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Chapter 23

Prince's POV

"Let me talk to him." I suggest as I place my hand on Taryn's forearm and stand. She nods and I look around the room as everyone slowly takes their seats again. I sigh and walk to the exit.

"Is everything alright, sir?" the lady at the front desk asks and I nod, attempting a smile. "Yeah. My sister," I point down the hall and the woman nods again and presses her lips into a straight line. "My brother. . .he's taking it really hard." I walk out the doors when she closes her eyes and lowers her head.

"Blanket!" I call for my brother, but he doesn't stop walking. "Blanket!" I call again and he finally stops, but doesn't turn around. He shifts his weight angrily. I can tell he will explode if I'm not careful with my words. 

"Look, Bud, we're all hurt. Okay? It's okay, she—"

"Is she gonna die?" he asks before I can finish my sentence. My heart sinks. Not only what he said, but how he said it. "Blanket. . ."

"I saw how she looked. She's on life support."

"I know." I say and look at the ground. When I glance up, I find Blanket facing me with his focus behind me. I dare myself to step forward, but hold myself back. I don't want to taunt him, so  he doesn't move.

"We can't think like that, Bud. Okay? She's gonna be fine." Blanket throws himself at me. He cries into my chest, and I rub his head and shoulders. I cannot help the tear that escapes my eye, then the many that follow. I rest my chin on my brother's head and close my eyes.

When Blanket pulls away, he wipes his face and looks up at me. "We have to stay positive, okay? For her?"

"For her." He repeats and we both attempt a smile. I wrap my arm around his shoulder and pull him close to my side. "Now, why don't we go back in there and show them everything's alright? They're pretty freaked out with the way you acted."

"I can't help that." he mentions, and I rub his shoulder and laugh. We walk back to the hospital in silence accompanied with sniffles.

Blanket's POV

When I speed walked out of the hospital, I ignored all of the looks my family had been giving me. I can't help the way I react to some things, and this was not the best thing to happen to me—or any of us—right now. I was hoping that somebody would come after me and talk to me like they did to Natalie, but it seemed as if Natalie was the only one who would—and I know she would—but she can't. She's lying in a hospital bed on life support, and it's all because of us.

"Blanket!" I hear my brother call for me, but I believe it's only my imagination and ignore it. When he calls the second time, I know it's real and stop walking. 

"Look, Bud, we're all hurt. Okay? It's okay, she—" 

"Is she gonna die?" the words fall out of my mouth before my brain can process them. I swallow hard and wait for his response, but all he says is my name.

It's hard to not feel hurt when the sister you just found out about is lying on her death bed and you didn't get to say any last words. 

"I saw how bad she looked. She's on life support." again, the words fall from my mouth but I don't regret them. I always say what's on my mind. It has been a habit of mine for a while now, and I wish I could control it.

"I know." Prince says. I look from his face to the ground. It seems to have gotten more and more interesting, as Prince does the same. I kick at the tiny pebbles and sniffle as tears threaten my eyes.

"We can't think like that, Bud. Okay?" my brother says and before him or I both know it, I'm embracing him.

"It's our fault! It's all our fault!" I say into his chest but from the muffle of my voice I believe he didn't hear, or understand me. All he does is rub my back and rest his chin on the top of my head.

I think about the first time I met Natalie. Her and her friend kept staring at me from their lockers and I wondered why. Everywhere I went, everywhere I looked—she was always there. 

When we were paired up for that English assignment I thought things couldn't get worse. I thought she had some crazy obsession with me and that she was annoying. She always stared at me and smiled whenever I looked at her. It's because you're MJ's son. I always thought.

I reminisce through our fights and remember the first one. She pestered me and got under my skin telling me everything she knew about me and how she can read people like a book. Her stubbornness reminded me a lot of myself, and I felt somewhat of a connection to her.

I remember the first time she brought me to her house and showed me all of the things of my dad's that she has and I was amazed. I never thought somebody could love another person so much. She had posters and CD's and dolls and pillows. You name it, she had it with my father's theme. I wondered why everyone obsessed over him so much. He was just another dad. . .just another person.

You can't be born to somebody who has been adored by people practically his whole life and expect to be normal. She said. And she was right.

She is  right.

. .. .

Prince and I cry together for a few moments until I realize we're being ridiculous. I step back and wipe my eyes and nose. I sniffle and look up at him and he does the same. 

"Let's go back and show them everything's alright," Prince suggests, throwing his arm around me and I nod. "They we're pretty freaked out by the way you acted back there." I look down at the ground and laugh. "I can't help that." I say and he laughs too. "I know." he agrees and we begin walking back to the hospital. 

When we reenter the hospital, everyone stands once again as if Prince or I were the doctor telling the family the horrible—or terrific—news. I nod and they smile and sigh of relief. "I'm sorry." I mumble and they all surround me in a group hug, saying nothing.