Underneath the Sycamore Tree

by B. Celeste

Pain comes in countless forms. The worst is seeing what your suffering does to everyone around you.

I let everybody use me.

Kaiden sees me but doesn’t see me.

Disease is the monster in the dark. It lingers, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It rears its ugly head and takes what it wants, when it wants.

“You have someone,” he murmurs. My brows pinch. He glances at my face. “You have me.”

Just as I’m about to wiggle my way out of his grip, he tightens it. “It’s too fucking early,” he mumbles, voice muffled by sleepiness. “What are you doing?” I hiss, trying to get out of bed. He won’t let me. “I’m trying to sleep, but you’re being annoying.”

“I think Logan is around sometimes. Like when I’m having a bad day or something, it’s like I feel her. In the wind. The sun. In music.”

Then it happens. The fucking sunshine. The dispersing clouds. The rainbow. Once upon a time, I’d been told by a girl full of hope that her twin sister looked down at her from the sky. I thought it was bullshit. As much bullshit as the damn song she loved listening to that I can’t stand hearing when it comes on. But there it is.