Relative Fiction | ✓

28

The first thing I noticed was the light, and for a moment I actually thought I was dead. I went to move, and my body refused. Every bone, every muscle, and every nerve screamed.

"Are you actually awake?"

I immediately recognized the screech of my sister's voice, and the light above me darkened as she craned her head over me, her hair brushing against my face. She glowered at me, but her eyes were still glazed over with tears.

"Holy shit, you are."

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a noise that sounded like a dying frog. The room around me began to come into focus, and the stark white of all the walls and floors and the stiff itchiness of the blanket over me made it easy to put the pieces together. I had never actually been in a legitimate hospital room before, but it was exactly how I assumed it would be. A plastic clip was clamped over my index finger, and the beeping of the heart monitor echoed faintly off of the walls.

So I wasn't dead, but that was probably because Death had cooked me, taken a bite, and said ew, this tastes like asshole, so he spit me back out. I brought my hand up to my face, poking at the tube stuck up my nose.

Stella slumped back into the plastic chair to the left of my bed and rubbed her nose on the back of her hand.

"You fucking asshole," she grumbled.

Even though my memory was spotty, I didn't want to ask. When reality hit me, my stomach gurgled and lurched, and I was sure I was going to be sick, or faint, or both.

"If you're gonna puke, here's a bucket." Stella held it out in front of her.

Even though I tasted rotten bile at the back of my throat, I frowned and shook my head.

"Where's..." speaking felt like someone was dragging spikes up and down the inside of my throat. I took a deep breath and tried to continue. "Where's mom and dad?"

"Talking to your doctors," Stella replied. "You only started breathing on your own yesterday. They were actually worried you'd have brain damage. Personally, I don't see how your brain could be damaged any more than it already is."

Stella kept her tone casual, but the blotchy redness in her cheeks and the wrinkles on the front of her oversized College of Charleston t-shirt told a different story, and I wondered how many nights she had slept on the stiff couch on the other side of the room.

"Do you have any idea what it's like?" Stella's voice dropped to a soft whisper. "To find your older brother half-dead, choking on his own vomit?"

I sighed and closed my eyes, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit me like a runaway train.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, looking over at my sister again. "I didn't mean to-"

"Well I'll tell you, it fucking sucks," she bit back at me, but her voice held the slightest quiver. "I'm just...I'm just happy you're not dead."

She leaned forward over my bed again and glared at me. "But if you ever do that again, I'll make your life such a living hell, you'll wish you were dead."

I chuckled, and she sat back in her chair, putting her hand over mine and running her fingers over my knuckles. I came in and out of sleep the rest of the day, but when I was awake, I kept my eyes on the sliding glass door of my room, feeling the tiniest sliver of hope in my heart that AJ would come rushing through the doorway. She never did.

✗✗✗

My parents and Dr. Andrews, a tiny woman who couldn't have been more than 10 years than me, decided an in-patient program at the hospital was the best option for me. I was close to home and I could leave the facility with my parent's supervision, but I was going a minimum of 45 days no matter what. Even though it was all an accident, I didn't fight any of it. I was too tired to fight. I was too tired of teetering on the edge.