She slammed the glass down on the counter so hard it cracked.
“You’ve been judging me your whole damn life. You think you’re better because you wear a uniform, because you serve your country. News flash am nobody cares.”
I didn’t move. I’d learned long ago that reacting only fueled her.
“I’m not judging you,” I said quietly. “I just don’t want to fight.”
She laughed loud and bitter.
“You’re always so calm, like a robot. You can’t even feel normal emotions, can you?”
“Not the ones you call normal,” I said,
her face twisted.
“You’re so full of yourself.”
Mom’s voice floated in from the living room, tired and annoyed.
“Girls, it’s late. Knock it off.”
He Lauren yelled back.
“Go to bed, Mom. I’m talking to my sister.”
I rubbed my forehead. This is pointless. She stepped closer.
“You know what’s pointless? You acting like the army makes you special. You’re a glorified IT girl with a badge.”
That one hit harder than it should have. Not because it was true it wasn’t, but because it came from the one person who knew how to hit exactly where it hurt.
“Go sleep it off,” I said.
She shoved my shoulder.
“Don’t walk away from me. I know, Lauren. Say it,”
she shouted, eyes wild.
“Say you’re not better than me.”
The argument was starting to sound like static in my ears. The training part of my brain calm procedural took over. Assess, deescalate, disengage. But there’s only so much logic can do when the other person’s drunk and unhinged. Then in one reckless motion, she grabbed a screwdriver from the toolbox Peter had left on the counter earlier. For a split second, I thought she was bluffing. She wasn’t. The pain hit before I even realized what happened. A white hot flash in my shoulder, sharp and shocking. The air left my lungs in a sound I didn’t recognize as my own. I stumbled back, clutching the wound, my hand coming away slick with blood. Lauren froze, eyes wide, like she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. Then mom’s voice came again, muffled by distance.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” Lauren screamed, panic in her voice.
I dropped to one knee, dizzy, vision tunneling.
“You stabbed me,” I said, more out of disbelief than anything else.
She stepped back, shaking her head.
“No, no, no. It was an accident.”
Mom appeared in the doorway, hair messy, still in her robe.
“What’s going on?”
“She’s fine,” Lauren yelled, voice cracking. “She’s being dramatic again.”
Mom looked at me at the blood on my shirt, then back at Lauren.
“Lauren, what did you”
“It was an accident,” Lauren repeated, tears streaming now.
Peter appeared behind them, half asleep.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?”
