so sad, peewee?"
Emelie's spirits immediately brightened, and she turned around to face her brother. Unable to contain her happiness, she flung her arms around his neck and squeezed him in a tight hug.
"I've missed you so much," Emelie said, finally releasing him. But just as quickly as her elation arrived, it instantly vanished once she took a good look at her brother.
He'd been sent to
Recovery Lodge
almost a month prior after a dangerous, three day drug binge that had landed him in the hospital. When he finally came to consciousness, the doctors found evidence of multiple stimulants and hallucinogenics in his body. He'd been put on an emergency medical detox to rid his body of the harsh substances, and Emelie had been more fearful for him that she ever had.
Despite their parents' insistence that she return home while they waited with Sam, Emelie had refused to leave his side while he was in the hospital. It had terrified her, but she couldn't bear to abandon her brother and best friend in the world. It had broken her heart to see him in so much pain; Sam had looked like he was in more agony that he had ever been.
One moment, his skin would be ashen and white and he'd complain of cold. Ten minutes later, he'd be sweating profusely and completely red, manically certain that the hospital was an incinerator, and the nurses were kidnappers trying to burn him alive. He'd constantly scratched at his skin and had heaved almost every hour, and the shaking...his trembling was nonstop.
When Emelie tried to reach out and calm him down, he'd sworn at her and yelled at her. She tried not to think much of the harsh things he'd said. She accepted that during his withdrawals, he wasn't entirely himself. It was the drugs that had called her a "stupid, vapid whore", not her beloved brother.
Once the withdrawals finally subsided and he was fully conscious, Sam had looked strung out, beaten up, and haggard.
But if at all possible, he looked even worse now...the exact opposite of what she expected. He was pale and even thinner than he'd been before, and there were heavy bags under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in weeks.
His pale blond hair was too long and unkempt, and his green eyes, also the same shade as hers, were bloodshot and red-rimmed. His arms trembled as he struggled to seat himself in the chair opposite her, veins protruding dangerously, as if it were some kind of heavy exertion just to transfer his own body weight to a chair. Even his tattoos, which Emelie had previously admired for their vibrant colors and edgy designs, appeared faded and weak.
"You look well, Emmy," Sam said tensely, once he stopped trembling. Emelie lowered her head and shrugged her shoulders, trying her hardest not to stare at the brother she hardly recognized.
"Mom and I went to the spa this morning," Emelie replied. Sam's eyebrows rose.
"She had time to go to the spa, but no time to visit me? I suppose facials and pedicures, or whatever it is you women do, is high priority," he said.
He spoke humorously, but Emelie could tell that he was deeply hurt that their mother hadn't shown up.
"She's...not doing well, Sam. You know how hard this is for her," Emelie said slowly. Sam shrugged his shoulders as he turned his gaze away from her and absently glanced around the room, something he only did when he was feeling uncomfortable.
"I expect as much. And Dad?" he asked. Emelie lowered her head and swallowed hard.
"Well...Dad is trying to take care of Mom," Emelie replied.
Sam sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. With the gesture, Emelie noticed an unsettling amount of dark bruises and red scabs in the crook of his arm.
When he finally looked at her again, his gaze was pained.
"I'm so sorry, Emmy," Sam said softly. They stared at each other very seriously for several moments, and eventually, Sam's face split into a wide grin. This was a game they'd played when they were children, and Emelie's laughter soon followed.
For almost their entire lives, most people thought that she and her brother were fraternal twins, due to their eyes and hair. They were three years apart, but by the time Emelie was twelve, she'd almost completely caught up to Sam in height. Their individual facial features were very different — Emelie's face was much more like their mother, whereas Sam's face was much more like their father.
However, on occasion, they would have these staring contests, holding the same exact same facial expression. And after a few moments, both would always feel like they were staring at a gender-flipped mirror.
"Is anyone taking care of you, Emmy?" he asked, once they both stopped laughing.
Emelie shrugged her shoulders and offered a weak smile, not wanting the mood to darken again.
"I'm doing a pretty decent job, I think. You just said I look well," Emelie joked, trying to lighten the conversation.
Sam started to appear guilty again, and Emelie scrambled to change the subject.
"Emmy, I'm so sorry I haven't—"
"I met a guy," Emelie said quickly. Sam cocked his head to one side.
"Who do I need to threaten?" Sam asked automatically. Emelie giggled and shook her head. This was the brother she recognized.
"Nobody, Mom and Dad love him. His name is Jake, and he plays football at State," Emelie replied. Sam narrowed his eyes.
"A guy in college, Emelie? How long have you been seeing him? How old is he?" Sam asked.
"We just met last week...and I don't know, he's a sophomore so I'm guessing nineteen or twenty. He's really sweet," Emelie added.
She knew it was ridiculous, considering her age of newly eighteen, but Jake suddenly seemed very...
young
to her.
Carlisle on the other hand, who she guessed was probably around thirty, was mature and...manly. He was smart and confident, sophisticated and experienced.
But of course, Carlisle had rejected her.
