Glorybringer AU ☆the fault in our stars☆

[40] Fault and Blame

Caution: mentions of suicide

☆Glory☆ 

"I am too young

And I have loved you too much"

-The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoyevsky

☆

The  girl in the picture set on Grandmother's lamp table, always covered with a handkerchief, is beautiful. Even though I can only sneak a peek at a time-- barely three seconds-- I can still draw the girl's face in my mind. Long, curly blonde hair, similar to mine, and a round face. I don't remember much about anything except her eyes. I don't know the color or the shape (I note to look it up later), but the eyes are something that erase everything about the face, only allowing a faint image of the eyes to linger. Perhaps there was something smeared on her face. Or pimples. But the eyes stare right at the six-year-old me, daring me to think of anything other than the world 'beautiful'. 

As I grow older, I wonder, what makes it so breathtaking? The eyelashes? The color? But I finally settle down on one conclusion: those are the eyes of a mad person. She seemed-- even then, when she was young-- to search for something, some bigger light. It was like she was staring at something, obsessed, unsatisfied. 

And I was right. She kept moving, following that perfect light, always searching for more.

She left Grandmother. She left her husband, my father, and then me.

☆ 

When I wake from my dream, I see Grandmother sitting by my side. Her hand is next to mine, but she isn't holding it, like she's afraid I will turn to dust if she touches me. 

Grandmother is an old lady. Living with her for a few years, there are a lot of things I know about her. The things that would never change. She is strict. She always speaks in a soft voice, because she knows her voice would be heard no matter what. She is old-fashioned. She used to have a picture of Anaconda in her room.

Her hands are so wrinkled, with veins visible underneath the skin that barely tops over it. I stare at it for a long time, thinking, remembering. Reminding myself, as I hold that beautiful hand, of what keeps me here. I realize that my list cuts off after a while. The other list goes on and on. 

Grandmother wakes at my touch. Her voice is lispy. "You should try to get some--"

I cut her off, because if she goes on, I know I can never ask her. "Grandmother, I want to ask you something serious." I grip the blanket. I'm sorry. I know I'm being selfish. Her eyes widen, and she almost seems scared to hear my next words. "Can I speak to you about it?" 

"Glory." She shakes her head. I can tell that she knows what I'm going to say. "Rest. It's been a long night, I don't want to..." Her voice trails off, breathing in shakily.

"Grandmother," I say gently. I grip her hand tighter. "I don't want you to be like this anymore. Always worrying about your granddaughter. I should be taking care of you, but I've never done anything in my life that was helpful. I want you to enjoy your life. Not this. I don't--" I'm choking on my words. "I don't want this situation to go on any longer, okay?"

"Is it because of your illness, Glory? Because we can fight through it, I promise. It'll be okay, I'm so sorry that you have to go through this, I'm sorry..." Grandmother is sobbing. Her fingers brush over my pulse almost unconsciously, as if she's trying, for the hundredth time, to convince herself that I am alive. 

"Grandmother, did you know?" I clasp her hands, holding it to my cheek. Did you know that Anaconda's husband has been injecting cancer cells into my body? Did you know he killed my father? And that Anacondra knew but never told me? Grandmother stares at me, her eyes questioning. So she doesn't know. That's when I realize, she must never know. "I've never wanted to die before. I loved my life." It's like they've crushed my soul into pieces. "But now, I'm not so sure anymore. Everything-- everyone-- they're so cruel, Grandmother." I'm digging my fingernails into my palm. So, so cruel. "And I'm so young. You know? I was just a little kid. I still am. But everybody is just-" I cover my face, ashamed to look at her. "-they're monstrous."