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i'm so tired of being the girl that i am. making the bed / olivia rodrigo
Buffy Meeks—Macher can remember the 2011 attacks like the back of her hand.
The morning they came home, the house had crime scene tape around it. She watched her fathers heart stop as he approached the door, stopped by a certain Judy Hicks. "She's fine," The blonde reassured, smiling at the child in front of her, "They tried to take her down, but she made it. Julie is a strong woman."
Buffy didn't know who "Julie" was. She knew her mom, the one who baked her a cake on her most recent birthday— the big '09.' She knew Momma, the woman who held her when she cried after Sissy Spacek died in Carrie. But not Julie. Never Julie.
She remembers how quiet the ride to the hospital was. The first time her father didn't say anything, simply tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Juno was thirteen now, biting his nails as his head laid on the window.
"Juliette Meeks—Macher?" Her father hummed to the lady at the front desk.
"Room 14, on floor 2." The lady chirped back. Her bangs were cut too short, and nails were chipped.
Juno took his sister's hand, dragging her across the floor.
People coughing. Machines beeping. Yelling. The stairs. More noises.
There sat her mother. Up straight in her hospital bed, smiling and laughing with Ellie—Marie's mom; THE Gale Weathers. Bandages wrapped around her forearm and stomach.
She watched her father come alive, just as quickly as he had died. "Uh, kids. Me and your mom need to talk." He squeaked out, anxiety ridden in his voice.
Gale walked out as Randy walked in, her arm in a cast. Her eyes softened when she saw the siblings, smiling slightly. "Hey, kiddos!" Her voice was filled with artifical sweetener, the botox pulling at the edges of her face. "Visiting your mom?"
Buffy nodded, "What happened to her?" Her eyes wide with childlike innocence, chewing on her cheek.
That was the day Buffy discovered that some things are better left as questions.
