As Dusty excused herself to take a shower, Trisha leaned up against the wall and put her head in her hands. She felt that her entire life was spiraling out of control.
"I better go check on Zac," she muttered to herself. She slowly made her way up the stairs and into her parents' bedroom. Nothing had changed since their death; neither Trisha or Brad could stand to get rid of their things. A bottle of Mrs. Tyler's perfume still sat on the dresser, and Mr. Tyler's favorite tie was still draped over his desk chair.
Trisha looked down at the sleeping angel in the bed. No one had slept in it since that horrible morning...
The phone rang loudly, interuppting Trisha's Saturday morning cartoons. After the third or fourth ring, she answered. "Hello?"
"May I please speak to Miss Trisha Tyler?" It was probably a salesperson by the serious tone of voice.
"This is she."
"Miss Tyler, we're sorry to inform you that there has been an accident. Your parents were killed in a car wreck several hours ago. We need you or your next-of-kin, whoever that may be, to come over to the hospital and identify the bodies, as well as make funeral arrangements."
Trisha dropped the phone and ran to her parents' room. "Momma, Daddy!" she screamed like a little girl. Throwing open the door, she stopped. There was the empty bed, where they had slept only this morning.
Numbness took over as she walked back to the phone. She hung it up without thinking, but the last words from the voice on the other end did not escape her.
"Would you prefer cremation or burial?"
The sound of the shower turning on pulled Trisha back into reality. She glanced around the room, thinking it was time to move on. But it wasn't so easy as they said. With a shiver, she covered Zac up and quietly slipped out the door. But not before she grabbed one of her father's shirts and put it on over her tank top.
An hour later, Trisha was dragging Dusty into the doctor's office. As the doctor called for Dusty Shaginaw, Trisha patted her arm reassuringly and offered to go back with her.
"No, that's okay," Dusty replied. "I have to do this on my own."
"I'll wait right here, then," Trisha told her. Dusty disappeared into the back, and Trisha sat down to read a Highlights magazine. There was a couple across the room, in their mid-twenties, with a daughter, who was around eight. The mother was clearly pregnant, and Trisha was reminded of her own brother's birth.
Trisha paced the waiting room for hours, worrying about her mother and soon-to-be baby brother. What if something went wrong? What if her mommy died? What if her baby brother did? She was so scared.
A friendly nurse placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to speak with her. "Trisha, would you like to come and meet your baby brother?"
They ran to her mother's room and she walked in. There, in her mom's arms, was the most precious baby she had ever seen.
"Trisha, meet your little brother, Brad." And it was truly love at first sight.
Fastforward to her 14th birthday, a summer spent at her family's cabin on the lake. It was there that she and Dusty had first met the Hansons.
Trisha and her best friend Dusty were acting like hyper ten-year-olds, despite the fact that they were "real teenagers" now. Summers at the cabin were always a blast. They spent their time swimming, tanning, picking up cute guys, and talking. They were talking as they walked inside the local teen club that evening.
Dressed to kill in flare jeans and spaghetti strap tank tops, they worked their way around the room, heading for the juice bar. Suddenly, Trisha felt a tap on her shoulder. She whirled around to face a gorgeous guy of about sixteen.
"Hi, I'm Taylor. Would you like to dance?" She opened her mouth to reply, but he started talking again. "Not with me. I meant with my little brother Zac. He's right over there." He pointed to another blond guy not far behind.
"Yeah!" Trisha replied, thrilled to be asked to dance with a guy that fine. She let Taylor lead her to Zac, dragging Dusty along behind.
"Are you ready to go?" She looked up to see Dusty waiting in front of her.
"Yeah, I'm ready." They hurried home to Trisha's house.
When they got inside, they found Zac sitting on the kitchen counter, eating an Oreo. "Dad's going to kill me," he said matter-of-factly. "He's going to freaking kill me."
Dusty automatically reached over and patted his hand like she had done Taylor so many times. "Everything will be fine."
Zac jerked his arm away. "Don't patronize me, damn it!" he yelled angrily. "You two are so happy. You think life is so great. You are just like Isaac, all happy go lucky and optimistic. Do you even know what pain is?"
Trisha was getting really pissed off; Dusty could feel the tension. She thanked every one of her lucky stars when the doorbell rang. The three of them made their way to the front hall, where Trisha opened the door. Standing on her front porch was Isaac.
"Isaac, we were just talking about you," Trisha said sweetly.
"Hey." Isaac nodded his head like one of those bobbing puppy dogs. "I'm here to take care of my little brother." He pushed his way inside the door, hugging Trisha and Zac. Then he turned to Dusty. "Whoa! You're as big as a cow or something."
"The plot thickens," Dusty muttered as she hugged Isaac. "How are you doing, Isaac?"
"Fine. Why?" His tone made her wonder what was going on. "Did you hear something? Have you talked to anyone lately? I'm fine."
Trisha exchanged a look with Dusty. This boy was so not fine that he might as well wear a sign or write it on his forehead.
"So what's up?" Zac led his brother through the house.
Isaac pulled out a gun. "Dad sent me, little bro." A shot was fired, and all who stood there heard the scream as if it were in their own head.
