6 siblings turned strangers that complete each other in all the wrong ways.
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Estranged from her family since nine years, all it takes is one phone call from the hospital to send Thea Reid's past launching into her present.
As old severed t...
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AS MUCH AS I A LOATHE MYSELF for it, I know that deep down I was meant to be a sister. No one could play this role better than me. I am the only one who could handle the ruination of my mother by making her heartbroken pain my own, salvage a momentum in the death of my parent's marriage while watching helplessly as my childhood slipped through my fingers. I am the support of my siblings, the only one soft enough to allow emotion to taint logic, yet loud enough to take a stand against my father, deal with his hurting words, and parent our youngest brother Aaron, so he could grow with a whole heart.
When I was little, getting hurt meant healing again.
Now it doesn't anymore.
Not for me, and definitely not for Logan.
He's lying on the hospital bed with a bruise around his right eye and his arm is bleeding so badly that I don't think he'll ever forget this hospital visit because it'll leave a scar. He's twitching in his induced-anaesthesia state and my hands are itching to soothe his mind. Not because every time there was a thunderstorm we'd both huddle together because we were both so scared of them that we'd cry together till Mom put us back to sleep, but because seeing Logan look so scared is unnatural. He's always been the pessimist, passing snarks here and there, but we all know that's just the way he copes after mom's leaving, and then dad's passing.
"Can I go up to him?", I ask Ravi.
He nods, affirmative.
I take Logan's hand in mine, still standing at the edge of the hospital bed in which he lays. His eyebrows are scrunched together even in sleep, his demons never leave him.
I remember when Logan would come back hurt from a bad fall in the school playground or a scrape from a rough play with the others, I'd stick a hundred different colourful band aids – usually the brightest shade of pink or purple – and he'd pretend that they magically healed him immediately. Logan's the same age as Ravi, and he's always had a tumultuous relationship with Dad. Ravi and Logan share the same birthday. The day Logan was born, Dad left the hospital and was never there for Mom while she was giving birth, to be there with Ravi's mother. It broke everyone's heart, but it wounded Moms the most.
Now, judging from Logan's current condition, not even a million colourful kiddie bandaids can save him.
More than beat up, he looks defeated. I want to hug him and cry at the same time. When did things ever get so bad? His eyes flutter slightly, adjusting to the hospital lights. His tattoos gleam in the sweat of the stuffy blankets he's under.
"Ravi, I think I'm hallucinating. Thea's here."
Ravi lets out a chuckle.
"It's me, Logan. I'm here."
He looks a little shocked, a little dreamy.
"Why'd you come here, little miss escapist. To take pity on your brother? I'm not your quick-fix case Thea. You can't just run back nine years down the line and pretend you get to see me. Do you even know me? I do not fucking know you. You're not Thea, my sister. You're Thea, a stranger that came along nine years later."
