A Life Foretold

Chapter 15: And For Others Who Can't Control

5932 words.

We rushed to the hospital, and it took nearly an hour before they let us visit Alluka. It took even longer for the staff to let me into the room.

"You can't cry," they said. "It'll make her feel guilty and sad."

Not crying was never harder. My throat felt so tight I could choke. Not crying was also harder when everyone around me was crying. In the child emergency room, children were dying all around me– mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters all breaking around me. Children suffering from car crashes, children with cancer, children undergoing CPR, and children, like Alluka, dying from their own actions caused by their own hands.

I stopped crying– stopped by a fragile dam about to give after a fearsome flood by an intense hurricane.

Walking into the hospital room was like a fever dream, one that feels so surreal yet knowing you can come out a different person with a changed life. Like a metronome, the heart monitor beeped. The steady tempo signified life and how robotic it truly is.

Beep, beep, beep.

Alluka was resting on her side, snuggled in a thin hospital blanket. Wires all over seemed to stem from her body like they were a power supply charging a waning battery. Bags of fluid, a bag of blood, and many bags of vomit reeking from the nearby trash can.

Mother was able to stop crying first, so she had time to visit Alluka. Upon noticing me, she nodded and left me alone with my sleeping sister.

With wobbly legs, I made my way next to Alluka, gently falling to my knees to see her face.

It was peaceful. She was peaceful.

Why did dying suddenly become so peaceful when it was torture a mere hour ago?

Perhaps she's not dying after all, I hoped desperately.

Regardless, I wanted to be there to make her as content as possible, though somewhere deep and dark within me, I knew it was for a selfish reason of ridding the guilt.

If Alluka dies here, the blood of my own sister is on my hands.

I ignored the warnings because of them happening so frequently. I grew numb. I ignored the warning because I began to trust my sister and distrust everyone else.

My throat felt tighter, the voices in my mind screaming louder and louder.

The weight of a life.

I clenched the collar of my shirt.

Is it really my fault?

Yes.

Do I really have to face this alone?

Yes.

Will I ever be free?

No.

It was so heavy. It was excruciating. And my body, my soul, my hope— everything was about to be crushed under its immense weight.

My skin grew itchy, and it was the itchiest where arteries pumped blood that kept me alive. My neck, my wrists, all flowing this warm liquid that felt like poison.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

No.

Being alive is so uncomfortable.

I looked at Alluka's face, again.

Comfortable.

Suddenly, she began to stir, and her heart rate slowly beeped faster, indicating she was waking. Her brows gently knit together, and she fluttered her eyes open. They widened upon noticing me. "Killu-" she sat up, coughing. The nurse came over with water but she rejected her. "Big brother," she said clearly this time. Her expression saddened. "Where am I?"