Already Gone

Roxy watched as her older sister sat at the bar, swathed in darkness and staring into the empty space ahead of her. A full bottle of vodka and an empty glass placed before her. Hearing the soft pad of footsteps, Roxy turned.

"How long she been down 'ere?" Her aunt asked, a weary look upon her tired face.

Roxy lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. "A while, I guess – I woke up and saw the hallway light on."

Peggy nodded before laying a reassuring hand on her niece's arm. "Go talk to her, go on." But Roxy shook her head. "She's your sister."

"That doesn't matter right now."

Peggy frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? 'Ere listen, you've both had a nasty shock finding out who did that to your dad and Ronnie knows you didn't mean to accuse her of it. She knows that and well, honestly – she's forgiven you for worse, so she'll forgive you for that. Talk to her."

Roxy turned away, wrapping her arms around the banister and returning her gaze to Ronnie. She felt Peggy leave, ascending the stairs to her room. But Roxy couldn't move, she couldn't leave that hallway, she couldn't move towards her sister.

She's like the living dead. . . Sometimes, during the day, she just sits there, silent and staring and nothing and nobody can break her from that trance. And I know that she's thinking and I wish, I wish I could snatch those thoughts away. Snatch them away and tear them up so that they couldn't be thought anymore, tear them up into tiny little pieces, so small that they could just disappear.

I wish I could take it away. I wish I could take everything away.

Bile rose in the back of Roxy's throat as her stomach turned over, but she forced herself to swallow, to push the burning liquid back down inside herself. She found her feet taking a step forward, and then another and then Roxy was walking into the bar. Walking to Ronnie.

The bar stool made a scraping noise against the floor as Roxy drew it out so she could sit beside her sister. Tentatively, she reached out a warm hand and laid it across one of Ronnie's. "You're freezing," Roxy stated softly, curling her fingers around Ronnie's. But it was as though her sister hadn't heard or felt her.

I don't know what to do, I don't know how to help her, how to make this better. How can there be anything in the world that makes this better? I had no idea what to do after Danielle and the baby, so what the hell am I meant to do now?

"Ron," She whispered, as though not daring to raise her voice any louder.

"I'm tired," Ronnie stated, still staring at the bottle of vodka and refusing to look at her younger sister.

"Then why aren't you sleeping?" Roxy pressed gently. She squeezed Ronnie's fingers, trying to convey that she was there and that she would be there from now on.

"I . . . can't."

Roxy nodded, her lips pressed together tightly so that nothing could spill out of her. "You need to see someone, Ron, someone . . . professional."

Ronnie's body visibly stiffened and she pulled her hand away from her sister's. She stepped down from the bar stool and made her way over to the red double doors.

"Ron – where're you goin'?"

"I need some air-"

"No, you need to stay here, Ronnie. Ronnie, it's four in the morning!" Roxy exclaimed, jumping down and following her sister out into the darkened Square. She shivered as the biting cold March air licked her skin, acutely aware of the fact that Ronnie hadn't even flinched. "Ronnie, you need to talk about this."

"No, no, I don't."

"You're having nightmares, Ron. I've heard you, up every few hours – it's like, it's like you can't get any peace . . ."

Ronnie stopped walking, stopped dead in her tracks, Roxy's words seeping into her body. Every night she'd lay awake, too terrified to close her eyes. And then exhaustion would sweep over her and her mind would go blank, allowing her relief for the briefest of moments.

But then she would see his face.

And the weight of everything she knew would press down on her until she couldn't breathe.

"Ronnie, please," Roxy begged. "Please let someone help you."