Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT I STOPPED BEING AFRAID
The blood in the vehicle belonged to Eli.
That was what the preliminary results suggested.
I couldn't breathe when Detective Velez told me.
She explained that blood evidence alone didn't establish what had happened.
They were still investigating.
But all I heard was my brother's name.
And the word blood.
I went home.
Sat on the kitchen floor.
And cried until my throat hurt.
Our apartment was small.
Two bedrooms.
A narrow kitchen.
A living room filled with Eli's unfinished projects.
Everywhere I looked, I saw him.
His soldering tools.
His sketchbooks.
His favorite mug.
I remembered him at seven, frightened after the illness that damaged his hearing.
I remembered the first time he understood my signing.
The way his whole face changed.
I had promised I would never let him feel alone.
Now I didn't know where he was.
A knock came at the door.
Salvatore stood outside.
No bodyguards.
No entourage.
Just him.
He held a paper bag.
Inside were groceries.
Bread.
Soup.
Fruit.
I stared.
“What are you doing here?”
He signed:
You haven't eaten.
I laughed bitterly.
How would you know?
He looked at the untouched dishes visible behind me.
I stepped aside.
He entered.
For a while, we sat at the kitchen table.
I cried.
He waited.
Then I signed:
I'm scared he's dead.
Salvatore's face softened.
He reached across the table.
I know.
I looked at him.
What if I never see him again?
He hesitated.
Then signed:
Then we will still find the truth.
I shook my head.
I don't want the truth.
Tears spilled down my face.
I want my brother.
Salvatore moved closer.
He didn't offer false promises.
Didn't tell me everything would be fine.
May you like
He simply held me while I cried.
And for the first time in six days, I didn't feel completely alone.
