~the undead Diaries~ (re-editing!!)

sleep at last

God, how was I going to do this? The weight of uncertainty pressed heavily on my chest, and a wave of self-doubt washed over me. I wasn't good enough to take care of my little brother in a world like this, filled with chaos and fear. With a deep breath, I forced myself to move through the familiar spaces of our new home, checking everything as if routine could somehow offer comfort or stability.

I wandered around, making sure the doors were locked and the windows secured, each creak of the floorboards beneath my feet echoing my anxious thoughts. Everything seemed fine, yet a sense of unease lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. Once I finished my rounds, I made my way up the stairs to my room.

As I approached my door, I noticed Brodey's door was slightly ajar. Curiosity and concern pulled me closer, and I gently peeked through the narrow gap. My heart sank at the sight before me. Brodey sat on the edge of his bed, bathed in the pale light of the afternoon. His small frame trembled slightly as he clutched a worn photograph of our parents. It had been taken long before our world turned upside down, capturing a moment of joy that now felt like a distant memory.

Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, glistening in the light as he pressed the picture to his chest as if trying to absorb the love and warmth it represented. A deep ache settled in my chest, knowing how powerless I felt at that moment. I wished I could bridge the gap between our struggles, but I knew all too well that comforting him was beyond my reach right now.

With a heavy heart, I stepped back from the door, quietly retreating to my room. I wanted to ease his pain, to be the older sister he needed, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was fumbling in the dark, trying to find a way out for both of us.

After a long day, I finally decided it was time to get ready for bed. However, before settling in myself, I felt a pressing need to check on Brodey again and ensure that he was safe and sound in his little sanctuary.

I made my way down the dimly lit hallway, the soft glow of nightlights casting gentle shadows on the walls. As I approached his room, I could hear the faint sound of his gentle breathing through the slightly cracked door. Taking a deep breath, I slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open with all the care I could muster.

The sight that greeted me was endearing. Brodey lay curled up in his bed, enveloped in a cozy quilt decorated with stars and planets. His cherubic face was relaxed and peaceful, framed by messy tufts of hair. In his arms, he clutched the stuffed animal I had given him for his birthday two years ago—a floppy-eared rabbit that had seen more than a few adventures. It was heartwarming to see him still finding comfort in it, even after all this time. I smiled softly, knowing he felt safe in his little world.

He looked so safe and peaceful. I wish I could just fall asleep like that. I mean, who wouldn't be having a horrible time? This world is f*cked up. To be Frank, I wish I could just walk out there. Just walk out of this house and let the harsh world take me.

That would be a stupid choice, but what else could I think of? No, that can't be right. I would never abandon Brodey; he's not just my best friend, he's my brother in every way that matters. I told my father that I would always stand by him, yet here I was, caught up in these troublesome thoughts of leaving him behind. What is wrong with me?

Feeling the weight of my emotions, I shuffled back to my room, the familiar surroundings providing little comfort. As I climbed into bed, the sheets felt heavy like a reminder of my worries. I let my gaze fall on the ceiling, tracing the patterns in the shadows. My mind raced, replaying every moment of our bond, the laughter, and the secrets we shared. Slowly, the darkness of night enveloped me, pulling me under until I drifted into a restless sleep, questions lingering on the edge of my thoughts.

"Wake up, WAKE UP!!" I shot upright in bed, panic coursing through me as I gasped for breath. The room was dim, but I quickly turned my head to my left and found my brother gazing at me with a rather neutral expression, as if my outburst hadn't fazed him at all. "What do you want? Why did you wake me up? Oh my gosh, what time is it?" My heart raced with concern, a wave of disorientation washing over me. I needed to know if something was wrong, but his face gave me no clues.

"Nothing happened," he replied casually, rubbing his eyes as a yawn escaped his lips. "I'm just hungry, and I don't know how to cook for myself. It's 9:15 right now." I groaned inwardly. I knew he struggled in the kitchen—he could barely make toast without burning it—but I was too exhausted to muster any enthusiasm for breakfast or brunch, whatever mealtime it was supposed to be.

"Ugh, fine! I'm getting up. Just head down to the basement storage and find something you want me to whip up, okay?" I almost didn't want to get out of the warm cocoon of my blankets, but my brother wasted no time, bouncing out of the room and bolting down the stairs with surprising energy.

Reluctantly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and planted my feet on the cool hardwood floor. I took a moment to shake off the remnants of sleep before forcing myself to go through my morning routine. First, I stumbled into the bathroom to brush my teeth, the minty flavor refreshing yet jarring. Next, I swept my hair back into a messy bun, strands escaping to frame my face. Finally, I dressed in a comfortable outfit, opting for a soft t-shirt and sturdy leggings.

As I made my way down the stairs, I could hear Brodey's voice carrying up from the basement, filled with excitement as he rummaged through the shelves. His yells echoed in the hallway, and I couldn't help but smile despite my fatigue at the thought of his enthusiasm. It looked like it was going to be one of those mornings—chaotic but full of energy.

It took me about 40 minutes to prepare his meal, and he opted for a classic breakfast of crispy bacon and fluffy scrambled eggs. His choice was undoubtedly a delicious one, combining the rich, savory flavors of the bacon with the light, creamy texture of the eggs. As I sizzled the bacon in the pan, the enticing aroma filled the kitchen, making it hard to resist. The eggs, beaten until smooth and airy, transformed into the perfect golden curds as I cooked them gently over low heat. It was a satisfying cooking experience, knowing I was making something so beloved.When I took the food to the dining room, there he was, sitting at the table with a wide grin, his favorite dish ready to be spread before him: a hearty plate of bacon and eggs. Memories flooded back to me, recalling how much he loved this breakfast staple when he was a child. I could almost hear his enthusiastic pleas to Mom and Dad every morning, begging for this delicious comfort food before heading off to school.