Take Care, Sara

Sara!” he thundered, storming toward her. “You don’t ever say that again, you understand?” Lincoln’s voice shook. “Stop saying it, stop thinking it.” His fingers dug into her arms, showing her she wasn’t dead, not yet.
    “I’m lost. I’m lost and you can’t save me, Lincoln.” Sara stared up into his pained eyes, caressing his features with her gaze. He was always trying to save her.
    His jaw clenched and his grip turned painful. “Yes. I can. I will . I just lost my brother. I’m not losing you too. I’m never losing you, Sara, never . I’m not letting you go. Ever . Your life is worth living. You don’t get the right to throw that away.”
    The conviction of Lincoln’s words, the way his eyes were locked on hers, nearly made Sara believe he could, that Lincoln had the power to save her, to hold on to her tight enough that she wouldn’t be lost, wouldn’t fade into nothing, wouldn’t burn up and disintegrate. She almost hated him for it.
    ***
    Everywhere Sara looked she was hit with something that reminded her of him. She sat on the couch, an untouched cup of coffee cooling between her fingers. It was heavy and she set it down on the coffee table. Lincoln was in the bedroom that used to be his parents’, fixing it up for her to sleep in. They had gotten a hotel room, refusing to stay in the house full of him. Sara understood. This house was close to being as unbearable to be in as hers was.
    The meltdown outside was a locked subject. Hours ago, it still replayed over and over in her head; the look on Lincoln’s face, the fierceness in his tone; the overwhelming despondency that was with her now even. He’d brought her back from the brink once again. But he wouldn’t always be around. Lincoln wasn’t responsible for her. He thought he was, but he wasn’t.
    Her eyes shied from the framed photographs hanging on the walls of Lincoln and him growing up, and then went back to them anyway. Her breath shuddered as her throat tightened. Sara covered her face with her hands, unable to cry, which should have been a relief, but it wasn’t because she was overflowing with grief and had no way to release it.
    How could he be gone? Agony had wrapped its arms of heartache around her and wouldn’t let her go. Sara understood how her mother had died of a broken heart. Why wasn’t she worthy of the same? She didn’t want to live without him; she didn’t want to exist when he didn’t.
    The stairs creaked, alerting her Lincoln was near. Sara dropped her hands from her face. Seeing his grief-stricken eyes pulled a choking sound from her. He didn’t speak for a long time. And when he did, Lincoln’s voice was gruff with emotion.
    “I got the bed ready.”
    She nodded, her throat tightening.
    Lincoln blinked his eyes, angling his body and face away from her. “I sat in his room for a while.” He inhaled sharply. “I remember one time when I was five, I had a bad dream. I woke up screaming, scared. Cole came in, told me a story about baseball until I wasn’t afraid anymore. He always did stuff like that. He always looked out for me.” His hands fisted and opened, fisted and opened.
    “Lincoln—“
    “A part of me is gone, Sara. A part of my childhood, a part of my world is just…gone.” Lincoln stared at her, not really seeing her, but maybe seeing enough. “I thought he would get better, at first. How stupid is that? I really thought he would get better. Why wasn’t he strong enough to get better? And then…and then I knew he wouldn’t and I was so pissed at him. I was so angry at him.”
    Sara slowly rose to her feet. “I’m sorry.”
    His eyes narrowed as his lips thinned. “It’s not your fault. I never said it was your fault. I never hinted it was your fault. It’s not your fault, Sara! ” Lincoln slammed a fist into the wall beside him, knocking a picture loose and causing Sara to flinch. The glass shattered as it hit the wood floor. “ Fuck .”
    Lincoln fell to his knees, hanging his head. She looked down at him, feeling helpless. He was so strong and so fragile at the same time. She had to do something. Seeing him like this, it hurt. Lincoln’s pain on top of her pain was devastating. Sara went to her knees beside him, staring in misery at the toothless gray-eyed boy grinning at her from a picture with shattered glass over it. That boy was gone; that boy would never come back. She put her hand on his back, feeling the muscles tremble beneath her fingers. Lincoln