Not Afraid to Die

"How is she?" a breathless voice asked.

"I don't know yet," the other returned, fatigue clear in the sagging words.

The girl in the hospital bed tilted her head to the side, staring at the closed door from which the words floated. Mischief danced in her moss green eyes. They didn't know she could hear them. They never did seem to know she could. Hospital walls were no where near thick enough to blot out all sounds. In all honesty, they should have learned by now. She had been in the hospital enough times.

But she did enjoy listening in on their conversations.

"Is she conscious?" the voice of the breathless male asked.

"Lolita has been bouncing around in the bed since she got here," the fatigued one answered, slight annoyance mixed into his tone.

A giggle struggled to leave the girl's throat, only to be held in with ferocity. She had been bouncing in bed much to her father's displeasure. Due to the vomiting fit and extreme headache she experienced that morning, the doctor had assumed she would either be unconscious from pain or sleeping it off. Of course, she did what they didn't expect her to do.

She did neither.

"Sounds like her," the voice had finally regained proper breathing.

Lolita smiled at the loving tone behind the simple string of words. Her brother understood her. Never completely but enough to find her odd behaviors precious. She appreciated that quality in him. The true reason behind it all may have been the want to savor every moment with her, not argue like most siblings, but she loved it nonetheless.

No noise came from behind the door. Her older brother and her father were likely sitting in each other's company, content with silence. They did that. Love of silence was something the two bonded over. Lolita didn't understand it. Silence was so suffocating, too similar to death. There was no enjoyment to be found in that.

"You can go see her if you'd like," the fatigued voice said.

There was another moment of silence before her door was pushed open. In the doorway, smiling warmly, stood her older brother. He had an arm behind his back, hiding whatever present he decided to bring or make for her. Lolita smiled at him from her spot on the hospital bed, a broad toothy smile that she had grown accustomed to flashing.

"How are you doing, love?" he asked, allowing the door to close behind him.

"Spectacular," Lolita replied, bouncing in her bed for added effect, her pink and black hair moving with her.

"I hear you had quite the vomiting fit this morning."

"Well, Dante, you would have a vomiting fit too if you had to deal with a Calculus final."

Dante shot her a knowing look. Despite her hatred toward math, she had a knack for it. Sure, she wouldn't do more than asked and complained about it often, but she understood it and could do it well if she decided to do it.

Dante pulled his arm from behind his back, one of his many cloth creations in his hand, "I guess this guy can help you get over your traumatic experience."

Excitement coursed through her system, "Let me see him."

Chuckling, Dante handed the creature to his younger sibling. Lolita held it at eye-level, studying the bunny-like creation. With quick movements, she clutched the stuffed animal to her chest.

"I love it. Thank you," Lolita said.

"I figured you would," Dante took a seat at the foot of her bed, "So when do you get out?"

Lolita shrugged, "I don't know." Her attention shifted to the tray next to her bed, "Do you want my bread roll?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"It’s a bread roll. That's what's wrong with it."

Lolita had a tendency to be picky about food. But she felt completely justified in being picky. Her days were numbered by the infection destroying her system. Each meal should be one she enjoyed since she didn't know exactly when she would die.

Estimates on future time of death were still pending.

"I guess I'll take it," Dante said.

He was her human food disposal. Even before she understood HIV, Dante would eat the food she didn't want and made the food she enjoyed in replacement. He wasn't the one to oversee her health on a daily basis. He was her brother and acted as such. She couldn't have asked for a better brother.

Too bad he didn't live at home anymore. She could hand off her carrots to him.

Lolita leaned over to grab the roll and handed it to Dante. Not bothering to inspect the food, Dante took a large bite out of it, only half the roll intact after. His sister wouldn't poison him.

"You have no idea when you're getting out?" Dante asked, finishing the roll with one final bite.

"Nope. Why?"

She could get out within the hour or she could get out in a few weeks. She didn't ask. There never seemed to be a point in asking. The doctors would let her go when they saw fit.

"Because Dad called in the middle of recording—"

Lolita cut him off, "You were recording today?"

"Just some demos. Nothing that important."

"If your fans are going to hear it, it's important."

"Not more important than making sure my sister gets out of the hospital alive."

"I always get out of the hospital alive, silly."

"Yeah, well, I should be here," Dante said, "Anyway, dad called in the middle of recording to tell me you were in the hospital and to ask me to take care of you while he's on his book tour."

"When is that again?"

"He leaves tomorrow."

"Really? Man, I am way off on today's date."

"Do you ever know what day it is?"

"Should I?"

"It’s a good thing to know."

"But it seems so pointless."

"You just don't like numbers."

"Maybe."

Numbers were never good to her. They limited the years on her life, limited the amounts of junk food she could eat, limited how long she could leave the house. She could live her life just fine without them.

But without numbers, she wouldn’t have her medications that kept her alive. She wouldn't have a birthday, a goal to live till every year. Numbers had a positive side, one she tended to forget when they were involved in math or dates.

She tried to keep the positives in mind. There was no use in getting upset with symbols made to tell various types of quantity. Life was too short to be consumed in number hatred.

Math, on the other hand, deserved every ounce of hatred she could muster.

"Tell Dorian that next time you see him. He'll be devastated," Dante said.

"I haven't seen your band mates in two years."

"Two years and two months," Dante clarified.

"Whatever."

"There's a meeting today. You're always welcome."

Another surge of excitement rushed through Lolita's veins, "I'd like that."

The hospital room door opened again, grasping the attention of the siblings. A man with thick brown hair walked into the room, shoulders slouched, emerald eyes shining with exhaustion. He sent a tired smile toward Dante.

"Daddy," Lolita squealed, bouncing in her bed.

"Sit still, Lolita," he commanded, "You'll pull your IV out."

From the corner of her eyes, Lolita could see her older brother shiver. Needles had always been his worst enemy. Since their mother was infected, he refused shots of all kinds. Surgeries hadn't been something he ever needed, and he made sure he stayed healthy. IVs were never part of his yearly regime. Lolita almost felt jealous of him because of that. But he had seen their mother go through the phases of the virus with minimal treatments. He had seen her crawling deeper into her grave with each day.

Memories. They could cause so much damage to a developing mind.

Lolita pouted, jutting her lower lip out in an exaggerated fashion, "But, daddy."

"No, Lolita."

Giggles tried to force their way from her throat. She held them down, keeping the exaggerated pout on her face. This game was fun, though she was sure her father didn't know he was wrapped up in her entertainment.

"Daddy, what if I die today? I don't want the last thing I do to involve sitting still," Lolita said.

"I assure you, you won't die until you've run me ragged," her father returned.

Forced tears perked in her moss green eyes, "Daddy."

A tattered sigh pushed past his lips, "If I promise to get you a soda, will you sit still?"

All signs of sadness disappeared from her face, replaced with a bright smile, "Sure."

"You just got played," Dante commented, smirking.

Lolita was something else.