By The Beach

Oliver's Pov

This morning was beautiful, probably the most of all my days looking out this window. The soft breeze carried the warmth and smell of the beach, plus the sun was just starting to rise which painted the sky in a multitude of mixed pinks, oranges, and soft purples. I took in the beauty as much as I could, knowing the blue sky and clouds would chase away the sunrise spray of colours. I sighed peacefully, resting my chin on my folded hands as I leaned out the window. I felt the morning sunlight start to heat my face, and the corners of my mouth lifted to a smile.
I heard shifting under bed covers coming from my right and I pushed myself up from the windowsill to glance at my sister just as she rolled onto her side.
Well, most of her at least. Since her legs were paralyzed, they were twined together in what would seem like a very uncomfortable position. Her silky brown hair fell in pieces over her face, and yet I could see she was in deep slumber; her relaxed resting face and gentle snores coming from her partially opened jaws.
I frowned for a moment, staring at her, before looking down at my hands. I saw small cuts from where I had blindly injured myself on something over the past days, and tightened them together in hopes I could feel the stinging pain that everyone describes to me.
Nothing
I have a disorder, called CIP, which means Congenital insensitivity to pain. I've had this my whole life, having to watch my sister in pain as she tries to move or wheel herself around. I had felt guilty for many years and tried avoiding her so I wouldn't have that wrenching feeling in my gut from watching her in pain. But now that I'm older, I've gone past that phase, so now I try to carry her around whether it be on my back or in my arms. Because I can't feel the strain on myself for doing it too long. I've definitely gotten close to her, enough that I know we could never be separated again.
"Oliver?" I heard a strained, tired voice say in the back of my head. I realize I've been zoning out, and now Charlie was awake. I put on a big smile and leapt onto the bed, wrapping my arms around her in a tight and loving hug. "Morning, Charlie." I grin at her, sitting back, before helping her up against some piled pillows so she can look at me straight on. She gave me the same grin, before playfully punching me in the shoulder. I couldn't feel it, but my body sure reacted because I had nearly flipped off the bed. Even though her legs were skinny and slightly undeveloped, her arms were strong and it hurt everyone else like hell when she playfully punched them.
"I thought we agreed that you don't launch onto me in the morning!" She laughed, and I stuck out my tongue mockingly but smiled through it. "It's instinct! I've been doing it for years ever since you were born." I exclaimed to her, truthfully.
"I remember mom and pa telling me that you used to try and jump on me when I was just born." Charlie recalled, and we both bursted into laughter.
"Yeah! I was just excited to have a little sis." I ruffled her hair, before jumping off her bed and springing onto my own.
There was a small shelf, and I grabbed one of many comic books. In barely any time, I was flipping through the pages, reading the boxes of speech and admiring the cartoons. I've always tried to draw, but I wasn't as skilled; yet at least. I grinned at these thoughts, swaying my legs over my back repeatedly.