Unforgivable Lacerations

Chapter Two

Charlie was getting worse.

Over the past two weeks he was vomiting most nights, headaches twenty-four-seven, short term memory lost and sleeping- a lot. I had tried to persuade him a countless amount of times to go to the hospital to get checked, but he refused every time.

 As I sat in my bed at 3:22am, hearing him vomit in the toilet again, my panic continued to rise. One way or another, Charlie was going to the doctors whether he like it or not. I would drag him there tomorrow, I planned in my head. I would have helped Charlie while he was vomiting, but whenever I went in there to help him, in previous scenarios, he would shoo me away. So I had to listen to it, helplessly, for an hour straight before I heard the floorboard creek indicating that he was going back to bed. I hated to hear him suffer.

I soon awoke to a gray clouded Forks, as usual. I missed Phoenix terribly now that I had nothing here but Charlie, however, I wanted to stay because if I went then they who left me would seem all the more dead to me. The only things that kept my sanity were my imagination of seeing him on the path across the road, pretending that every silver car was his, listening to the piano and humming my lullaby which had been imbedded in my brain.

It was Saturday, much to my dismay,  as I always hated weekends as it gave me more time to think about them, albeit, my mind was always focused on them, or more descriptively, him. School to me now was another time of day that I would think about them while subconsciously doing something; making weekends a time of doing nothing while thinking about him- with the exception of today as I had an action plan in place starting with me dragging myself out of the comfort depths of my bed. 

Starting with brushing my teeth, purposely not looking in the mirror, and finishing with washing my face, I would have usually walked straight out of the bathroom, but today was different. 

When I could not hold back any longer I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked disgusting and miserable. My brown hair was tangled, falling down my torso in uneven, tangled waves, my chocolate brown eyes looked dead with emotion, my pale skin looked paler with dark red and blue blotches under my eyes and my body was thinner than before, which was slightly worrying, but I couldn't make myself care. With the annoyance of how ugly I was, I dabbed some concealer and foundation on and put a brush through my hair. I wanted to look presentable, to at least fool a few people that I was okay, another way of avoiding any stares or concerned looks.

When I was finished, I went downstairs to be greeted by Charlie sitting on the left chair of the dining table reading the newspaper, acting as if he hadn't been spewing his guts out for the majority of the morning. "Mornin' Bells," Charlie said.

"Morning," I mumbled, knowing that I needed to make an effort of talking. 

"You look nice today, are you going out?" Charlie asked, with a hint of hope.

"I'm taking you to the hospital to get checked," I said without any question.

"Oh," Charlie paused, either seemingly surprised at my response or trying to find a convincing excuse. "I'm fine Bells, really, don't concern yourself with my problems," he reassured, but I saw straight through his lies.

"We're going," I continued, my stubbornness apparent in my voice, Charlie knew all too well what I could be like, so he took the clever option of agreeing.

"Okay," was all he said. I then walked past him, grabbed a cereal bar and ripped the wrapper off. In two mouthfuls, I finished it and flushed a glass of milk down after.

"Ready then?" I asked, still in a monotone voice.

"Suppose," he answered, downing the last of his coffee before slamming it onto the table, the noise echoing through the silence of the house.