When The Stars Align

chapter thirty eight | midnight conversations

VICTORIA CARMICHEAL forgot the last time her little brother looked like her little brother. 

She didn't realise when her 5'9 brother grew to be 6'2, when he started standing a little straighter after their mother always complained about his slouch, and when the spark for adventure in his eyes turned a little more serious.

She couldn't remember when her brother last picked up a book to read before bed, or the last time he decided to hit the ice with his friends. She couldn't remember when she started depending on him, instead of him depending on her.

But in the wheelchair she began to push around the hospital hallways was a boy who could barely hold his head up. He barely could keep his eyes open, yet Lysander insisted on having his sister push him around instead of trying to fall back asleep. Nightmares, he told her. He closed his eyes and saw painful faces.

She understood. The same was happening to her. Victoria could hardly focus on her brother's face, covered in stitches. The skin around his right eye was still purple, the black eye probably not disappearing soon. His skin was covered in what would probably end up as permanent scars. And his leg...

Doctors said that it might take months for it to fully repair. A rod was going through his bone, keeping the two halves of his bones together. It was doubtful that he'd be able to walk properly again, instead needing to deal with a limp. Doctor said it would be a miracle if everything healed the way it should.

Good thing that the siblings knew a thing or two about miracles.

The hospital halls were still buzzing with activity, even at that hour. After the attacks on the cities, hospital staff were hardly able to catch a break. They're trying everything to help the victims and their family, but based on the report Lysander gave in his weak state, after his surgery, it seemed like the wounds couldn't be helped.

Victoria looked down at her brother again. His messy brown hair stuck up in places. She ran her fingers through them, and then realised it's been a while since she did that, too.

"Do you remember-" Victoria started, barely able to handle the silence. "-when Mom was pregnant with Vera, when you somehow managed to completely shatter your kneecap during a hockey game?"

A small smile appeared on his thin lips. "Yeah... I do. Dad rushed me to the hospital, where you and Mom already were because she had an appointment."

"And you were so scared to go into surgery and you wouldn't let go of my hand." Victoria pursed her lips. "I told you I'd do anything for you after, so that night after you woke up from the surgery, I managed to sneak you out of your hospital room and we went searching for ice cream or something."

"You rolled me around the hospital like this." He looked up. "And then I pushed you around these halls when you got your tonsils removed when you were twelve. I could barely control the wheelchair."

She let out a small laugh. "And I did it again when..." Her voice trailed off, not sure if she wanted to remind him of the situation.

"When the bullies came after me when I was twelve, broke my arm," Lysander finished his sister's thought. "The high school was right across from the middle school. You walked out of the building and ran across the street, got them off me." He shook his head slowly. "I think that was the last time they picked on me."

That was the last time Victoria saw him injured like this - only, now it's about ten times worse. "You never fought back."

"I didn't want to hurt people."

Lysander looked down at his arm. Victoria knew he wasn't thinking of the memory of the bullies, but he was actually looking at the stitches. There were no scars from his broken arm, there were just memories.