Status: completed <3
Photos From A Dying Time
02
I hated this. My sister in my house. Every day for two weeks she cleaned, not saying one thing to me. All I could do was curl up on the couch with a pillow and watch, as she moved about humming some song. I didn't want her here. I liked being alone, considering that's what I deserved. That's what they do to bad people, put them in solitary confinement.
When she was done cleaning, she threw out all my foot and drinks, and went shopping. After the two hour mark passed on the clock, I thought she had left, and for the first time in months felt a small twinge of happiness. Which was crushed an hour later when she appeared, a receipt as long as my height was tall.
“Do I even want to know how much?”
“Shut up and help carry things in.” She replied a large smile on her face. I regrettably got up from my position on the couch and slumped out to the car, where thirty-seven bags waited. I picked up a few, carrying them into the kitchen. “Good good, now get the rest, I'm going to start putting it all away.”
The week after her food extravaganza we sat on the couch watching some movie she had bought earlier that day. I couldn't remember what it was called, but I hated every second of it. It was too...happy. I do remember jumping up and ripping the cord out from the wall, the television shutting down instantly.
“What is wrong with you, Harlie!” She yelled flying up from her seat. “Why can't you just be happy! I'm trying my damnedest to be happy for you, to make you happy, and you keep shooting me down!”
“It's hard to feel happy, when you're the reason your only child is rotting the ground next to some eighty year old man!” I yelled in return. I felt my chest clench as I fought the tears and sobs the vibrated through my bones. I glanced at her, seeing her face looking sallow and worn for the first time since the funeral.
“Honey, it's not your fault. You couldn't have helped what happened. There is no way you could have stopped the drunk from getting in his car that night, and you couldn't have stopped your husband from taking the long way home. Life is unpredictable.” She whispered as she walked over to me, her arms pulling me into a hug as we fell to the floor. The tears felt like they the day I woke up and heard the news of my baby girl. “She adored you and wouldn't want you this torn up. She'd want you happy, trying to live your life. Riley was your angel, and she's still watching you, just from somewhere better.”
We stayed like that, on the floor, grasping each other as if it was the end of the world, all night. The next morning we went to visit Luke in the hospital. He was in a coma, and had been for six months, six terribly long and lonely months. The doctor walked in, obviously happy to see we were finally back. “You'll be glad to know, we found some brain activity these last few weeks, and it's slowly increasing. We're hoping big things will happen, and a possible full recovery.” I nodded. Jenna gripped my hand, smiling widely.
He died a week later, a seizure completely disseminating any hope of his recovery.
Jenn didn't even complain when I curled up in our bed for the first time in months and cried.
When she was done cleaning, she threw out all my foot and drinks, and went shopping. After the two hour mark passed on the clock, I thought she had left, and for the first time in months felt a small twinge of happiness. Which was crushed an hour later when she appeared, a receipt as long as my height was tall.
“Do I even want to know how much?”
“Shut up and help carry things in.” She replied a large smile on her face. I regrettably got up from my position on the couch and slumped out to the car, where thirty-seven bags waited. I picked up a few, carrying them into the kitchen. “Good good, now get the rest, I'm going to start putting it all away.”
The week after her food extravaganza we sat on the couch watching some movie she had bought earlier that day. I couldn't remember what it was called, but I hated every second of it. It was too...happy. I do remember jumping up and ripping the cord out from the wall, the television shutting down instantly.
“What is wrong with you, Harlie!” She yelled flying up from her seat. “Why can't you just be happy! I'm trying my damnedest to be happy for you, to make you happy, and you keep shooting me down!”
“It's hard to feel happy, when you're the reason your only child is rotting the ground next to some eighty year old man!” I yelled in return. I felt my chest clench as I fought the tears and sobs the vibrated through my bones. I glanced at her, seeing her face looking sallow and worn for the first time since the funeral.
“Honey, it's not your fault. You couldn't have helped what happened. There is no way you could have stopped the drunk from getting in his car that night, and you couldn't have stopped your husband from taking the long way home. Life is unpredictable.” She whispered as she walked over to me, her arms pulling me into a hug as we fell to the floor. The tears felt like they the day I woke up and heard the news of my baby girl. “She adored you and wouldn't want you this torn up. She'd want you happy, trying to live your life. Riley was your angel, and she's still watching you, just from somewhere better.”
We stayed like that, on the floor, grasping each other as if it was the end of the world, all night. The next morning we went to visit Luke in the hospital. He was in a coma, and had been for six months, six terribly long and lonely months. The doctor walked in, obviously happy to see we were finally back. “You'll be glad to know, we found some brain activity these last few weeks, and it's slowly increasing. We're hoping big things will happen, and a possible full recovery.” I nodded. Jenna gripped my hand, smiling widely.
He died a week later, a seizure completely disseminating any hope of his recovery.
Jenn didn't even complain when I curled up in our bed for the first time in months and cried.
♠ ♠ ♠
2/3