Genevieve Anderson, the girl that had been left behind and forgotten.
In a town where everybody knows everybody, meaning that no one goes unnoticed. Nobody just grabs a bag and leaves in the middle of the night, without someone seeing something. No...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter Forty Three - present
"I went through hell and back, and I can at least be proud, that I am still laying here, breathing. I have you to thank for that, because I would not be here without you, standing by my side"
Blinking my eyes open slowly, I am resting on my side. I can hear the machines beeping, and I keep my eyes trailed on the window, my hands tucked underneath my cheek. I take a deep, shuddering breath, at the reminder as to why I am here. The fact that I had gone unconscious, after being asleep for so long. My breathing rattles in my ribs, as I roll on to my back, just in time for someone to walk in to the room.
And it is the last person that I expected it to be. He too, had been hospitalized, but from what I knew when I was awake and had heard conversations, he was only in for 24 hours. It almost makes me wish that I had never stepped foot in that house. It makes me wish that I had never left my father, and I never would have ended up here. But I had to leave. I had to leave, and they were going to find out regardless, only I never thought it would have been this soon.
To my delight, my brother can read me, and he reads me well. He knows I am looking for someone else, or at least an out of this situation. He chuckles softly, before rolling the doctor's chair over, and clasping my hand closest to him, in the two of his. His usual put-together demeanor has diminished, and it is replaced by this man that is uncertain of me. He has no idea how I am going to react or what I am going to be like.
This trepidation, I had around him. I wore it every day, living with my father. I am used to seeing this look, but rather it is usually painted on my own face. Only now, am I seeing what my brother saw on me, months later. He had to watch this look on my face, and he was the one that was there to watch it get replaced. It is now my turn, as my brother's pain stricken face takes in my own, to watch him rebuild himself, after all this time. This time, where he had his entire life bundled together, without a doubt that it would be like that forever.
When my brother put his mind to something or someone, he set to it. He was all in. He never let any of us half-asse anything, and if we did, he would have pulled us out. That was the person I had known for 5 years of my life, which felt like an eternity ago, yet those 5 years had left a lasting imprint on me. A imprint that I can remember better than I can remember what I ate yesterday. But like I have eaten anything, or had knowledge of eating anything. Everything has been a blur lately. I have gone from one place to the other.
"I wanted to be the first one to wish you a happy birthday" how could I forget, that Jack and I were born 24 hours apart. He was 24 hours before me, and I was 24 hours after him. It was like we were born to be best friends. I smile softly at my brother, while I sigh. The big 1 8. I had made it to 18 years of age, and that realization sunk in, when the room was filled with laughter, as my eldest brother stepped away from my bed, and took pole position by the door. He watched everyone else crowd me, but I still felt hollow. I felt hollow when cake was passed around, and I watched Rocky give up his piece, for someone else, because there was not enough.