𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐑: Hope
Louis and Aimée Cartier are two kids living in four walls of complete nightmare. Ever since their mom overdosed Louis stepped in as the parental figure for Aimée. In Louis's world, his sister was a top priority, even if that meant...
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•Things to Do Alex G • ♫𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧' 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 ♫ •
The first time someone hit me I was ten.
My mom had just gotten off work and I had tried to make me and Aimée some dinner but I ended up spilling a pot of water all over the floor. It wasn't a big deal; the situation could have easily been avoided if I had just grabbed a towel before she entered the kitchen, but part of my young mind had really believed that my mother would have just brushed it off as an accident—which is what it really was.
Ever since that day, I wasn't allowed to have any of my mistakes classified as 'accidents' if I did something wrong, I was going to feel it for the next few days in the form of a bruise or cigarette burn.
There was a small period of time when I believed my mother, Aimée, and I were all on the same team, even if sometimes she joined in the insults my new stepfather threw my way.
When I open my eyes I expect to see Aimée's worried face and my small bedroom but instead blinding white lights cloud my vision.
"You can't go in there, you need to rest." A muffled female voice says from outside the door. I now realize I'm in a small hospital room, not in my bloodied clothes but in a blue hospital gown.
The door bursts open and a limping Aimée comes in, the broad stitches above her eyebrow bring the attention away from the look in her eyes, and my gaze travels down to the black knee brace that's preventing her from fully sprinting to my bed.
A nurse in cupcake scrubs speed walks after my sister, an annoyed look on her face. I scowl at her, but she doesn't seem to notice; her glare pointed towards Aimée.
"You're awake!" My sister says happily, coming to hug me. The nurse pulls her back, "You have to be careful, hun. He's hurt."
I remove my shaky hand from under the thin blanket, lightly running my fingers —one of them is covered in a cold metal splint with a blue cushion— across my face. Stiff bandages are placed across my nose, which is tender when I feel it.
Covering a big part of my hairline is fleshy skin, what I can only assume is stitches. It hurts when I graze them but I ignore the dull ache, focusing on the little bumps and thin rough threads. A cool and sticky ointment feels weird on my fingers when I pull away.
If I had a mirror right now I bet I could be considered the child of Papa Smurf and that uptight purple pony from that show Aimée loved when she was younger, considering how black and blue I probably am.
The nurse grabs a clear pink clipboard from the foot of my bed, flipping through a couple of pages before sighing. "You're going to have to take it easy, Louis. You have a mild concussion and a skull fracture, and don't be touching those bandages your nose is broken."
