Status: I've got lots of stories on the go at the moment, but if I get lots of comments and/or subscriptions I'll update more often! Even if I don't I'll still update though, 'cause I like writing
Talk to Me
Sister
Gerard must've left by now. I've been listening to music for half an hour, even the most curious of people wouldn't hang around that long just to try and talk to me again. I walk to my sisters room. Opening the door, I expect to see Eliza lying on her bed, in a room full of medical equipment, like she's been since she got moved back into our house. Instead, I see Gerard standing over her.
"What the fuck are you doing here! Get out! Who gave you the right to go snooping around?!" I'm angrier than I've been in a long time. Why is he here? Stupid fucking nosy American boy, how dare he come into Eliza's room?!
"I-I'm sorry. I was just looking around and then I walked in here and I saw all the medical equipment and I was curious..." Gerard trails off, realizing how weak his excuse is.
"Get out right now. Get the fuck out!" I'm screaming at him. I haven't screamed - hell, haven't even raised my voice - in god knows how long. Strangely though, Gerard doesn't seem that intimidated.
"I'm sorry." he says calmly. I force myself to calm down to. I shouldn't loose my temper like that. I have control over my emotions, and getting angry means loosing your control. I don't want to do that. I take a deep breath, then, ignoring Gerard, sit down next to Eliza.
"Your sister, right?"
I nod. "Elizabeth." Why am I still talking to him? He should just go away. What right does he have to talk to me, ask me questions about Eliza?
"Is she ill?" Gerard asks. A scoff escapes my lips.
"Yeah. Ill. She's a bit poorly, but she'll get better soon."
Going by the expression on his face, my new neighbor doesn't appreciate mockery.
"I was just asking. What's wrong with her then, if she isn't sick?"
It would be nice just to tell him. For once, forget all the lies I've spun to keep this a secret, and talk.
"She...Five years ago, she was walking home from school and she slipped on some ice and hit her head. She seemed fine, but the next day, she didn't wake up. Comatose. She was in the hospital for seven months, but then they needed bed room so they got her hooked up to all her machines here."
"Shit...I'm sorry."
I look at Gerard, at the pity obvious on his face, and feel slightly sick. What am I doing talking to him about this, telling him about Eliza? I haven't told anybody, that's how it works. After it happened, I spun my friends some story about her going off to boarding school, and then ditched them. I don't want pity. I don't NEED pity, I'm fine, I don't need people saying that they're 'sorry', and that 'they're always there' if I need someone to talk to.
"Get out of this house." I say, not looking at Gerard as I speak. I don't want to see the sympathy on his face.
"What?" He sounds confused. I guess he has a right to be, I was telling him my fucking life story a second ago.
"Get out. I don't want to talk to you. Leave."
"No, but -"
"Leave."
Gerard sighs, then leaves the room.
"What the fuck are you doing here! Get out! Who gave you the right to go snooping around?!" I'm angrier than I've been in a long time. Why is he here? Stupid fucking nosy American boy, how dare he come into Eliza's room?!
"I-I'm sorry. I was just looking around and then I walked in here and I saw all the medical equipment and I was curious..." Gerard trails off, realizing how weak his excuse is.
"Get out right now. Get the fuck out!" I'm screaming at him. I haven't screamed - hell, haven't even raised my voice - in god knows how long. Strangely though, Gerard doesn't seem that intimidated.
"I'm sorry." he says calmly. I force myself to calm down to. I shouldn't loose my temper like that. I have control over my emotions, and getting angry means loosing your control. I don't want to do that. I take a deep breath, then, ignoring Gerard, sit down next to Eliza.
"Your sister, right?"
I nod. "Elizabeth." Why am I still talking to him? He should just go away. What right does he have to talk to me, ask me questions about Eliza?
"Is she ill?" Gerard asks. A scoff escapes my lips.
"Yeah. Ill. She's a bit poorly, but she'll get better soon."
Going by the expression on his face, my new neighbor doesn't appreciate mockery.
"I was just asking. What's wrong with her then, if she isn't sick?"
It would be nice just to tell him. For once, forget all the lies I've spun to keep this a secret, and talk.
"She...Five years ago, she was walking home from school and she slipped on some ice and hit her head. She seemed fine, but the next day, she didn't wake up. Comatose. She was in the hospital for seven months, but then they needed bed room so they got her hooked up to all her machines here."
"Shit...I'm sorry."
I look at Gerard, at the pity obvious on his face, and feel slightly sick. What am I doing talking to him about this, telling him about Eliza? I haven't told anybody, that's how it works. After it happened, I spun my friends some story about her going off to boarding school, and then ditched them. I don't want pity. I don't NEED pity, I'm fine, I don't need people saying that they're 'sorry', and that 'they're always there' if I need someone to talk to.
"Get out of this house." I say, not looking at Gerard as I speak. I don't want to see the sympathy on his face.
"What?" He sounds confused. I guess he has a right to be, I was telling him my fucking life story a second ago.
"Get out. I don't want to talk to you. Leave."
"No, but -"
"Leave."
Gerard sighs, then leaves the room.