A second habit of mine was to walk up the wooden stairs loud enough that my eighteen year old sister could hear me stomping [over her loud but surprisingly spectacular music taste] quickly getting the hint that I was, as she put it ‘on my period, minus the blood but with added raging male hormones’. Once I reached the outside of my room I banged my head on my poster of John Lennon to push it open and once inside I kicked the door closed.
I guess you could say I was clean. I mean my bed was made, my bookcase was always half empty, my desk only harboured my pair of black JVC headphones and my laptop. There were zero aging socks on my beige floor not to mention any pairs of underwear to be seen in Hein sight. Maybe I was slightly OCD but only because it was easier this way to track if my Mom or Sister had been snooping around my room.
As always exactly 2 minutes after my sister had heard me stomp up the stairs then loudly shut my door she hastily made her way downstairs probably asking my mother something along the lines of: ‘Did you mention Dad or hospital to him again?’ This would probably be followed by a nod from my mother and my sister hugging her and saying that she'll talk to me then sprinting upstairs to knock on my door either 3 or 4 times [depending on her mood] and then letting herself in. My sister is something she likes to call ‘enthusiastic but not preppy’.
I waited for her 17 quick thumps up the stairs followed by her knocking on my door 3 times and letting herself in. At this point I was lying on my back in a white long sleeved loose shirt and adidas shorts with my eyes firmly closed as my sister belly flopped next to me, playing with her hair and waiting for me to talk.
"Runa I really don’t feel like talking," I whispered as I sat up with a fluffy brown pillow propped up behind me.
"You have to communicate it’s what all the books say plus your doctor told me to ‘be there for you’ no matter what." Undoubtedly she didn’t like this anymore than I did.
I briefly shut my eyes only to open them to look at my sister smiling beside me. She was what most people would call excitable, I mean with a shade of red hair that was dark yet somehow fluorescent you have to be at least excitable. Her eyes were green today, probably a new pair of contacts I thought to myself. She had her hair up in a ballerina bun which she somehow managed to make messy and wore a peachy summer dress despite the fact that it’s almost winter and that we live in Norway. Unlike me she had slight freckles and her skin was slightly more beige than mine which constantly made her look more like any other ethnicity except Norwegian but she was happy so I saw no issue.
"How long will this numbing pain last? I mean it hurts with such a vivid colour that I’m beginning to wish I was blind."
She stared up at my ceiling light and exhaled whilst murmuring:
"Just for a moment."
I guess my life up to this point has only been a second of what is actually about to happen, but then again time is just a concept man made up right?
YOU ARE READING
The Point Of Life.
Short Story"What’s the point in life by the perspective of Alice Hunter."I took in a deep breath and tried to think of what I could say about Alice and as I exhaled I said whatever came to my mind first. "Alice Hunter believes that the point in life is to be...
