Wilted

Chapter Two

My clothes are moderately soaked by the time I reach the hospital. But I've managed to keep the book from getting wet. Priorities.

I step inside of the hospital, immediately greeted by the smell of chemicals. Whenever I step foot in a hospital I get this sense of dread deep in the pits of my stomach. Like my body is telling me how much death and sadness is in this place.

I respect anyone who is a doctor or nurse or has anything to do with hospitals. Being stuck in a place such as this seems like it'd eat away at your soul. There are times you can help people, heal them and treat their illness. But there are also the times you can't. Those are the times where it makes me really wonder how they do it. How they watch people slowly fade away into nothing. How they can sit by, helpless, as someone dies right in front of them. It must eat away at your soul, cracking your heart.
I know for certain I could never be a doctor or a nurse. I've had to stand by and watch my sister die without being able to do anything. And it's damaged me in ways that I can't explain. I have no physical scars from it, but there are a million on my heart and etched into my soul.

It's the ugly parts of me that are hidden behind the beauty. The parts I can't get rid of no matter how hard I try to cover them up.

I wave to the secretary at the desk in front of the hospital doors. She greets me with a smile, no need to ask for my name or who I've come to visit. I practically live here along with my sister. I take the elevator up to the third floor, my feet taking me where I need to go without even having to think about it. I'd memorized the white walls, the polished floor.

I stop in front of my sister's hospital room, my eyes snagging on the room number. Room 353. Collecting myself I step inside and smile at my mother who is seated beside my sister's bed.
She was a petite woman. With honey blond hair that falls past her shoulders in waves and deep hazel eyes. There were lines around her eyes and mouth, lines that told how tired she was. How frail and weary she had grown over the years.

"Hi, sweetheart." She welcomes me with a quick hug, allowing me to set my bag down and tuck the book inside of it. 

"Hey, mom." I turn to my sister, who is watching me with a twinkle in her own hazel eyes. "Hey Charlette." She brings me into a hug of her own. I couldn't help but notice how weak she looked, how strained her breaths were. A rattling in her lungs that sounded whenever she inhaled. That sound ate away at my heart more and more everyday.

"Hey sis." She says in an overly cheerful voice. She had always been that way. Optimistic. Not letting what was happening to her bring her down. Like my mother she had honey blond hair and hazel eyes, though hers were more brown than my mothers. "Did you bring me anything?"

I smile and look around in my bag for the things I'd brought her. I always did when I came to visit. I pull out a small book and a box of her favorite cookies. She didn't love books as much as I did but she still read them when she got bored. She preferred to be out in nature, exploring the wild and searching for her next adventure. I hand them over to her and she turns the book over in her hands.

"A fairytale?" She questions with a raise of her eyebrow. For being twelve years old she was pretty smart and sassy.

"The original Rapunzel." I nod, smiling at her.

"But I already know what will happen. We all saw the Disney movie." She says with a roll of her eyes. I laugh a little, taking a seat at the edge of her bed.

"You'd be surprised. The original tale isn't like the movie." She looks doubtful, setting the book down beside her.

"I got Chinese take out for us." My mother pipes in, lifting a sack full of steaming food that smelled like heaven.

And that was how it was for the next hour. We ate food, turned something on for us to watch on the TV in Charlette's hospital room, just enjoying each other's company.
I look around at my family, feeling a little ache in my chest. I'd do anything for these guys. I smile to myself, knowing that they were the most important people in my life.

And yet, that feeling of dread still hadn't left me. It still rested in the pit of my stomach. Warning me of something.

But of what? I wasn't sure. 

(Words 830)