My Life As Sienna Brown
Part 121
He cursed and his body started to shake uncontrolably, but he still kept his back to me, making it seem like he was talking to Heather. "Frank... I- I can't do this. I can't! I need her! Heather, wake up... God damn... wake up..."
I grabbed his shoulder, trying to let him know that I understood how he was feeling. "Don't you want to see your kid," I asked quietly, trying to change the subject.
"Frank... Is this my fault," he asked hoarsly, going back to his subject.
"What? No- Mikey, that's crazy talk. It's not your fault- don't say that. Don't even think that!"
I took enough courage to finally look down at the pale face or our former friend. People say that people look asleep when they're dead. They're wrong- they look dead. Heather's hair formed messily around her face in a manner I know she would have never allowed, and her face, where the colour had escaped, heald a meloncholy expression that seemed almost graceful. As if she were in a troubled dream. A dream she would now never wake up from.
"What am I going to do now," Mikey sobbed, turning around to finally face me. I looked away imediately, feeling intimidated by his troubled eyes. He was looking to me for an answer- and my answers were pretty shitty.
"Common- let's get you washed up," I said and walked over to the nearest washroom, turning on the sink for his to shove his hands under. I watched, seeming hypnotized as the blood ran down the drain in a red river, seeming almost like a memory washing out of our minds.
"Here- I'll give you my sweater," I instructed, telling him to change his shirt as he pulled it over his head slowly and throwing the blood-stained material in the nearest garbage can before I handed him my black pull-over.
He looked up at me and I almost had the urge to smile- but I didn't. I didn't want to make it seem like I didn't care. Poeple probably already thought that enough about me, since Heather and I had previously not gotten along that well. I'm glad we'd gotten through that phase.
"Common," I insisted. "Let's go see your kid. Let the nurses do their job here," I said quietly, leading him out of the room and freezing in the hall, looking down at Sienna in the small plastic chair. I jestured for her to get up and follow us. She looked up from her hands and her tears seemed to have made a temporary mascara on her lashes. She stood up and hugged me tightly, breathing heavily into the fabric of my t-shirt.
I wouldn't dare say that it would be alright. I knew it would be- eventually. But it would take time, and for now... everything seemed like it would be anything but alright...
I grabbed his shoulder, trying to let him know that I understood how he was feeling. "Don't you want to see your kid," I asked quietly, trying to change the subject.
"Frank... Is this my fault," he asked hoarsly, going back to his subject.
"What? No- Mikey, that's crazy talk. It's not your fault- don't say that. Don't even think that!"
I took enough courage to finally look down at the pale face or our former friend. People say that people look asleep when they're dead. They're wrong- they look dead. Heather's hair formed messily around her face in a manner I know she would have never allowed, and her face, where the colour had escaped, heald a meloncholy expression that seemed almost graceful. As if she were in a troubled dream. A dream she would now never wake up from.
"What am I going to do now," Mikey sobbed, turning around to finally face me. I looked away imediately, feeling intimidated by his troubled eyes. He was looking to me for an answer- and my answers were pretty shitty.
"Common- let's get you washed up," I said and walked over to the nearest washroom, turning on the sink for his to shove his hands under. I watched, seeming hypnotized as the blood ran down the drain in a red river, seeming almost like a memory washing out of our minds.
"Here- I'll give you my sweater," I instructed, telling him to change his shirt as he pulled it over his head slowly and throwing the blood-stained material in the nearest garbage can before I handed him my black pull-over.
He looked up at me and I almost had the urge to smile- but I didn't. I didn't want to make it seem like I didn't care. Poeple probably already thought that enough about me, since Heather and I had previously not gotten along that well. I'm glad we'd gotten through that phase.
"Common," I insisted. "Let's go see your kid. Let the nurses do their job here," I said quietly, leading him out of the room and freezing in the hall, looking down at Sienna in the small plastic chair. I jestured for her to get up and follow us. She looked up from her hands and her tears seemed to have made a temporary mascara on her lashes. She stood up and hugged me tightly, breathing heavily into the fabric of my t-shirt.
I wouldn't dare say that it would be alright. I knew it would be- eventually. But it would take time, and for now... everything seemed like it would be anything but alright...