HURT FOR ME

Chapter Thirty-Five - Courage

"True courage is being afraid, and going ahead and doing your job anyhow, that's what courage is."

- Norman Schwarzkopf

Aaron Adair

Taking matters into my own hands, I step forward and relieve the nurse, accepting the small bucket of water. This nurse has been assisting Dr. Kavanaugh for the past five weeks.

With a nod of understanding, the nurse quickly retreats, presenting me with a soft hand towel. Before closing the door, her gaze lingers on Olivia momentarily, perhaps contemplating something.

To prevent the towel from dripping, I give it a gentle squeeze after it becomes soaked in the soapy water. Carefully, I remove the sheet from Olivia's body and begin delicately rubbing the damp towel against her skin, ensuring a thorough and gentle cleansing.

Having provided Olivia with numerous baths during her time here, I recognize that she would extend the same care to me if our roles were reversed. Therefore, I willingly undertake this task for her, knowing that I don't mind it at all. It's an opportunity to show my empathy and support for her well-being.

Despite Olivia's limited exposure to sunlight recently, her skin retains its softness and tan complexion. I make an effort to adjust the curtains meticulously, aiming to create the perfect angle for the light to enter her room, infusing it with vitality and warmth.

Hearing a sudden knock at the door, I respond with a calm invitation, "Come in." Without diverting my attention from the window, I keep my back turned, allowing the person who entered the room to make their presence known.

As I hear the familiar voice calling my name, my body tenses involuntarily, sensing a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Taking a moment to gather myself, I finally turn around to face the person standing before me, acknowledging their presence.

Adrian Adair, my brother.

With a sharp tone in my voice, I direct the question at him, asking, "What are you doing here?"

As he responds, he explains, "People were talking. I heard about her." His hands gesture towards Olivia, indicating that he had received information or news regarding her.

Closing the distance between myself and Olivia's bed, I assert, "She's fine." While it was evident that my wife was far from being okay, I felt no need to share that with him. After all, he wasn't someone who should be concerned about her well-being anyway.

In an unexpected turn, he offers me a look that could be described as sincere. It strikes me as unusual, considering the strained relationship I've had with my brother. We haven't spoken since our parents' passing, and even prior to that, our communication was limited to business necessities.

It becomes evident that despite the shared traumatic experiences from our childhood, I bore the brunt of the abuse. Our father inflicted harm upon both of us, and our mother endured mistreatment as well. However, Adrian, being physically stronger, occasionally managed to fight back. Meanwhile, as a smaller and more vulnerable individual, I found myself helpless, forced to endure our father's beatings alone, as my brother would leave me to face it by myself.

In the aftermath of me taking the life of our father, my brother harbored resentment towards me for several years. He struggled to comprehend the extent of our father's cruelty towards our mother, unable to believe that our father could escalate to such a tragic outcome. However, the sight that greeted me when I entered their house, witnessing our father standing over our mother's lifeless body, affirmed the grim truth of the situation.