Opposites Attract - Rhea Ripley

Chapter 11 - Family Drama.

TW: Arguments, Violence...

1 Month Later in Australia, Demi's POV:

I couldn't sleep. Again. The moon was high, shining a soft, silver light through the curtains, casting a ghostly glow across the empty walls. It was one of those nights where your body feels heavy but at the same time, like it's made of lead, and your mind is racing a million miles a minute. I tossed and turned, my eyes darting back and forth between the clock and the ceiling, wishing for the seconds to pass slower.

It had been a month since I had been back in Australia, but each day got harder and harder. My aunt was in the final month of her life, and it was as if she was fading away before my eyes. The cancer had taken everything from her: her energy, her smile, her ability to feel anything but pain.

Before the cancer struck, she was the most energetic, lively person I knew. She had this infectious laugh that would make everyone around her smile, no matter how bad their day was. She was the glue that held our family together, the one who always knew how to make everyone feel better. Now, she was nothing more than a shell of her former self, lying in that hospice bed, her once-vibrant eyes now dull and lifeless. She was fully numb, unable to feel anything, drugged up on painkillers that made it impossible for her to even talk properly.

As the morning sun hit, I knew it was another day where I'd have to deal with the reality of what was happening. I forced myself out of bed and went downstairs, making a cup of coffee as I tried to decide what to do with my day. My mom was already dressed, and I could tell by the way she looked that she hadn't slept much either. She was wearing her usual tired smile, trying to be strong for her sister and for all of us.

My dad seemed to be handling this the best out of us all, but I could still tell this was taking a toll on him too. He'd go to the hospice every day, spending hours just sitting with her, holding her hand and telling her stories about when we were younger. It was like he was trying to keep her memory alive, trying to make sure she didn't fade away completely. I admired him for that.

My sister, Calista, she was handling this the worst of us all. She had always been close with our aunt, and now she was a mess. She cried constantly, even when she thought no one was looking. She would sleep for hours, wake up, and then cry some more. It was heartbreaking to watch. I wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, but I couldn't bring myself to lie to her. I knew she needed someone to talk to, to lean on, but at the same time, I didn't want to be a constant reminder of what was happening.

Before I headed to the hospice, I made my way to my auntie and uncles home, I knew my uncle would need some sort of support, and I couldn't help but feel guilty that I hadn't been there for him more, I mean he was losing his wife. I was still struggling with the thought of her dying, I didn't want her to leave us.

As I got to the door, I got the keys out of my pocket, my uncle had been kind enough to give them to me, to let myself in whenever I felt like it. I could hear him in the living room, the familiar sound of his heavy footsteps pacing the floor. He wasn't one for sitting still, always moving, always doing something. It was as if he couldn't bear the thought of being idle while his wife fought this battle.

My uncle felt like a second dad to me. Back when I lived in Australia as a kid, he was the one to pick me and my sister up from school, make us dinner when our parents were working late. He was always there for me, even though I didn't really know or appreciate it at the time.

"Hey, uncle." I opened the door and he looked shocked, scared almost,

"Oh hi Dem. What you doing here at this time? You're usually asleep?..." He seemed really shifty, not meeting my eye. I could tell he was trying to hold it together but he was obviously struggling.