I think Katie's favourite colour was pink, but I couldn't remember. It may have been blue, like the sky she was so intrigued by. Or it may have been orange. She was always painting her nails orange. There were flecks of it all over our kitchen table at home. My mom always told her to paint her nails somewhere else. Katie never listened.

I was thinking that maybe her favourite colour was yellow when I walked back into my apartment after Eden left in the elevator. I shut the door behind me. The sound of it banging echoed through the small space, but I couldn't really hear it. I was thinking of yellow: Katie always wore this yellow sweater. It was knit, with a hole at the neck. My dad tried to sew it once, but it only made it bigger.

I was sitting on the couch then, thinking that maybe her favourite colour was red. And then I was thinking of Eden, and that night in the closet when she was wearing that devil costume. I was thinking of her lips, red. Her dress, red. Her hands around my neck, making me see red.

I didn't see it, but Katie's blood was red too. When she flew through the windshield and landed on the road. Red. Everywhere. My dad said it took the ambulance seven minutes to arrive. Traffic stopped when the cars hit. I think the whole world may have stopped as she lay there, dying but not really dying yet.

Santana was at the table now. Her mouth was moving, and she was packing up the food. She was angry. She should be angry. Her hair was flying into her face the way she hated but she was too upset to notice. Her hair was red, too.

I remembered what it felt like when I got the phone call.

I remember what it felt like to kiss Eden in that closet. It felt like, for once, something good had happened to me. And then I was outside and my phone rang. It was my mom. She was crying, screaming. It took her a minute to even get the words out. "Accident" was what she said first. Then, "Katie." I fell to the ground sometime after that.

And then I was staring into Eden's eyes, wondering how I just felt like I could breathe for the first time, and now I was kneeling on the grass, drowning.

Santana was standing in front of me now, clapping her hands in front of my face. She was screaming. Her hair was like fire, blowing around. It was red, but I was thinking of how white the hospital walls were when I walked in with Eden. I remember blinking against how bright it all was. It smelt clean. Too clean.

I remember seeing my mom standing at the end of the hall, wrapped against my dad. I could hear her crying as soon as the elevator doors opened. I didn't like to hear her cry. It was like her heart was shattering inside her, and the pieces were using her mouth to break free.

I knew that's how she felt, because it was how I felt.

Santana finished yelling now. She sank onto the couch beside me, covering her head with her hands. I think she may have been crying, but my mind was stuck in that hospital room.

I remember walking into Katie's room with Eden beside me. We had to wait almost six hours to see her, twelve counting while she was in surgery. I don't remember how many bones she broke or what they were called. But I do remember how it felt to stand there and see my little sister laying in front of me. There were too many bandaids. They covered her face, her arms, her hands and her ankles.

I only knew it was Katie because two of her fingers were sticking out. Her nails were orange.

Eden was crying beside me. This time she sank to the ground first, and I was the one to lift her up. I didn't look at her though. I couldn't look at her. Not then. Not after what happened. So I walked to Katie and I held those two fingers. I didn't say anything. I couldn't find the words—they wouldn't come.

I looked over now on the couch and Santana was gone. She left the door to my apartment open. And it was like she wasn't there to begin with.

I closed my eyes, rested my head against the couch. The sun was too bright, but I blocked it out.

I knew the exact night Santana was talking about. The night I cheated on her. It was a Monday. It was raining. I woke up that morning to call her but my phone was dead, so I left it in the dorm to charge while I went to class.

I wasn't good at school. It all seemed pointless, learning while Katie would probably never learn anything again. We never think about what we're going to know when we die. Or we wish we could've known. But I was the older brother. I was supposed to protect her. I was supposed to know everything. I should have been the one in the car that night, not her. That's the way it should have been.

I remember class ending and returning to my dorm. I grabbed my phone and it was my mom calling, she had left five messages already. I answered and she was crying, going on about Katie and how she'd never wake up.

That was the thing about my mom. She was strong, made of silk and steel. But there were times when her world came crashing down around her too, and she became buried in the aftermath. And so she'd call me, once a week, and cry about how Katie would never open her eyes. Then she'd call me again the next morning, apologizing for sinking that low.

"We all sink sometimes" is what I'd tell her. Grief was like that: quicksand, pulling you under.

After I hung up the phone, I cried. I called Santana but she didn't answer. I drank a beer but it only made the world seem worse. Then I went across the hall, and there was a party in one of the dorm rooms. All I could think about was how the walls were painted blue, and how Katie loved blue. And then there was a girl, and she was touching my arm, standing too close. She was wearing this red dress that made her look like Eden. And this song was playing, and it was the song that was blaring outside the party that night when my phone rang.

And then it was morning, the sun was coming in from the window in her bedroom. The girl's red dress was on the floor. She was laying beside me, and she was naked. And the only thing I could wrap my head around was that everything hurt less when I was asleep. After that, it was killing me. All of it.

I remember tiptoeing out of her bedroom and back to mine. I called Santana and told her everything. I apologized. I told her I was having a night, which was code for I was feeling worse than usual. And the usual was already bad enough. Santana forgave me for cheating. She wasn't even upset.

But today she was upset. Today she used my low points to push Eden away. And I wanted to be upset. I wanted to yell back. I wanted to fight for Eden, but all I could think about was that I wasn't entirely sure what my sister's favourite fucking colour was and that, maybe, I'd never know.

So I let Eden leave. I let Santana leave. I let everyone leave and I sat on that couch and went through every colour of the rainbow and decided that blue was her favourite. Then I convinced myself that it was true.

I finally stood up.

I shut the door.

______________

warning: i wrote this at 2am in like 15 minutes so i'm not sure it entirely makes sense to anyone but me. you know how sometimes, when you're angry and the world is too much, it feels like you're watching your life from the outside?

that's what Truman was going through. he was present, but he wasn't really there. anyway, lmk your thoughts! thanks for reading! ❤️