꒰ The Barowlee Sisters ꒱

꒰ Chapter 1 ~ Sadie-Mae ꒱

⊱ Triggers :
- Vomit

⊱ Word count :
- 1503

                             ────୨ৎ────

I kneeled in front of Ana as she sat on the edge of her bed, her legs curled up into her chest, her small body shaking with sobs as she sniffled.

She plucked out the frayed strings from her nightgown as she muttered an apology. Her voice hoarse and quiet.

"Don't be silly. None of this is your fault.."

I tutted, my tone hushed, careful not to wake Mason. I soaked the rag in water from the bucket beside me and cleaned up the last traces of Anastasia's vomit, cringing and looking away.

I dropped the rag into the bucket and grabbed its handle as I stood.

"I'll grab some medicine tomorrow. Try to get some sleep and go straight to the bathroom if you start to feel sick again."

She nods sadly and unfolds herself, crawling into bed and pulling the sheets over her.

I step closer - careful to avoid the wet floor - and press a quick kiss to her forehead before turning away and quickly leaving the bedroom, jogging up the stairs and closing the basement door softly behind me.

Anastasia has been very ill lately. This is the third night in a row she's stayed up sick, the poor girl.

I walk through the kitchen and into the laundry room, emptying the bucket into the sink and turning on the faucet. I begin to soak the rag into the running water as it splashes and spills around the sink. I thoroughly massage the rag, cleaning out the vomit and gagging in the process. I drop the wet cloth on the counter and grab a sponge, wetting it and cleaning out the bucket.

After a long couple of minutes, I turned off the faucet and draped the rag over it before grabbing the bucket and walking back towards our bedroom.

I open the basement door, cringing at the loud shriek that comes out of it, and descend down the wooden stairs, careful to avoid the squeaky spots. I have lots of practice knowing what floorboard is squeaky and which one isn't. I had to learn at a young age.

I find Ana fast asleep, her face red and breathing heavy. I frown and drop the bucket next to her bed - just in case she has another accident - before pressing the back of my hand against her forehead. She's got a fever.

I stand closer and lean forward, reaching out and grabbing the window above her bed and sliding it open, letting in some cold, fresh air and out the stuffy heat and smell of vomit.

I breath in the air and let out a sigh of relief before turning back around and creeping around Anastasia's bed - still avoiding the moist spot on the floor - before heading for my bed next to hers. I climb the small ladder of the loft bed and tangle myself in the sheets.

Closing my eyes, I try to fall asleep, focusing on the soft hum of the wind, the faint noise of Ana and Masons breathing, the occasional horse neigh from a carriage passing, but after ages of failing to sleep, I begin to mentally schedule what my week will look like.

I've got the night shift tomorrow.. so I can stop by the chemist at lunch after taking Ana to school. Then, on Tuesday, I have school, and on my lunch break, I can race home and take Mason to basketball practice, then dinner with Elzabeth. Ana has a play date on Wednesday, which I need to get her to at 11, and then the lunch and night shift for work. Thursday is the midnight shift, and I will meet up with Mr Abbott at lunch. Friday is Anastasia's dance class in the afternoon, work at morning and lunch, and father's party at midnight. I'm free Saturday except for the Masons basketball game, and then Sunday is church, a late lunch with Mary-Beth, and dinner with dads friend.