The Invisible Silver Lining [CURRENTLY BEING EDITED]

Chapter 3

RE-EDITED

-CFF

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Its been three weeks. 

Summer is almost over and I've only left the house four or so times since the accident. I have no desire to get back out in the world. The only reason why I headed out the front door in the first place over the past month was to pay visits to a shrink and a doctor. I went to the shrink once. That was enough for me. Don't get me wrong, therapists can help people get through immensely rough times. Its just not what I need. 

My doctor said I've been suffering depression. That it is normal for people who have been traumatized in some way to have the same symptoms as me. But that's the thing. I'm not sad, really. I'm more numb. I no longer experience shock each day. Instead that emotion has morphed into not really knowing just what to feel. There's so much emptiness in the room.

We all grieve in different ways. Usually I sit on the couch, watching shows with no point to them, or playing video games in my room. All the same ones I've played countless times before. Mom has spent almost everyday, after she's back from work, baking. She's made enough cookies, cakes, muffins and the like to open a small bakery. Dad works later and later hours. I rarely see him, he's added so much overtime to his schedule. This was how the three weeks passed by.

Dad refuses to talk about Liz. Whenever we try he just shuts down, pretending he never heard the comment. Mom and I will talk about how it used to be sometimes. Its too painful to do it too often. I know she misses teaching Liz, as much as I miss playing with her. I miss talking to here about worthless things like cloud bunnies and how a violin dries out. About boys and whether or not skaters are cuter than surfers. 

Liz loved making friends, especially with boys. She was so much better at that then I am. My little sister could form a new best friend and a scheduled get-together in less then ten minutes. She was that talkative, full of yearning for people interactions. That ten year old was gorgeous, so sweet and playful in personality and looks. Had she been enrolled in a public school, her place would be in the popular group. Simply because of her irresistibly sweet nature everyone fell in love with. Her face had the look of "I like you! Want to be friends?" with everyone she met.

She was everything I wanted in a sister. Yes we argued at least twenty times a day, but that was one of the ways we showed how much we loved each other. It was our special way of showing love. We were close. And deep down, I know she will always stay with me, my youngest best friend and only sister.

With a loud sigh I push myself up off the couch and head upstairs to my room. There are two staircases in our house. One in the kitchen and one near the front of the house. The one I take sits in the living room. Once you reach the top, you find yourself in an open hallway. Walking down the hallway will lead you to my room, a bathroom, the guest room and Liz's old bedroom. Everything is still in place in her room. Nothing has been touched or removed from its yellow walls. Mom has this thing she said the other day. Something along the lines of how she wants to preserve the room. Personally I don't really care. Its just a room. It's not like she's still living there.

I do enjoy having two sets of stairs. My hand falls down on the bedroom door's handle, wedging it open and pushing myself through the gap. The door clicks shut behind me and I grimace. My room is atrocious. The floor is not visible, there are traces of leftovers and dirty laundry everywhere. The laundry has lain for so long that I have no clue if they are dirty or clean. I'm pretty sure they are covered in dog hair though, as my German Shepard has been sleeping on my bed consistently. The room smells awful. I'm so sensitive to smells, that I'm surprised I haven't noticed the stench before now. My parents say I'm paranoid about scents, but I just don't want to smell bad.