just wanted to pop this in and say that your support means the world to me! do tell me how you guys feel about the story, always appreciated. x
andrea
Rumours swirled around. They always did, and somehow, they always managed to slip through the cracks and get to me. It began since I was a teenager, every mistake I made being amplified on radio and in gossip forums. My dad's company had began to rise steadily, and we were under constant pressure and judgment from the outside world. People I'd never meet, from places I'd never visited. It was all so much to take in at that age - I was a regular student at a regular school who studied at regular hours and ordered regular-sized coffee. I didn't get it, wasn't work 'strictly business'? We weren't celebrities.
This time, it was about me being a home-wrecker and causing the lovely, happy couple known as Niall and Janice to split. Just great. Simply splendid. I did know Niall long before this, but I certainly never uttered a word to him up until quite recently.
"Andrea Esteé Byrne," My father shouts, throwing the newspaper article onto the coffee table. "What is this? I got you a spot in H&Co. to learn the ways of business, and here you are visiting Niall's house and disappearing on a date?" I groaned, glancing at the photographs. Of course, someone just had to be there, at the right place, right time, and took a grainy picture of us talking. The picture was blurry, but it couldn't be clearer that it was us. "Dad, look, I can explain-" I reasoned, but Harry cut me off. "He called you the other day while we were having lunch, too. And you just went."
"Look, he's going through a rough time and I know for a fact that I've done nothing wrong, okay? Give me a break, I'm turning twenty-four next month, I know what I'm doing!" I defended myself, raising my voice. "I'm not a little girl anymore."
Harry glares at me, and I realise that definitely wasn't the right thing to say. The silence in the room was deafening, but it was broken as soon as the phone rang. "Hello?" My father answered, his eyes downcast. "Yes, I'm Emily Byrne's father." And he went silent.
* * *
My feet were planted to the floor of her ward. My sister was pronounced brain-dead. Emily Jane Byrne. Brain dead? Impossible. She was breathing, just fine. Like every other human being her age. She was on that old ratty Vespa that constantly broke down when a truck hit her. Horrible head injuries, and she was gone. Just like that. Her body still lay there, though. Lips no longer tinted that rosy shade we all adored, but in its' place a ghastly pale. The cuts and bruises on her body made it hard for us to lay our eyes upon.
We were a sobbing mess. Well, I was a sobbing mess. I loved Emily. She was and still is that pesky little sister, but she never failed to spread the love she had to everyone. I think what struck me the most though, was that she was nineteen. I've always stressed on her age as being one of the reasons why she was always busy with schoolwork and the like, but this time, it was because she was only nineteen. She had such a long way to go, sights to see, people to meet. Not in a million years would I think to be seeing her on her deathbed.
Harry was tearing, and so was my father. His lips were trembling, fists clenched. He was trying to be strong, something people often associated with the oldest sibling of families. It was only when I pulled him into a tight embrace that something inside him snapped, and his tears stained the thin fabric of my shirt.
"Family members of Emily Byrne?" The lady asked, walking into the room. We attempted to dry our tears, to silence our sniffs and unglamorous cries. It worked, to a certain extent. "We wanted to seek your approval for an organ transplant. Emily's body is in the pink of health, but chances of her waking up are close to none. If you could donate her corneas, she could help two of the visually impaired."
Harry's eyes widened, and his nails dug into my arm. But my father gave it a mere thought, before signing the papers. Emily would be truly gone. We could carry out her dream funeral now though, to burn her and scatter her ashes into the sea. She always wanted to disappear into the dark depths of the ocean, and now she finally could. The nurse immediately called for more aid, wheeling Emily's bed out of the room. The three of us stood in silence as her body bypassed us, our words unable to be projected.
"I love you, Emily."
* * *
"Is everything okay?" was the first line that Mr. Horan said to me that day. I was far from it. My eyes were swollen and my undereye circles kept getting darker. The concealer I used on a daily basis barely did anything to hide my pitiful self. All I wanted to do was curl into a blanket and hide from the harsh reality in which my sister no longer existed.
"I'm fine, Niall," I gave a small smile, stressing on his name. His hand clutched my forearm tightly, and he points towards his office. "Five minutes." Crap. He must've known something was wrong. He knows everything. I had a whole story planned out in my head for situations like this. I would survive just fine.
"Miss Byrne, what seems to be the problem here?" He asks, prying his eyes away from his laptop screen for a few seconds. I considered telling him - he did seem to fancy Emily, but I couldn't bring myself to. "It's nothing, really. Don't worry about me."
"I'm not worried, I just don't want your work to be affected by it," He smiles, but it seemed to only stab me in the heart. That sentence was so cold... Just when I thought he cared. That was delusional though, he was my boss. Nothing more, and it would stay that way.
His heart was cold and resided in the depths of which warmth was not cast upon.
