It's a Dylemma

Chapter Three

Emma

" You came home late the other day. "
Dad said as he ripped the the poor old owl's skin out of it's body.
All its feathers were laid out in dad's 'surgical table', and the eyes were still attached to it making it look like a pink, bony, meaty little beast.

" Oh you know... Studying. " The smell never got old, some people say it gets better, that you get used to the things that are constant. But this was horrible, always, all the time.

" Since when do you study this late? I was worried, Emma you have a condition and-"

" I know, dad. " I started going up the stairs, yesterday was lovely really.

He sighed,
" You know I'm just looking out for you. "

" I know." I smiled at him. I walked over to the stairs, now here's the thing about stairs and oxygen tanks, they don't make a good pair. I struggled to get my tank up the stairs, but I tried my best not to make a sound. My dad, he'd worry and he'd try to help me and then he'd even try do make a ramp. He'd fall a couple times off that ramp, then he'd try to take his studio somewhere else. When you're on your own you tend to overthink,

" Sure you don't want any help love? " He said without taking his eyes off the desecrated animal.

" No, I'm fine. Besides the doctor said some exercise here and there can do no wrong. " Walking up the stairs was as much exercise as I'd ever get.

Entering my room just felt... odd. It was as though I had entered the house of a complete stranger, I couldn't explain it. It was like overnight everything had changed, and I felt the sudden need of painting over all the walls and breaking every record I had collected over the years.
The truth was, I knew I was dying. I overheard the doctor talking with my dad once, I was seven. It was two years after I was diagnosed, my mom still lived with us, those were the years when I still had hope. But the doctor said it was a miracle if I ever were to make it to twenty. Since then, every year feels like a countdown, like I had this bomb inserted in my chest and it's just waiting to go off.

The other day something different happened, when I was with Dylan I forgot all about it. Not for a long time, but a minute or two really was all I needed. It may seem silly, moronic even but it works for me because every second of my life where I could just turn all my problems off is a second worth wasting.

Dylan

" Goddammit Norma! "
Norma was chugging on the bottle, sitting on the steps and crying her eyeballs out. Like she's the victim here.
Norman was stilling on his bed, he was just staring out of the empty window. His eyes were so cold and dead, I have found him three times like this. I went to talk to her, I was so freaked out I shook him even slapped him a couple of times he was like a corpse.

" Answer me dammit what's wrong with him?! "
She kept chugging, Norma never did drink before. Not even when that he beat her, she always smiled the next day and we'd pretend that it never happened.

She lowered the bite and dried off her tears, " Your brother is sick Dylan. "

" Yea, no joke. "

In between muffled tears and incoherent words she managed to say, " He doesn't- it's like he's asleep, he's unconscious and he does things. He doesn't really mean to do those things, he didn't mean to. He didn't mean to. He didn't mean to. "
I've just about had it, this is a mess. I can't do it. I don't want the responsibility, the pain, drama, and discomfort that comes with this messed up family. I got out once and I'll do it again if I have to. Selfishness? Maybe but no one's going to save me if I don't save myself. And I'm sure as hell not going back to that hellhole, coming here was a mistake.