This isn't weird.

Cammy

Several long hours passed before Molly was finally out of surgery, followed by a few more before Millie was allowed to see her. The nurse, a starkly freckled young man in powder blue scrubs, kindly asked her to follow him down the hall. She felt sick plodding along after him, and when they arrived at the room, she hesitated in the doorway, suddenly terrified to step inside. But she had to, so she did.

Looking at her sister made Millie want to run straight back out again.

Molly looked like a corpse, limp and pale, covered in bandages and plaster. Her face was bruised and swollen, tubes protruding from her mouth and nose, wires snaking out from the front of her hospital gown. The steady, ominous beat of a heart monitor was the only sign of life.

All she wanted was to look away, but her eyes remained stubbornly fixed. The nurse might have spoken to her, but if so, she didn't hear it. She didn't even notice when he left. For a long while, she just stood there, staring numbly at her enfeebled sister, but eventually she took a seat in a stiff, straight-backed chair near the bedside and stared from there instead. She wasn't consciously aware of the time passing, so she wasn't sure at what point she had dozed off. The nurse woke her with a pat on her shoulder and gently suggested that she get some sleep and come back the next day; it was unlikely Molly would be conscious again before that.

Tess came to pick her up. She had found them a room in a motel down the street. It was cheap, and somewhat rundown, but at least it was clean. She tucked Millie into bed and held her until morning, then drove her back to the hospital. She offered to stay and wait with her, but Millie declined; it felt wrong for a stranger to be in the room when her sister awoke.

It was early in the afternoon when Molly's eyes fluttered open. They were blank and unfocused at first, but after several minutes she turned her gaze ever so slowly onto Millie.

Millie sat up. "Hi, Molly." Her sister said nothing. Millie cleared her throat and said, "Looks like I finally get to be the pretty one."

Molly stared at her for several long seconds, then at last spoke, her voice muffled by the breathing tubes. "You fuckin' bitch."

Millie grinned a miserable grin.

"Why are you here, Cammy?" her sister demanded icily.

"The same reason you're here, Molly. Because you decided to try larping fucking Frogger."

"I guess I should be honored," Molly scoffed, "considerin' you didn't even bother showin' up to Dad's funeral."

"I was busy that day."

"Doin' what?"

"Drinking champagne."

"Why do you always have to be such a cunt?"

"I got that from Dad."

"Yeah, you really did," Molly admitted with a begrudging chuckle. "...It's weird to see you."

"Yeah."

"You talk different now."

"Yeah."

"Last time I saw you, your hair was pink."

"Last time I saw you, your pelvis was in one piece."

"Fuck you, Cammy."

"Fuck you, Molly."

"Fuck me? Fuck you!"

"Me? Fuck me? Fuck you."

"No, fuck YOU."

"Go fuck yourself."

"You go fuck yourself!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck you!"

They both burst into laughter, causing Molly to wince in pain. "God. Mom and Dad used to go back and forth like that for hours," she said with a sardonically nostalgic sigh.

Millie smirked. "No wonder we both turned out so well-adjusted."

The conversation lulled into several minutes of uneasy silence. Molly finally spoke again. "I missed you, Cammy."

Millie scratched her neck awkwardly. "Yeah, um. You too," she muttered.

"Still get all weird talkin' about your feelings, huh? You really are just like Dad."

"You're gonna make me throw myself into traffic."

"Same old Camilla."

"Nobody really calls me Camilla anymore, actually."

"Really? What are you goin' by these days?"

"Millie."

Molly's lips pursed. "Are you fuckin' serious right now?"

"Well... yeah."

"You seriously stole my fuckin' name?"

"I did not steal your name. Millie and Molly are completely different names—"

"You petty bitch. You could never stand for me to to have anything that was just mine—"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Molly, it's just a fucking nickname! You always make such a big fucking deal about shit that doesn't matter—"

"You always act like nothin' fuckin' matters—"

"If that's true, then why the fuck would I be here?"

"Probably to say 'I told ya so.'"

"I told you so. There. Got it over with. Fuck. I'm still here, ain't I?"

There was a long, tense silence. "Is he here?" asked Molly quietly.

Millie shook her head. "No, Molly. He hasn't been here at all. He's the one who called to tell me it was my problem."

Molly's eyes welled with tears. "He's just emotional right now. He'll come."

"Of course he will," Millie sneered. "Quick as a fuckin' whip, the second your disability checks start showin' up." She didn't notice the twang that began to creep into her voice as her anger rose.

"You don't know him," Molly insisted.

"Trust me, Molly, I fuckin' know him!" Millie growled. "He's still the same fuckin' creep who tried feelin' me up in my sleep on our fuckin' family camping trip when I was fourteen fuckin' years old."

"He was drunk. He didn't mean it."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, you are so fuckin' hopeless! He's spent half your fuckin' marriage in either or rehab prison. You lost custody of your own fuckin' son because of him. For Christ's sake, the man knocked up a fuckin' high schooler! Why the fuck would you ever wanna be with that son of a bitch at all, Molly?"

"You don't know what he's like when we're alone."

"Oh, really? Because I have some idea, goin' by all the fuckin' bruises I've seen on you over the years."

"You got some bruises there yourself, Camilla."

Millie crossed her arms over her chest. "That's different," she muttered.

"Sure it is." Molly rolled her eyes. "I'm tired."

"Cool. Fine. Get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up." Millie stood up and started toward the door, but Molly reached out with her uninjured arm and caught her hand. Millie looked at her.

"I love you, Cammy," Molly whispered feebly.

Millie cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Uh-huh. You too," she mumbled, and squeezed her sister's hand before she left.