“It just runs in the family,” she said. “Something we’ve all inherited.”
Some inheritances are money. Some are houses. Some are eyes the color of the ocean. And some are shadows that follow you everywhere you go.
By 2015, Sawyer and Sullivan were 19. They owned a house together in California. Still inseparable. Still sharing everything like they had in the womb.
That April, they went to Texas to visit their aunt. Her house sat on a quiet street in Austin. Pool in the back. Family gathering downstairs. The kind of place where good memories get made.
On April 23rd, something shifted inside Sawyer’s mind.
Maybe it was the depression talking. Maybe it was pain he’d carried for years. Maybe it was just Tuesday, and Tuesday felt like too much.
He went upstairs while everyone else laughed and talked below.
Sullivan was in the house. The brother who’d shared everything with him since before they were born. The other half of his whole.
But sometimes, even twins can’t reach each other.
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