Singed Read Online Free PDF

American society. The kind Danny had railed against when he’d first come home from deployment. How things had changed since then.
    Claire wrapped her arms around her waist and followed him, noting the unwashed dishes in sink and on the counter, the pile of dirty laundry spilling out from his open bedroom door down the short hall off the living room. “So, how are you?” Though she could already see for herself.
    Danny settled himself back in a reclining position on the couch and gave a sullen shrug, not making eye contact. “Just another day in paradise, like always.”
    Claire fought for patience and forced herself to stand still. Mere months ago she would’ve already been running around the place like a one-woman cleaning army, washing the dishes, carting the laundry down to the washing machine in the basement. Anything to stop her big brother from living like a pig, and anything to try to save him from himself or have an excuse to avoid an awkward or confrontational conversation with him. Now that she finally understood that he was the only one who could pull himself out of this black hole, she refused to do any of it even though the state of the place gave the clean freak in her a heart attack. Hence the sullen attitude he was throwing her way, no doubt.
    “How’s your back today?” she tried in an even tone. He looked more uncomfortable than normal.
    “Same.”
    Bad, then. At least, that’s what he told everyone. Claire wasn’t convinced that his physical pain level was the true problem these days. Taking a calming breath, she eyed the array of plastic bottles lined up on the windowsill over the sink. Seven different prescription meds, some for pain, one for anxiety, others for depression and insomnia. Several more to combat the side effects of those. Put together, they represented a toxic chemical crutch that had slowly crippled her brother into the human shell he was now.
    She turned back to Danny. “When’s the last time you ate?”
    “’Bout an hour ago. Had some pizza with my oxycontin.”
    Wonderful, she thought tiredly. And there was the empty pizza box lying open beneath the coffee table as proof. He’d be asleep soon, knocked out by the chemical numbness he’d become increasingly dependent on. “Do you need anything before I go, then? I’ve had a long day, so…”
    His head turned. Those gray eyes so similar to her own stared back at her, haunted by waking nightmares he would never talk about. “Dad send you here?”
    “He texted me this morning, yeah. You talk to your caseworker today?”
    He gave a bitter chuckle. “No. Why would I? They can’t be bothered to do anything that might actually help me. I’m just a spare part they threw away and replaced as soon as I got hit by that IED.”
    She’d heard the “spare part” speech many times before. Claire resisted the urge to scrub a hand over her face or maybe pull her hair out. In spite of herself she started tidying up the tiny, cluttered kitchen, needing to give her hands something to do. “What do you want then? Company? Want me to stay and watch a movie with you or something?”
    The bleakness in his eyes sent a familiar chill up her spine. “I’m not gonna OD again, if that’s what you’re both worried about. You can go.”
    Her eyes went back to the lineup of pill bottles on the windowsill. He’d attempted suicide twice already, almost succeeding the last time before Claire had found him passed out and called 911. The ER staff had been forced to pump his stomach twice to get everything out. If she hadn’t found him when she had, he’d have been dead within the hour.
    Once again she was besieged with the sudden, savage urge to walk over and swipe those hateful bottles off the sill with one sweep of her arm, then smash them to pieces all over the kitchen floor. But she knew that wasn’t the answer. Her brother’s problems ran far deeper than addiction.
    No psychologist, counsellor or social worker at the VA assigned to