Chapter 15
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Charley’s heart surged with hope. His voice trembled as he rushed out, “Mr. Huynh–please, you know where Erma is, don’t you? Just tell me–please…”
But the voice on the other end stayed calm–and cut him off coldly, “Charley, I only answered to say this:
“after what you did a few days ago, there’s no way I’m telling you anything about Erma or Mr. Diaz.
“So don’t bother asking.”
Charley’s panic rose. “I swear–I won’t interfere with her treatment. I just….
“I just need to know she’s okay. I’m really worried about her.
“Her heart isn’t in great shape–I once heard her telling a doctor she often feels like she can’t breathe.”
Marlin’s tone darkened. “I’ve seen her medical file. Her heart is fine.
“What’s causing her shortness of breath is something else–severe, recurring depression. It’s been going on for years.”
Charley instinctively pushed back. “No… that can’t be right.
“She’s been doing fine these last few years–there’s no way she has some kind of mental illness-”
But halfway through, his voice faltered.
Had she really been “fine“?
He thought back over the past seven years. Erma had always seemed hollow, listless.
Her face pale, her eyes dull, as if nothing in the world could reach her.
She barely spoke anymore. She stopped caring about him altogether.
When he blamed her or lashed out, she just looked at him with that blank, emotionless expression.
Even when they fought–and it was rare–she’d always fall silent in the end, like she didn’t have the strength to argue back.
He had always assumed she was sick. Physically sick.
That was why he’d wanted Marlin to take a look at her.
But he’d never really stopped to consider that what she was dealing with wasn’t physical at all. It was emotional. Psychological.
Then Marlin’s voice came again, low and heavy.
“Post–traumatic stress disorder. Major depression.
“It started seven years ago.
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Chapter 15
“She never told you–because she didn’t want to add to your pain. She knew you were already grieving your parents. She didn’t want to make it worse.”
He paused. “Charley… did it ever cross your mind that she lost them too? That she was hurting just as much?”
The voice on the other end started to fade, growing more distant, but every word hit like a blow.
“You dumped all your pain and anger onto her.
“But what about her? What about her guilt, her grief–the crushing weight of having been there when your parents died, right in front of her?
“For all these years… who has she had to turn to?”
All that pain, with nowhere to go, had sunk into her chest–layer by layer, year after year–until it became something too heavy to carry.
Charley suddenly felt unsteady on his feet.
Then came Marlin’s voice, clear and direct. “There’s a full chat log from seven years ago.
“Erma stayed home to plan your birthday party.
“She couldn’t have known an earthquake would hit. She’s not a prophet.
“The real question is–have you truly never believed that?
“Or have you just never wanted to accept that your parents‘ death might have something to do with you too?
“So instead, you looked away and blamed it all on Erma–called her selfish and reckless, said she caused their deaths.”
That paper–thin denial he’d clung to for years–finally, it tore.
And underneath, the pain hit him like a blade to the chest–raw, exposed, impossible to ignore.
He had never been able to accept it.
That there was no one to blame. No clear villain.
That what took their parents was just a cruel, random tragedy.
Marlin let out a quiet sigh. “All these years, Erma has suffered more than you know.
“You say you’re worried about her. But really–have you ever actually been worried for her?
“Have you ever thought, just once, that maybe she couldn’t take it either?”
The call faded in his ears, replaced by the echo of his own cruelty,
Words he had thrown at her, over and over.
“Erma, why wasn’t it you who died?”
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Chapter 15
“Why are you still alive?”
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So many times over the years–She’d gotten food poisoning. Nearly drowned. Fallen off a cliff.
Accidents, he told himself. But were they really?
No. No… they weren’t.
He had never been able to cope with their parents‘ deaths.
So he’d turned his rage and grief on the one person they’d died trying to protect–his sister.
Again and again, he lashed out. Stabbed her with blame, with silence, with unforgivable words. She was the only family he had left.
And he had made her bear the weight of all the pain he couldn’t carry.
Not once did he stop to think–They should’ve leaned on each other. Grieved together. Healed together.
He never let himself remember–she was just fifteen when it happened.
And over the past seven years, she had been living in a kind of hell he’d never even tried to understand.
Charley crumpled to the floor, hands over his face, sobbing uncontrollably.
And in that moment, he knew: She wasn’t coming back.
She’d gone abroad. And this time–for good. She had finally, completely let him go.
He had lost his parents.
And now, through his own hands, he had lost his sister–the girl who once looked at him like he was her whole world.
