Lily
◕ ‿‿ ◕ double rainbow.
- 3,328
- Posts
- 20
- Years
- New Joisey
- Seen Jan 14, 2025
My sister is sick.
I?m not sure if it?ll mean anything to you, but she's really, really sick.
Coils of hair gently brushed against her stark, pale face, eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. Weird things cling onto her arms, and the constant beeping of the machine is driving me insane.
My mom says to not worry, because she thinks I?m too little to understand, but that?s not true. I sit by her all day, and then...I talk.
?This is a pony I drew at school,? I tell her, holding up a mass of pink and a hazy blue dot for the eye. ?The other children said that there is no such thing as pink ponies, but I think there is. It could be a crossbreed between a unicorn and a pony, right??
My sister does not reply.
?And,? I try to revive the conversation, ?I punched Jimmy in the face for making fun of me. He said you were bald. Boy, you should?ve seen him, crying like a big baby!? I laugh forcefully, erupting into giggles leaving me in tears, before stopping with a glum sigh.
I lean against her bed, staring intently at the steady breaths she takes, and the loss of hair. My mom told me it was something called ?chemotherapy,? although I don?t know how to pronounce it correctly. I stare at her curiously for a while, wondering if she will wake up.
?Dying...does it hurt?? I ask tentatively.
My sister does not reply. Her eyelids flutter for a brief second, sending a jolt of excitement through my body, before she resumes her usual state.
I can imagine the school day I will have.
The kids will tease be because my sister barely has any hair. They will tease me because they have older siblings alive, and someone to take care of them. If my sister dies, I think, who will brush my hair? My eyes catch her closed ones. The machine?s beeping noise is in a slower pace, and I wonder if that?s a good thing.
?You can?t die, okay?? I gently nudge her on the side, clasping her slender hands. She was really good at piano with them. I would often see her fingers fly across one end to another, leaving me gazing wistfully in envy.
Just vaguely I feel her weak fingers squeeze my own.
Out of her lips parts one word: Sorry.
"Sorry for what?" I ask, bewildered. I think I can see her smile, or it can just be a slight curve balancing daintily on her pretty lips. Unfortunately, it creates a small crack, droplets of bright rubies shimmering as they roll down. Even I know what it is.
"You're bleeding," I panic, frightened. I try bending over to wipe it off with my scraggly t-shirt.
Just at once, I fear I'm going to cry. I swallow that big lump stuck in my throat, burning sensations overwhelming my eyes.
My sister...walking me home from school.
My sister hogging the bathroom all day.
My sister and I having endless conversations late at night about future boyfriends.
My sister going out on a date in her new dress.
My sister begging to go to the mall.
My sister laughing.
Fainting.
Hospitalized.
It is then the beeping stop. I think I have hearing problems, but I don't. My sister is just sleeping, though. Her body is still, eyes closed for eternity. I know she will never come back. But I still search for the constant beeping noise the machine once made, although deep inside, I already know where it is.
Confused, crying, lost.
Gone.
I?m not sure if it?ll mean anything to you, but she's really, really sick.
Coils of hair gently brushed against her stark, pale face, eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. Weird things cling onto her arms, and the constant beeping of the machine is driving me insane.
My mom says to not worry, because she thinks I?m too little to understand, but that?s not true. I sit by her all day, and then...I talk.
?This is a pony I drew at school,? I tell her, holding up a mass of pink and a hazy blue dot for the eye. ?The other children said that there is no such thing as pink ponies, but I think there is. It could be a crossbreed between a unicorn and a pony, right??
My sister does not reply.
?And,? I try to revive the conversation, ?I punched Jimmy in the face for making fun of me. He said you were bald. Boy, you should?ve seen him, crying like a big baby!? I laugh forcefully, erupting into giggles leaving me in tears, before stopping with a glum sigh.
I lean against her bed, staring intently at the steady breaths she takes, and the loss of hair. My mom told me it was something called ?chemotherapy,? although I don?t know how to pronounce it correctly. I stare at her curiously for a while, wondering if she will wake up.
?Dying...does it hurt?? I ask tentatively.
My sister does not reply. Her eyelids flutter for a brief second, sending a jolt of excitement through my body, before she resumes her usual state.
I can imagine the school day I will have.
The kids will tease be because my sister barely has any hair. They will tease me because they have older siblings alive, and someone to take care of them. If my sister dies, I think, who will brush my hair? My eyes catch her closed ones. The machine?s beeping noise is in a slower pace, and I wonder if that?s a good thing.
?You can?t die, okay?? I gently nudge her on the side, clasping her slender hands. She was really good at piano with them. I would often see her fingers fly across one end to another, leaving me gazing wistfully in envy.
Just vaguely I feel her weak fingers squeeze my own.
Out of her lips parts one word: Sorry.
"Sorry for what?" I ask, bewildered. I think I can see her smile, or it can just be a slight curve balancing daintily on her pretty lips. Unfortunately, it creates a small crack, droplets of bright rubies shimmering as they roll down. Even I know what it is.
"You're bleeding," I panic, frightened. I try bending over to wipe it off with my scraggly t-shirt.
Just at once, I fear I'm going to cry. I swallow that big lump stuck in my throat, burning sensations overwhelming my eyes.
My sister...walking me home from school.
My sister hogging the bathroom all day.
My sister and I having endless conversations late at night about future boyfriends.
My sister going out on a date in her new dress.
My sister begging to go to the mall.
My sister laughing.
Fainting.
Hospitalized.
It is then the beeping stop. I think I have hearing problems, but I don't. My sister is just sleeping, though. Her body is still, eyes closed for eternity. I know she will never come back. But I still search for the constant beeping noise the machine once made, although deep inside, I already know where it is.
Confused, crying, lost.
Gone.
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