Bad Attitude by Tiffany White

death wish,” he said, putting out the one he’d just lighted. “It only means I have a bad habit. Don’t you have any bad habits, Red?”
    â€œI’m not talking about the cigarettes, and you well know it. They’ll kill you, all right, but it will most likely take years. Your death wish is more immediate.”
    â€œI do not have a death wish.”
    â€œWhat you have is a classic case of denial, Mitch.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou’re denying your reckless and dangerous behavior since Matthew’s death the same way you’ve been denying the fact that your brother, not you, was responsible for his death. You can’t bring your brother back to life by feeling guilty. I know that. You have to let him go and start to live again.”
    â€œThat’s easy for you to say,” Mitch said, his voice bleak. “You don’t know what it feels like. You don’t know how it feels to have a part of you gone forever.”
    â€œI know only too well what it feels like,” Molly whispered softly.
    Mitch looked at her oddly.
    â€œMy older brother, Joey, died when I was ten,” she explained. “He was a thrill seeker like Matthew. I idolized him. Everywhere Joey went, I tagged along … and he let me. I think in some way he needed my childish worship. My parents were pretty tough on him, always demanding he measure up. My love was unconditional. We were very close.
    â€œHe was always taking dares and it scared me. There wasn’t anything he liked better than living on the edge. I used to beg him not to be so reckless, but he’d just laugh and muss my hair.
    â€œHe died,” she said, her voice catching, “he died in a stupid, senseless way. On a bet. He was trying to swim across the river and the current was too swift. I had to stand on the far shore and watch as the current pulled him under. I had to watch Joey
    drown, unable to save him….“ Tears escaped from
    her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
    â€œI’m sorry, Molly. I didn’t know.”
    â€œWell, now you do. Don’t make me watch again, unable to save you. I couldn’t bear it if it happened again. This time I wouldn’t survive.”
    â€œWhat do you want me to do?” Mitch’s voice was raw with pain.
    â€œI want you to stop. Allow yourself to feel the pain, to grieve and then to live again. Get off the suicide express.”
    Mitch looked at her with the expression of a recalcitrant teenager.
    Molly forged ahead, determined to get through the strong, tough-guy facade to the devastated man. “Don’t you see what you’re doing?” she demanded.
    â€œI’m not doing anything,” he said, lighting another cigarette.
    â€œYes, you are. You’re trying to bring Matthew back with these senseless stunts. By being him. But you’re not him, Mitch. He was the thrill seeker, not you.”
    Frustrated, Mitch stabbed out the cigarette. “We were identical twins.”
    â€œYes, you were twins who were close,” she agreed, wondering how Mitch really could bear the loss of a reflection of himself. She couldn’t show her sympathy … that wouldn’t help Mitch. “But even though you were very close, you weren’t the same person. You became an actor because you needed to express yourself in another way.”
    â€œYou don’t know what I need—”
    â€œYes, I do. You need what we all need … to be happy. To be happy, Mitch, you have to like yourself. Lose the self-pity.”
    Mitch hooted. Crossing his arms over his chest, he surveyed her so intently that she squirmed. “That’s a fine thing for you to say,” he declared.
    â€œWhy?” she asked, fairly sure she wasn’t going to like his answer. While it was perfectly fine for her to dissect him, she wasn’t open to having him critique her. She was far too vulnerable for that, despite