Words, Words, Words

I’m completely and utterly shocked.

Everyone always had their suspicions about Amelia. In seven years, she dropped and gained weight so quickly, it was obvious something was wrong. She’d never eat a full meal and after almost everything she ate, she’d excuse herself to the bathroom. It was questionable but after Tom tried to talk to her – failing miserably and almost losing his best friend – everyone chose to stay away from the subject and hope for the best.

It was never confirmed, though, that was a fact that everyone knew. Amelia had never opened up to anyone about her problem. Seven years, these secret she had followed her constantly, making her grow even more distant to the outside world within every passing moment.

But now that I had caught her, there was no denying it any longer.

I sit on the bathroom floor, my colorful, tattooed hand resting gently on her olive toned one. My eyes are glued onto her as I ask how long this problem has persisted – acting as if I don’t know in hopes it will comfort her. But as the words vacantly fall from my mouth, I can’t help but want to rush out of the bathroom and yell for Tom.

How am I supposed to deal with this? I know exactly what she’s going to say; that I’m the cause of it. And it’s undeniable that I am. But if I can’t help but snap when my younger brother calls me out on it, what the hell am I going to do when Amelia openly admits to my mistakes herself?

I’m about to find out.

“Since I met you,” She whispers, her eyes staring at our hands. Those are the words. Those are the four words that should make me mad, make me snap and start to yell in hopes that it’ll somehow change her mind about me; in hopes that if I defend myself well enough with enough edge, maybe she’ll blame somebody else.

But anger doesn’t come. I’m not frustrated, in a rage. I’m not mad, wanting to yell and scream and lie to her or myself for my own sake. The negative emotions that I’m waiting for seem distant and all I feel is sympathy – for me.

“I’m sorry,” I say. My voice cracks under all the pressure I’m in as I keep my sad gaze on her. She’s a wreck, her skin pale, her eyes, glazed over with some kind of depressing emptiness. She looks up, right into my hazel eyes for a minute as I stare back into hers. And I see her break; I see the catastrophe known as Hurricane Amelia start.

“Why?” She asks, tears welling up in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. “Why me? Why did you choose to torture me? What did I do that got you so angry that you had to lash out on me for seven years?”

Her small voice is breathy and she takes a pause every few words to whimper or sob. She wipes away a few tears here and there, but they keep multiplying faster than she can control. I stare at her, bewildered, my eyes wide and my mouth slightly ajar.

“I tried to be nice so many times, to make peace between us. But every time, you rejected me in the most heart-breaking ways. You made those cruel jokes and said so many nasty, small, witty comments about my appearance and I just couldn’t take it; not from you,” She opens up, her eyes now avoiding my burning stare.

“It’s pathetic to admit, but you have this way about you that makes me actually give a shit about what you think of me. I don’t understand it,” She mumbles, barely audible between all the sad squeaks and noises she’s making.

Finally, with a tear-stained face and with big, sad eyes, Amelia looks at me, biting her lower lip. I can tell she’s waiting for me to say something meaningful and poetic, something that she can really forgive me for. But I can’t think of anything to say.

“Oliver, please just tell me that it’s over,” She sighs, wiping her eyes with one hand and gripping one of my hands with her free one. “Just lie to me now and tell me it’s over. Tell me you’ll take me as I am so I can stop what I’m doing. It’s painful, Oliver. It’s painful and life-consuming. I don’t know if I can take it for much longer.”

My arms are numb but somehow I get them to wrap themselves around Amelia’s thin, shaking body and pull her towards me. She hides her face in my chest as she begins violently sobbing, weeping, “I can’t take it. Please, Oliver, please stop it. I can’t take it. Lie to me, make me happy for now. Please.”

I’m so overwhelmed, I don’t notice my own tears falling, soaking my cheeks and neck as I rock mine and Amelia’s body softly. My hand gently rubs her back as she continues crying, her tears seeping through my shirt.

“Save me, Oliver Scott Sykes. Save me.”