Hey guys so i was gonna update Because of You today since I've kind of been alternating between stories this past week, but I decided to update this one because there's some confusion about Michelle's brothers and family and stuff, so I'd like to clear that up.

Michelle had 2 brothers: Josh and Jesse. Josh died with Michelle's mother in the car accident when he was a baby. Michelle was nine and Jesse was 14. Jesse's "Never been the same since" and you'll figure out what happened to him in this chapter. Hope this cleared things up!:)

Enjoy!

It was 3 in the morning. The front door bust open loudly and a tall lanky figure appeared. I groaned and slowly sat up from the couch I had fallen sleep on. It was raining outside and the cool breeze was blowing around my cheeks. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and the figure moved forward. Only it wasn't a figure. It was my brother.

"Jesse!" yelled dad, stomping downstairs and turning on the lights.

"Heeeeeeeyyyyy daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad," Jesse muttered, obviously high on something.

One of his eyes was closed and he was smiling goofily. I rolled my eyes.

"Where have you been young man!" dad asked angrily.

"You knoooooowwwww. Here and there," he said.

"You haven't been home in three days!" I had never seen my dad angrier.

"Has it really been three?" moaned Jesse, scratching his head.

"Yes. Now get your ass to your room this instant!"

"HA right. I just needed to borrow a couple hundred dollars and then I'll be on my merry way," laughed Jesse.

"You are not getting a cent out of me!" dad yelled.

Jesse rolled his eyes and looked to me, "How about you? You're only ten, but I'm sure you have a few dollars in your piggy bank."

I shook my head, trying to look innocent.

"What? Did you spend it all on Snickers Bars?" he laughed.

His words stung. Bad. I felt the tears filling my eyes and I tried to blink them back.

"Baby!" he yelled at me, even though he was fifteen.

"Jesse," dad pleaded softly, "Let us help you."

"I don't need any help. I'm happier than I'll ever be," Jesse shot.

I stared at Jesse, appalled at how he was talking to our father. Jesse was my idol. My hero. I wrote about him on Hero's Day at school and now he had turned into some… druggy that leaves for days at a time and only comes back for money. He had changed so much in the past year since mom died. He was lankier, unhealthily thin. His neat polo shirts were replaced with a giant black sweatshirt that hung to his knees and had skulls all over them. He was wearing a beanie hat, but his greasy hair was long and poking through. Jesse pushed past my father and made his way to the bathroom. We followed and he was pulling the vent off the wall.

"Jess, what are you doing?" I asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing fat-ass? I'm getting my money so I can get out of here," he snapped.

When he pulled the vent away, there was a huge wad of rolled up cash. I gasped and he stashed it in his pocked, leaving the vent on the floor. He pushed us both out of the way and headed towards the front door. With one quick "Later," he ran outside and down the street.

"Jesse!" I cried. I wanted my brother back. My old brother. The one that taught me to ride a bike and watched SpongeBob with me every day after school. "Jesse! Please come back! Jesse!"

"Jesse?" I breathed.

"In flesh," he joked coldly.

"How did you find us?" I asked, surprised.

"Dad left me a note telling me where you guys would be," he snorted, "Stupid old man."

"Don't talk about dad that way!" I yelled.

He looked me up and down, raising his eyebrow, "Well I see you've taken my advice and stuck your fingers down your throat."

Paul growled behind me. I had forgotten he was here, seeing everything.

"Who's your friend?" Jesse asked, amused.

"None of your business. And shouldn't you be out smoking some weed or something. Or did you just come to beg for money again?" I shouted.

"Nah, I smoked some before I came," he wasn't kidding.

"Jesse!" I whined.

"Michelle," he mocked me and I felt Paul trembling behind me. He obviously didn't like the relationship I had with my brother.

"Just leave before dad gets home," I sighed, walking past him so I could go to my room. Paul followed me. I shut my bedroom door and slowly turned around.

PAUL'S POV

I should have known Michelle had a brother. She had mentioned Jesse on more than one occasion and the picture in her photo album of the older boy that resembled her. I watched her try to keep her face emotionless as she started to explain.

"Jesse is my… brother. I looked up to him in every possible way. He was my idol, my protector. Once when I was six, a boy from my school pulled my hair so Jesse gave him a black eye. We had an amazing relationship and I used to write essays about him whenever we had to write about our hero at school. While all the other girls had annoying brothers that treated them like crap, I had Jesse," she took a deep breath, "Then Josh came along. I vowed to be as good an older sibling as Jesse to me."

She looked at me with tear filled eyes. Instinctively, I opened my arms for her, but she just shook her head and dug around in her closet until she found a small picture. She smiled when she looked at it, and then handed it to me. It was two happy looking parents with their three kids. The mother with auburn hair like Michelle's and green eyes was holding a tiny baby who had on a big toothless grin. Michelle's dad had his arm wrapped around her waist. Michelle was on Jesse's back, obviously laughing about something. The kids were wearing matching Christmas pajamas and standing in front of a Christmas tree.

"Then, there was the accident. Both my brother and mom were killed," she whispered, "Jesse was never the same. He started sneaking out and getting drunk. Then, he got in some trouble for stealing stuff. Nothing huge, just candy bars and sodas. But then things got worse. He started doing drugs, he would disappear for three days at a time, he was never not high. That was when I started gaining weight. Then one day, he just didn't come back."

"Oh Michelle," I sighed sadly, pulling her onto my lap.

"That's not the worse part," she breathed, "It was my fault she died. I forgot my lunch at school, so I asked her to drive it to me. If I could have just remembered, or not asked, she wouldn't have gotten into that accident and we would still be happy!"

She broke down and started sobbing.