Salt

The hospital was a dark place. In aura, in emotions, in sickness. Everything and everyone here wanted to be treated, but we all knew there was only so much the staff could do. The hauntings we had to figure out on our own.

The shadows that danced across the windows were cruel and urgent, and I hated it all. If only I could numb myself with morphine, too.

For the umpteenth time, I checked my mobile. Still nothing.

I wasn't the only one trying to get in touch with my folks, the nurses called in the hour Zoey was admitted. As expected, nobody was home. No one answered their phone either. Apparently, my dad's never picked up and my mom’s went straight to voicemail.

What a fucking surprise.

My hands clasped my sister's tighter, hers were clammy and cold, frail and weak. Maybe I could provide her with some form of heat, something strong to hold onto. Something she had to know would never leave her alone.

I was in this with her, all the way. Wherever she'd fall, I'd recklessly follow, so she'd have a hand to catch her, even if we both plunged in the end.

Her pulse powering the dull beep of the machine, I'd never seen her look so powerless. Cooped up, frozen and blue, it was nothing like the fiery redhead I'd lived with. The young girl who pouted when she was met with resistance, until the stars aligned and she got everything she yearned for.

It was disarming to believe she could've been a person left in the past. If Jett and I hadn't come home when we did, she'd be gone.

Closing my eyes, I pressed her palm to my burning cheek, soiled from the fresh secretions of my eyes.

"... mom? Dad?"

I sprang out of my chair, it creaked so loud it eclipsed the machines. I looked down at Zoey, tubes down her nose, her scarlet hair splayed all over the pillow. But until her crystal eyes stared into mine, I wasn't reassured.

"They're not here yet. They're on their way." I lied. I told myself I had to.

She blinked, rapidly and constantly, but her breath was still shallow.

“Ashley?"

"It's me."

She struggled to move, but my soft hand on her hip stopped her completely. When she met my eyes, hers were bloodshot and emotionless.

"You're in the hospital, I got to you in time, Zoey. You're going to be okay." I tried for a smile, but found it was too weak to upkeep.

Eyes that resembled glass shone and shimmered dimly in the light. The strong rays centered on them, danced in a ring that solely she was invited to. Alone, all on her own, just like we'd both been our whole lives.

Her jaw clenched.

"I can't fucking do anything right..."

"Hey, don't-"

She batted my hand off her waist, nails catching the skin off my fingers.

"Why are you here? I told you to go fuck yourself and you what? Think that means 'come be by my bedside'? What will it take for you to leave me the hell alone?" Voice trembling, she crossed her arms and turned her head, but I couldn't move; frozen for eternity, or so it seemed. She sighed melodramatically. "Oh my God, leave! Go, I don't want you here. You've ruined everything!"

I swallowed, the taste on the tip of my tongue wasn't of disdain. No matter what insults she hurled at me, if she pulled on my pigtails and pushed me in the dirt, I refused to hate her. She was my family; sisters forever. Sure, there were times I wanted to slap her and lock her in her room until she learned respect, but now was not the time.

Things were different. My eyes, my mind, my heart were all left wide open. Taking everything in and never letting go. She could push me to the edge all she tried, but the honest truth was that I wouldn't give up.

Not on her, not on this.

Gaze resting on me again, I didn't see anything else. Not the increase of her heartbeat, not the doctors or nurses that were likely peering into the room. She was it for me; I was hers for evermore.

"You just... can't... can you? Leave, leave me," The tears welling in her eyes, her already eyeliner-streaked face was due for another blackening.

My breath matched hers, although I knew it wasn't from the drop in temperature.

"Please." She whispered.

My feet scuffed across the linoleum floor as I took a step back, a soft squeak that I knew I was responsible for. But some things weren't soft; they were viscous and relentless, and bleak and unforgiving.

Life; this life for her was all those things. Her faith could be strong, her will good and fair, but there was always someone or something out there that sought to destroy the back it was all riding on.

I would like to believe I wasn't one of those factors, but if I looked back on my actions, I knew I very well couldn't say I was one-hundred per cent perfect.

Quieting down the cry in my throat, I shook my head and threaded my fingers through her cold and nimble ones.

"I hate you." She wobbled.

I spluttered out a nervous laugh, she didn't join in but that was okay.

"I wanted – I wanted to feel. Something; anything, but not anger, not all this hate I'm holding onto. It seemed so much better, easier. To succumb, give in and just stop. You know? It just... it..." She dropped off, tongue pressing behind her teeth as she fiddled with her ID bracelet. "I'm exhausted, I feel like I'm on fire all the time and I can't stop it. I just wanted it to stop."

Her heartbeat pulsated through her flesh and into mine, syncopating. Never ceasing, no matter how much it promised her it would.

And neither would I.

"And then I look at you and I feel it again, flowing through me. Hating you, wanting to be you, yet can't live up to you. It's never enough. I want more, and more, and it just keeps going and building until I'm left crumbling. You talk about drowning, that somebody purposely drew your number, but I–" Penciled in eyebrows furrowing, she lowered her stare. "And I'm here, wondering why. Why did they have to choose you? I mean, was nobody else worthy... wasn't I?"

The tighter I squeezed her hand, the more breath I lost. In the air, spinning all around us, but it never returned. It was gone and, unless she turned this speech on its head, so was my sense of self.

Incomplete and faltering, I watched a young girl cry. She used to be so sweet, bubbly and kind. So, to see her deteriorate and become someone disturbed and broken, so tired from the neglect I'd been unaware I was giving her. I was a part of this, I always had been.

I had no idea I was hurting her. It shouldn't have had to come to this.

She yearned for a release, an end to the madness. And I robbed her of that. If I'd come home just a few minutes later, she'd have gotten her time.

Even when it wasn't about me, I'd almost made it so.

And I think that's why I never left after that. Not a lot of input, either. I finally did the one good thing she was begging everybody to do.

I shut up, held her, and listened.