Myosotis

I Hate to Tell You

'Climbing over the mountains,

I noticed in the distance,

You'll never get over.'

- Yuk-Cheung Chun, 'I Hate to Tell You'

---

"I hate to tell you, Miss Alice, but your brother is dead."

Alice stared blankly ahead at the white wall in front of her. In her mind she barely registered the words that entered her ear and left through the other.

She knew.

Her brother had died protecting her. He knew that both of them would die, but there was the possibility of one of them surviving the car-crash (and in his eyes, her) if one shielded the other and took most of the blow. That was why Alice was still alive - her brother had taken the blow for her.

And oh how she wished that he was the one in her current place instead.

Hans never deserved such a fate. If Alice could rewind time, she would have pushed him out of the way of danger instead. Even if it meant that she would've die.

(And she would die for him, several times over)

The touch of skin against her flesh brought Alice out of her reverie and she spared the psychiatrist sitting on  a chair beside her hospital bed a glance.

"I know, this must be hard for you," he said in a sympathetic tone. "But I can help you."

Alice brought her drawn up knees tighter together and pressed them closer to her body, wishing that the psychiatrist would remove his hand off of her person already. 'How?' she wondered. 'How on earth does he think he can help me. It's not as if he understands.'

She glanced at the psychiatrist again and noted his professional apparel and how the material of his clothing seemed expensive and everything was tucked in. His dark hair was also gelled back which only added to the professional air he gave off. It was the appearance of someone who had no understanding of the pain she had gone - is going - through. How was somebody like this supposed to help her? He seemed to care more about appearances than aiding his clients onto a path of recovery.

And it wasn't like he could've helped anyway, the only person who could help her was already gone.

"You've just got to let me help you, I can't if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Alice wished he would just be quiet. She didn't need his help; all she needed was Hans. If he wished to help her, then he should just leave her alone. What she needed right now wasn't a psychiatrist, but peace and quiet - time alone. And the cat doll her brother gave her. None of the comfort methods she once used could help her release her emotions in her current situation. She needed to cry her eyes out. Alone. She didn't want anybody to watch and give her those eyes of pity and offer empty words of comfort which she knew to be false. Everything they spouted - they didn't understand the full implication of the meaning behind the words. They would never understand.

Where was Hans when she needed him most?