Hopeless

XIX

"There is something in even the darkest situations that we can make a positive in our lives." - Deborah Norville.

It was him; he had come to see me.

'What are you doing here?' I asked him, my voice trembling, my eyes filled with tears. He looked scared and vulnerable. His eyes did not dare to look at my own, afraid to face the possible judgment hiding in them. The truth is I did not know how to react to his arrival. I had not seen him since our dear parent's funeral and since then, his presence was not so significant —if not non-existent— and I was not aware of my feelings towards the situation; towards him.

'I came to see you' He breathed out. My stare fell intensely on him, burning holes through him and wondering whenever he was going to speak up again. It itched me to ask him the question; why? Why did he come to see me? Why now? But I didn't. I could not bear open my mouth and speak because I knew that the only thing coming from there would be a line of pathetic sobs. 'I am sure you must be wondering why I came—'

'Yes I am wondering.' I cut him off and exclaimed fiercely. A newly discovered anger had risen and had suddenly taken control. 'I am wondering in what world does a brother abandon his sister moments after their parents funeral?'

He was shocked. I remember distinctly his eyelids flickering madly as if that could alter the situation he was facing and his mouth was partly hanging open.

'I am wondering, how could a brother let his only sister move to another country across the world, with a woman that had turned into a legitimate monster?' My back was no longer stuck on the mattress but had risen with force once I had found the courage to speak to my brother the way I thought he deserved. My heart was pounding under the skin of my chest and all of my powers went into my tries not to shed a tear during my tantrum.

'I am wondering how could, my brother, not call or text or show up at my doorstep during all those years asking if I am alive or not?' My voice was progressively getting louder with every word that went past my lips. I was looking at Dylan like he was the last person on earth I wanted to see at the moment. He did not look very happy either; with his brows frowned and his jaw clenching I realized he did not like what he heard much.

'Why did you leave me?'

'Don't be so dramatic, Zoe.' He said. It was my turn to be the one in shock. 'You got to live in aunt Maria's luxurious apartment, have everything you need handed to you—even your damn college tuition she paid for you!' My hands were shaking underneath the thick, white hospital blanket that was covering me. I was angry; he had not talked to me for years and then instead of apologizing for ghosting me, he accused me of having an easy life. 'So stop complaining, okay? You don't know how hard life can actually be.'

It felt like the millionth time I had seen my life in New York flash before my eyes. I took a moment to think about everything; it was quite a lot what I had experienced in the city. I was trying very hard to look at the events objectively and figure out whether Dylan was right or not. Was I truly overreacting to things? Had I been acting dramatically all along?

Then I looked at him. A man, he had become. A man who, when he left me was only nineteen years old, was standing in front of me, unaware of what I had been through, judging me for how I acted out on him. I did not know who he was anymore, not that I ever did. Of course, he was my brother but I didn't know him, really. I did not know his fears, his goals, his deepest secrets or desires. I didn't know what he wanted to do when he grew up, I didn't know his way of thinking or how he handled various situations.

He did not know me either. He didn't know my favorite color, or my favorite meal. He did not know my goals or fears. And he certainly did not know what I had to go through living with aunt Maria in New York and everything that happened in general.