Savanah Garcia
She thought she was a Garcia
She was only just 9 years old when everyone forgot about her.
She's been bullied, gone through a heartache, been kidnaped, has a best friend dealing with cancer, her family has turn their backs on her, wh...
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| Savanah Rodriguez |
"I was expecting you" the nurse murmured, as my brother just pushed me in, as he followed suit. Obviously, we weren't normal people, so my brother had taken me to the football medic that was on site. I liked the fact that he was getting me away from the stares, but the chill that ran through me at what the male medic had indicated, sent shivers down my spine.
"Thanks Ben, we're all good here" and with that, my brother didn't budge. He stayed where he was, keeping his arm crossed over himself, as he just nodded to the words of the medic, scaring the medic slightly. "Don't even think about touching my sister" and with that, the medic became nervous, changing his demeanor entirely, from the person that I had been greeted with when I initially walked in.
Whether it was the fact that Benjamin had seen what was written on my face through my eyes, hence why he had said what he had said, or the fact that my brother knew what this medic did to people behind closed doors, said enough in itself. Enough was said through the way my brother was standing near the door, his eyes never once moving from the medic, making me feel slightly more comfortable when the medic touched my face, making sure that the bleeding had been stopped, and that the right procedures were being taken.
Right as I was about to step down and away from the medic, he pulled me back, grabbing my wrist, right at the same time my brother had finally turned away from him. "You know where I am" and I tried my hardest to not physically recoil away from the creepy man, as I followed my brother out of the room, trying to blank out what had just happened.
I continued to follow my brother, as we grabbed our bags, before we were making the trek back to the truck that we had ridden in this morning, while neither one of us spoke about how weird the day he been together. We didn't mention how my white shirt, was now stained red, and my brother's shirt looked as though he had been the one that had done the job, as he had speckles of blood along his shirt.
I was sure, that I was going to be the one that would have to work tireless hours over these uniforms, as I did every other day of the week, month, year, my entire life. Everything I did, always went back to the family that I came from, and most people would say that that was how family's role, but not mine. The role of a mother, resided on the middle child, and no one else had bothered to lift a finger, when my life was the one that was crumbling, begging to be set free.
---
Once again, my brother had not left my side. Whether I was in my room or locked in the laundry, my brother was waiting around every corner, asking me questions, getting me food, getting me water, making sure that I was okay; he was starting to annoy me. Normally, I was the person who did that, so I was getting a little taste of my own medicine, but in verbal form.
I was prepping dinner, while he sat there, doing nothing, as per usual. He was just here, being in my presence. He was in my space, and I was starting to get annoyed. I was used to my own breathing, my own thoughts, my own consequences, but not somebody else'. I was used to my own loneliness, that I didn't need someone coming in and disrupting it. It was making it difficult, especially with the throbbing in my nose, to concentrate on what I was doing, when the anger was bubbling to the surface.
