The Unlucky One

Chapter 3

One day later:

I lazily leaned my tall frame against the desk of the receptionist, who was busily typing away. "What can I do you for?" She asked politely. "I have medication to pick up, should be under Elodie Altman." I added, watching her swivel her chair into the back room. After talking to one of the doctors, she was handed over a bag, that was later handed off to me.

"Dr. Michaels showed you what to take, and how often to take these. Correct?" I nodded. "Alright hun, you're released. Take it easy, they'll find her." I fought the urge to comment, instead I nodded as a thank you.

I turned on my heal and slowly, made my way towards the exit. On my journey to the door I was rammed into, moving me aside for an older couple, probably in their late forties, who were clearly in a rush. I grit my teeth in pain, not wanting to make a scene. I stood in quiet anger as they bounded towards a patients room, beginning to yell before they even stepped through the door.

"How could you?! He's DEAD! Because of you! If you hadn't moved back into town this year, he would be ALIVE. But no! You just HAD to take this job in the city. Why couldn't you just stay away?! My son is dead, and you're to blame. You took him to that grocery store. I will never forgive you... for not saving my son." My feet froze solid in place as the same couple stormed out of the room. I opened my mouth to protest as the woman and I locked eyes, and veered towards me.

"I heard about your sister dear, I'll keep both of you in my prayers. Stay strong Ellie." She sympathetically rubbed her hand on my shoulder, before who seemed to be her husband intertwined their fingers together, and left the building.

Once again I was unable to form the right words, after witnessing what just happened. How could somebody ever talk down to someone like that? This whole thing wasn't anyone's fault! It was a robbery, involving a shooting.

The only people at fault for the deaths that occurred, are the men who fired their weapons. Sadly, listening to my own notion didn't make myself feel any better, even if it was true.

I shook off what had just happened, and carefully walked out of the building. The fresh air blew my long, dirty blonde hair back. Almost everyone who has spoken to me has made little remarks like "They'll find her." Or, "She's out there someone." Or my personal favorite, "You're a hero." Hero? I made a fool of myself. I should be classified as nothing short of a fool.

Walking through the parking lot, I finally spotted my car. A tow truck service was kind enough to tow my Jeep into the parking lot, and close to the entrance. I didn't get that. I've been a member of this city for no longer than 24 hours, and I've been treated so kindly. Despite... never mind.

I carefully hoisted myself into the Jeep, snuggling into the seat and turning the key to roar the engine to life. I sped home as quickly as I could without getting pulled over. I approached the house, pulling into the driveway. Once again, I carefully maneuvered my way out of the car, with my bag of prescription medicine. I made my way inside, facing something I haven't seen in a long time.

"Doctor told me you wouldn't be home for another week." Mom slurred, pouring a dark red wine into a tall wine glass. I un-grit my teeth, inhaling deeply. "Since I'm an adult, I can sign myself out." I mentioned, watching her take a large gulp out of her wine glass.

This was the first time in eight years that she has had alcohol. All the progress made throughout the years of sobriety, all the therapy, counseling, AA meetings, and rehabilitation centers were crumpled up and thrown away.

"Adult? How so? You c-can't keep a four year old in your s-sights without losing her." She drawled, her eyes heavy and looking straight through me. I shook my head in disgust, making my way up the stairs.

"I don't s-suppose you'll want to drive to the store for some groceries, would you?" She yelled as I made my way to the top of the stairs. I stood and bowed my head, pressing my eyes shut and gripping the railing. She cackled at her joke, which was nowhere near comical.

My mother is bipolar, which makes her difficult to deal with from time to time. By difficult, I mean she doesn't comprehend what you say to her. She only sees things one say, her way. There is absolutely no way of her seeing otherwise. For a few months I didn't hear from that side of my mother, until yesterday at the hospital.

It has been eight long years since I've seen my mother intoxicated. While my mother is difficult, and also intoxicated, she is unbelievable. I know knew what I had to do. I had to find my sister, in order to get my mom out of this slump. She was never going to forgive me for not trying to save Em. To be honest, I will never forgive myself for not trying harder. I won't forgive myself until I find her.

I collected myself as she continued to laugh, and I made my way to my room. Before entering, I peered into my sisters room. I had an inner battle in my mind, whether or not to enter. I decided to step in and survey.

She barely had five minutes to play in her room.

I shuddered, seeing the toys scattered in the corner. That's where she played with them before they left. Why did we leave?

I finally saw pictures, hung in different places on the wall. I stepped closer for a better look, examining Emma's beautiful smile. He gleaming blue eyes, only a few shades darker than mine. Her golden blonde hair, and rosy cheeks. In the picture I was giving her a piggy-back-ride in our old house. My dad had taken the picture. My mother? Her whereabouts at the time didn't matter. When it was my dad, Emma, and I... things were always good.

I suddenly realized that my mother prides herself to much, and that she didn't tell my dad what has happened. I can't imagine how he would react. I leaned up against the wall, holding the picture of the two of us close to my chest.

I missed her. I missed her laugh, so much. She brightened my day, and she didn't even have to try. I was taken out of my thoughts as I heard glass shatter downstairs. "You better not be in her room!" My mom screamed, bounding up the stairs. I sprinted out of the room and into mine, slamming the door and locking it behind me.

"NEVER go in there! You don't deserve to! She's gone because of you! This is all your fault!" She screamed, now crying. "I will never forgive you." She said against my door. As she walked away I slide down to the ground, still clutching onto the picture frame with all my might. I thought back on what the lady from the hospital said to the person in the room, after she had barged in. My mom said the same thing.

I then realized that for the next few weeks, I was going to stay in my room, away from her. I would find some way to kill time before school starts. I had about three weeks.

My bottom lip quivered and I started to let the tears fall, realizing I was more upset than ever. My side ached, feeling my sore ribs. I crumpled my face up tightly, bringing my knees up to my chest. I hugged the picture of Emma and I and sobbed, wondering how it's even possible to be as unlucky as I am.

Authors note: *Hey!! Sorry this is getting kinda dark, that's my writing style. It'll clear up soon. Remember, comments are greatly appreciated!!*