Poison (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 2

I awake on this crisp, sunny morning around 7am, just in time to see the sun peak up from the horizon. I surround myself with my fluffy blankets, then dig myself into my plump pillows.

I look all around my bed and room and admire the theme.

Dark, rich wood with engraved royal horses and patters make up my dresser, desks, head and footboard, and room accents. My bed sheets are a sweet brown color, my blankets are a pale green tea color with floral crepe patters. Three of my pillows correspond with my blankets, two others have simple stripes on the ends, so the floral pattern doesn't exaggerate too much. The pale yellow walls and bronze rapes beautifully catch the suns golden light. The rest of the rooms colors just fit so perfectly together. 

My mom designed this room for me. She would call me her little princess and shower me with everything a royal girl would want. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate everything she did for me, but I felt too spoiled. It actually made me feel slightly guilty. But I know why my mom did it. She drowned me in riches because she didn’t want me to feel pain over the near loss of my older brother, Jackson.

Jackson loved freestyle motocross, just like every other boy in this town. But Jackson was special. He won every single race he entered, and could pull off tricks that you would see at FMX. 

Jackson literally lived and breathed motocross. Everyone in this small town admired Jackson and what he could do. In the back corner of our family’s 300 acre ranch, laid Jacksons homemade practice track. The hilly country we lived in made it perfect for jackson to easily challenge himself. Jacksons prized possession was of course, his bike. The black, green and electric blue colors corresponded with his gear. When he wasn't polishing and buffing the darn thing in the barn, he was riding the hell out of it either on his practice track or at a race.

One day, Jackson tried a new part of our ranch to practice at. The dry, dusty dirt made it to where his bike couldn't grip. Jackson knew better, but he wanted to practice anyway. He attempted a 540 flare. He would've gotten it, but his bike slipped from under him when he landed. Jackson hit his head on a rock. He didn't get a concussion, but he was having headaches that lagged his reflexes. I was the only one at the time that knew Jackson shouldn't have competed the following day, but he did anyway despite my begs for him not to. 

His headaches would randomly make his reflexes slow, but no matter what I pointed out to him, he was determined to compete anyway. During the competition, I could tell Jackson didn’t feel right right before he went on. Each trick he did over the towering ramps made my stomach flip. I couldn't look his during his last trick, and of course that’s when I heard the crowd cringe. Jackson had broke his back attempting a tail grab. He didn't grab the back of his bike in time and Jackson slammed into the front of the ramp. Yes, the ramp was cushioned at the front, but it was the way Jackson landed that was nearly fatal. 

He was urgently rushed to the hospital. It wasn’t the break in his back that almost killed him, it was the damage done to his spinal chords. My parents did everything they could. They dumped money and money into doctors pockets. They even paid for a specialized doctor to fly across the country to work on my big brother.

It took longer than expected for Jackson to recover. While he was in the hospital he specifically told me that no matter what happened he doesn't want me to ever feel like what happened to him was my fault. While he was recovering, thats when my mom started spoiling me.

Jackson is now in college and still lives a new and improved motocross life. But the scarring crash he encountered still haunts me.

I force myself to stop thinking about Jackson.

I pull myself up from my plump bed and stretch out my body. I put on my Middleburg boots over my pajama pants and head downstairs.

The smell of Saturday morning breakfast surrounds me. Bacon, eggs, toast and pancakes.

“Good morning, kiddo.” My dad greets as he flips a pancake.

“Mornin’,” I say, taking a piece of toast with me as I leave out the side door. I walk confidently through the rich grass and towards our barn. My mothers grey horse whinnies when he sees me walk towards him with a feed bucket. I take care of feeding all the other animals, then trudge back to the house.

My loving father set my plate of food in front of the seat that’s considered “Lilly’s.”

“Sit down, Lil. I gotta talk to you.” My dad says poking his pancakes with his fork. “Do you remember two years ago when I arrested a kid that goes to your school? Justin?”

“How could anyone forget?” I say sitting down.

“Well,” My dad starts. “A lot have things have happened to him since then…”

“Dad,” I ask. “Why is Justin even important?”

“Lilly, Justin needs somewhere where he wont get onto a bad path again.”

“So what are you saying?” I say, taking a bite of my pancake.

I can tell my dad gives up trying to sugar coat what he’s about to say. “Justin’s going to be staying in the extra room in the barn. Until he finishes high school.” He says bluntly.

I nearly choke on my pancake. “What.”