DECEMBER , 1985.
Elizabeth crept down the stairs late at night, making sure her steps were small. Her hair was messy, and her sleeping mask was overtop of her hair. She tiptoed into the kitchen, gently opening the cupboards, and grabbing a glass, turning the tap on it's lowest setting, watching as her glass slowly filled up.
Footsteps crept up behind her, and a hand tapped her on the shoulder. "Should you be up this late?" Michael whispered to Elizabeth before she turned around to see him, a scowl creeping into her expression, and her mood quickly dropping. She hasn't been happy to see michael in at least two years, and it's been two years since the bite. She quickly began to walk away, careful not to spill her glass of water. "I don't need you to police me, Michael." Her words had a sort of bite to them, she barely looked him in the eye.
He followed her steps, reaching out to her, resting his hand on her shoulder for a short moment before she whipped around, tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't care what he had to say to her, whatever was so important right now could wait. "Elizabeth wait.- what is your deal with me??" His whisper subtly cracked into normal speech, he looked dumbfounded. Elizabeth always hated the exact expression on his face currently, and she especially hates it now. "What is my problem!? I have the problem, Michael!?" Her voice raised, which was the only concern with their sleeping father upstairs. The tears in her eyes made her sniffle, her lip wobbling. "Yeah, you do have the problem, I don't get it! What did I ever do to you!?" He argued back, making all sorts of hand gestures as his stomach sank into nausea. Their eyes hadn't met kindly in years, no smiles given in either direction, and nothing more than an attempt of a hand during hard times.
"My problem? It's that you KILLED our brother. Or does it not matter to you anymore?" Elizabeth said, her raised voice wobbling and seething in pure hatred and disdain she felt for her elder brother, and the rage she felt as he continued to loath in his own sorrow every single day. Tears slid from her eyes, looking at Michael's expression, which was nearly unreadable. To him, his emotions were clear as day, because he felt nothing but guilt the same guilt he'd felt for years. Guilt for both the look in his sister's eyes, and how he'd never bothered to consider that his actions had effected her so badly even while she was uninvolved. Elizabeth quickly turned around, stomping up the stairs, muttering under her breath, and between sobs and hiccups. She couldn't understand how oblivious Michael had been, and how it took her screaming in his face to finally give him the wake up call which she believed had been overdue for about two years. She heard his footsteps slowly drag up the stairs, but she was already halfway down the hall, before she made a swift turn into her room, slamming the door loudly. Only moments later did she hear his gently click shut in contrast.
