Tainted Blessings • book two

•Dean~3•

If it was possible, Roman and I had completely switched roles.

I use to take care of Roman, keep a close eye on him. Fix his medicine, and make sure he would be ok when I wasn't going to see him for a day or so.

I had grown accustomed to it. It was apart of my everyday life. I liked taking care of my brother, it made me feel important.

But now that the roles are in reverse, I can't help but feel like a burden. I feel like Roman is constantly doing the things that I would do.

He had completely taken off work for the past four months. He had vacated the title and really hadn't shown any signs of going back. Nobody seems to have a problem with it, except maybe his fans. Hunter came to visit the both of us often, wishing us well and never held a grudge for Roman's decision. Seth came and visited us on his off days, but not because of me. I think him and Roman sorta have a thing, but he never admits to it.

Roman truly was doing more than was ever asked of him. If I needed something, he got it for me. When I had broken arms he fed me. When I started to learn how to walk again, he was right there with his arm around my waist and helping me remember how to move my feet. He recited the alphabet with me when I had trouble forming words.

He was patient. He never rushed me into doing anything and he never showed any signs of distress... to my face that is.

I had often snuck glanced at Roman when we appeared stressed or tired, but he never said a word to me. It made me feel bad because the guy already had stuff he was dealing with, now he's pulling it together for me.

He's my brother and I love him... but he really didn't have to do this. I would have completely understood if he kept working.

He truly only rested when he was sleeping, so I tried to giving him as much time to sleep as possible.

He currently laid on the couch near the window of the room. His arms were crossed over his chest as his upper body laid down on the couch while his legs were stretched outward towards the ground. He looked extremely uncomfortable, yet that's how he had slept for over 4 months.

I quietly sat up in my bed, then struggled to reach for my wheelchair that was next to the monitor. After a few moments, I was able to grab the handle and wheel the chair over towards my bed.

After quietly standing up, I slowly lowered myself into the chair before wheeling myself towards the door. I opened it as quiet as I could, the light from the hallway shining bright into the dark room.

I gave one glance back at Roman, who hadn't stirred a bit, then rolled out of the door and let it slowly shut behind me.

I began to roll myself down the hallway just like I had done almost everyday for about three months.

I stop at the end of the hall next to the window. It was the closest thing I had to a balcony.

This window had been my escape. My safe heaven in the mad house. I couldn't go outside, but I enjoyed watching others come and go. At least they could leave.

During my time coming to this window, I had managed to make a friend. His name was Mr.Davis. He 95 years old, had dark skin and grey hair, but kindest eyes you'll ever see. He was sick, but had tried to convince me he only had a bad cough.

In reality, Mr.Davis was actually terminally ill. I'm not sure what the cause of it was, but I knew he was sick enough to be here one day and gone the next.

Mr.Davis also had Alzheimers. I know it's funny when old people can't remember somethings but it was honestly really sad.

Everyday I did the same thing. I'd get up and wheel myself down to the window and Mr.Davis would show up around six that morning. He'd introduce himself to me everyday and tell me that I reminded him of his son. Then we'd talk about his daughter, who's name was Nikki, and his two grandchildren. He had a seven year old granddaughter names Paris and a new born grandson named Rome. His daughter obviously had a thing for naming children after foreign cities.