Exit Wound by Alexandra Moore

tissues. “What was the last thing you said to him?”
    I prepared myself for the great lie I was about to give. If I had the chance to document a moment that never happened, a part of me believed that somewhere, somehow it did happen.
    “I told him, I love you .”
    The cameramen were done with their footage of the day and left to go to their van. When I was left alone with Ben, I could see that he had a million questions running through his mind.
    “So, you and Everett were close?”
    “Yeah, really close.”
    “How were you so close with him when you barely saw each other?”
    He seemed to be asking the question to himself more than he was asking me. I didn’t bother answering. I couldn’t explain to him that Everett fulfilled the promise my brother never did. He saw me when my brother avoided me. He protected me. He loved me. I couldn’t bear to tell Ben that Everett was a surrogate brother. Especially since I had slept with him.
    When I didn’t answer, he sighed, and I started to sob.
    “What’s your favorite thing about him?” Ben asked.
    “The way he smiled at me and told me I was…” I wanted to say “beautiful”—instead, I cried out into sobs and hiccups.
    “Bea, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything anymore. I understand.”
    I knew Ben didn’t understand. Still, I nodded and buried my face into his chest and cried.
    He held me as I did, and for the first time since I was twelve years old, I felt close to him again. Losing Everett was going to be one of the worst memories I’d ever have, but his death may be the only reason my brother and I could act the way we used to.
    The memory of his blood covering me as well as the sound of the gun firing bullets into his body would haunt me forever. That was bad enough, but knowing that I couldn’t perform his dying wish left me afraid of what I’d find in the dark. I felt he would always be there waiting patiently for me to tell him how I loved him one last time.
     
    ***
     
    The weekend couldn’t come fast enough. This weekend, we had break days, and I couldn’t be any happier that we were nearly finished with the last leg of tour. Of course, there were plenty of pranks and chaos happening before, during, and after each show, and I knew it was what they would do in any other tour. Just because Everett was gone didn’t mean they wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t want that.
    After recording my song, I felt a little bit differently. In fact, everyone else seemed to feel differently too. Ben wasn’t so worried about the house anymore (he got it, though), and Splinter didn’t have as much attitude. I was waiting for the final days until I could go home, pack up the rest of my life, and move on to the next phase.
    So far, I hadn’t received any more anonymous texts, and I didn’t know if I should be worried or relieved, so I was a bit of both.
    I wanted to know who was compelled to stalk and terrorize me, and I wanted to know why killing Everett was a necessary tool in their arsenal. I wanted to know a lot of things and hoped I’d find the answers in due time. I needed to sit back and breathe, but breathing was becoming more difficult. I may not have had the same feelings that I did before I recorded the song, but that didn’t mean that they had vanished. I wanted to record every song I could in hopes that would get rid of all the feelings.
    Once I got used to the camera crew, I allowed them to film me recording songs. It was odd being watched that way. I was so vulnerable when I was belting out the songs I’d written; I was sharing a piece of me that wasn’t meant to be shared. It was a hard thing to do, knowing I was being recorded as I laid my bleeding heart and aching soul out on the table. Soon enough, people could watch this from their own homes. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
    “What is it like being the younger sibling to such a big rock star?” the interviewer asked me.
    I laughed. “It’s really no different. I mean,