“Seriously, no hospital? Do you want me to whip up some liver for you? It’s good for blood.”
He glared at me, exasperated. “Aren’t you going to ask if it hurts?”
“Oh. So, does it hurt?”
“…” Cole turned his face away. “Boring.”
“Big sister, do you… do you think I’m useless?” he suddenly asked. “I studied art for ten years, but I still hate it. The smell of paint makes me want to throw up.”
“Big sister, am I a complete failure?”
Cole’s eyes brimmed with tears, glistening.
I couldn’t help myself. I pulled him into a hug, gently patting his back. “It’s okay. Little puppies just need to eat and sleep well, and grow up big and strong.”
He was silent for a moment, then sighed, a sound of resigned amusement. “You really do treat me like a dog, don’t you, big sister?”
Cole promised me he’d try to sleep properly. We tried countless methods and over–the–counter remedies, but nothing worked.
It was the middle of the night again when I heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass from his room. I sprinted over. “Cole, what happen- ed?”
“Don’t come in!”
Chapter 2
14.52
