Later that night, I walk into the kitchen to find Beth chasing Jackson around the counter. He’s multi-tasking as he goes, filling a baggy with ice and pressing it to his face.

“Let me see it,” she says.

“Don’t touch me,” Jackson replies.

“What’d he do to you?!” Beth says. “Show me. What’d he do?”

“Nothing. I’ll deal with it.”

“Jackson. Let me see.”

He sighs and pulls the ice away. Not only does he have a split lip, there’s a long gash across his forehead. I’ve seen Jackson get beat up like this before, and it’s always from Nate, the sketchy dealer he buys pills from. You’d think he would’ve learned by now, but he just seems to be buying more and more, even when he’s telling me to be strong.

Beth doesn’t say anything when she gets a good look at him. She just shakes her head and storms up the stairs. When Jackson goes after her, I crawl onto the living room couch and flip on the TV. There has to be something I can do which doesn’t involve scamming sad people out of money, but a girl with only two years of college doesn’t really have a lot of choices. Flipping burgers? Waitressing? Retail?

I cover my face with the blanket and close my eyes, hoping that sleep will help. The phone rings in the next room. I don’t answer it. Footsteps stomp down the stairs. A few seconds later I hear Jackson’s voice: “Sayers Medium Service.” He listens. “Yeah. No, we’re available. Who told you that?”

Shit. I walk to the doorway and peer into the kitchen, watching Jackson’s face knot in frustration. Something thunks upstairs. There’s banging. Loud claps. “What’re you doing?” Jackson shouts up the stairs. He hangs up the phone and eyes me. “I want to talk to you,” he says.

Behind him, Beth lugs her suitcase down the steps, her jacket and purse under one arm. “I’m going,” Beth says.

“Going?” Jackson says. There’s panic in his voice. “Where?”

“New York. With or without you. I told you I’m done with this.”

“He’ll follow me. He’s got people there.” Jackson goes to Beth, but she pulls away, her lips drawn in a thin, red line.

“Without you then,” she says, opening the door.

He grabs the suitcase from her, trying to calm her down. It’s hard to see my brother this way. I know how much Beth means to him.

“Wait. Hey. One more gig, alright?” Jackson says.

Beth sighs. “I’m through, Jackson. I can’t stay here. It isn’t a life.”

“That was a really big call just now. Gonna pay us double our quote.”