#phix

“To Whom It May Concern…..”

Molly sniffled, tears falling onto the notebook page and making the pink ink bleed slightly as she wrote. It was the tenth note she had written, but she just couldn't seem to find the words she needed to say.

Her vision blurred and she shook her head, looking away from the page in front of her as she set her pen down, shaking out her hands and sucking in a deep breath in an attempt to soothe herself… but her eyes landed on the framed photo sitting on the desk just off to the side of her, and her resolve crumbled.

“Asshole." She whispered, picking up the photo and trying to take herself back to that day; trying to remember what her brother sounded like and felt like as they say snuggled up together in bed, their noses red and raw from the cold they caught after deliberately sneaking out to play in the first snowfall of the winter season, their winter wear be damned as they spent the early hours of the morning running barefoot through the snow making snow angels. It was the week before Anthony's first rehab stay and they had spent it in bed sick, refusing to leave each other since they knew they'd have to be apart when he finally left. They were only 17 then and it would’ve been the first time they'd be apart for more than just a night or two since birth, but even at 17, Molly knew that it wouldn't be the last time.

“You were supposed to get better, Tony.” She sniffed, looking at the photo. “You promised.."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Molly set the frame back down, hating the feeling that settled in her stomach whenever she thought about her twin and every time he would promise her that he would quit the drugs…. And every time he'd get himself clean only to fall straight back into that hell he's made himself so comfortable in, going from her brother to the zombie that she found herself calling her brother for almost 20 years.

Wiping her eyes, she glanced back at the photo, smiling sadly as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the small plastic baggie of pills….. she wasn't sure what they were, but in all honesty, she didn't care. She found them a week after they buried Tony, the bag sewn into the belly of one of his favorite childhood stuffed animals.

Molly remembered staring at the pills, remembered wanting to flush them the second she found them….. but she couldn't bring herself to get rid of them, finding herself coming back to his old room; back to that bag and wondering what her brother's last moments felt like.

Was he scared?

Did it hurt?

The thought of her brother dying alone and scared and in pain sent shockwaves of hurt through her chest. Although it had been half a year since his death, she couldn't shake the feeling of needing to know.

Molly had dry swallowed one of the pills without truly thinking about it as she remembered getting the call about her brother's death…. And then she swallowed another…. and another…. and another…..

After swallowing the last pill, Molly wiped her eyes, looking back down at the paper and pen in front of her. She knew what she had done, and she wasn't even sure she could bring herself to regret it as she picked up the pen with a trembling hand

“Tony will take care of me. I'm sorry.”

Placing the pen down, Molly walked back over to Anthony's bed, picking up the bear she had found his stash in and hugging it close to her chest as she laid down, trying to find the comforting scent and feel of her brother the way she had done when she used to when they were kids.