I Don't Believe

I Don't Believe - Chp 8

“Loving can cost a lot but not loving always costs more, and those who fear to love often find that want of love is an emptiness that robs the joy from life.” ~ Merle Shain

“Then Aimee said that she was a princess and I was the wicked witch!” Gabby cried skipping beside me and holding my hand tight as we walked home.

I hummed in acknowledgement, trying not to squeeze her hand to death.

“So than I said it wasn’t fair and Thomas said that I wasn’t the wicked witch because I didn’t have a big nose so than Aimee became the wicked witch! She told me later though that I do really have the biggest nose, mine bigger than hers!” she cried dramatically throwing her other hand around as she skipped alongside my zombie like pace since her legs were so tiny.

“Oh, okay.” I said my voice somewhat similar to a zombie, I don’t think she’d even realize though at how induced into her story she had become.

“She said that the reason why he liked my nose better is cause he likes me!” she cried giggling with rosy red cheeks and a goofy excited smile that I could recall all so commonly. “So Aimee and I tomorrow at school are going to get ready to marry!” she squealed as we walked up the garden path.

I hummed rolling my eyes not that she noticed.

Today had been more than long and torturing enough, I was having one of those days that I literally just wanted to bash the crap out of anything that pasted and I simply had no tolerance. I was grumpy, moody and pissed all from today’s awful day, starting with Ty calling me at four in the morning tan texting me right through to seven when I was meant to wake up for school. I than got to school to see he wasn’t even at school and I was piled with assignments and homework to the point I even wanted to punch Charley a couple times.

Now here I stood by my sisters side having to walk home with her as she droned on and on about her princess like life that reminded me so much of my old self that I wanted to shake my little senseless so the brutality of reality could sink in. I know she is only young but if she kept dreaming like this she was going to be severely hurt and crushed. I after all knew more than anyone how brutal and inconsiderate reality was, they didn’t give a damn how they broke the news to you they just did it.

A large part of me just wanted to bundle my little sister up and race her inside; throwing her in a padded white cell and showing her bunch of chick flicks of break ups, or even films about friendship and family. Anything rather than giving her the idea that fairytales are real, if it meant action killing scenes I’d do it, hell it would be worth it by the end and she’d thank me later.

Another part of me wished that she was a boy; I had yet to meet one guy that dreamt of their wedding from such a young day or dreamt of their first kiss. If I did in all honesty I’d be worried, honestly worried. Boys had it so simple, they were after all the people that crushed females’ dreams and behind the brutality of reality, to be a male you wouldn’t be stabbed in the back so awfully and you sure as hell would know of the truths that raced through the minds of the boys around you.

It was too late to save myself from the brutality of all around us, the truth about love and marriage. I had already experienced and witnessed heartbreak so much that I could never watch a chick flick without snorting or even smashing it to bits. My sister however could be saved and I’d dedicate my entire life to protecting her, keeping her heart intact. Yet how do you break it to a six year old that all those bedtime stories and Disney flicks are a bunch of bullshit?

“Bailey?” she cried jumping up and down causing my body to bend and lean into her as it protested from being yanked out of place “You aren’t even listening to me!” she huffed, folding her arms and pouting.