The Difference Between Fear and Terror

Untitled Part 38

Buzz... Buzz...

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I bat my hand at the source of the annoying noise, half awake. I partially open my eyes to figure out where I am. The harsh florescent lights are blinding.

Where am I? What am I doing here? I open my eyes fully, expecting the lights this time. I feel stiff and just overall out of it. Numb would be the best term.

I look down at my arm. There is an IV in my hand and bandages up my wrist. Crisp white sheets are covering me. Uncle is in a chair on the side, head held in his hands, shoulders shaking.

Why is he crying? Oh, yeah, it's because I am a failure. I can't even kill myself correctly.

As if sensing my consciousness, he looks up. "Lucian..." he mutters. I cringe at his tone. It is a tone of disappointment. He is disappointed in my failure. That has to be it.

"I'm so relieved you are awake. Alive, I mean." He seems frazzled, puzzled as to why I did what I did. I have no response to offer, so I don't.

He hugs me in an awkward way before speaking again. "I'm going to go get North from the hallway." He watches me as he makes his way out the door, as if he thinks I'm going to disappear if I eave his sight. Sure didn't care about that at all before.

North comes in without Uncle. He looks raging pissed even with his tear-stricken face. "Care to explain why Uncle found you in a puddle of your own blood when he came up to give you food, brother?" He says it in a casual tone that reveals that he is pushing down emotion. And no. I would rather not.

He plops himself down on my bed when I don't respond. I think I see where Sang had the idea of not talking at first. It is easier to not have to explain.

He places his head in his hands and starts to sob. Well, I wasn't expecting that. "I'm sorry." I don't understand what he is sorry for. He has nothing he did wrong. It was all my fault. I pat his arm to show my forgiveness for a guilt he should not have.

I don't think I have ever even seen North shed a tear, much less sob hysterically. "I should have paid more attention to you. I should have noticed. You have so many scars, Luke. How long has this been going on?"

Again, I do not respond. It is easier this way. If I make them hate me then next time their reactions won't be like this.