Her Dark Shadow

•Chapter 3: Foster Probs•

January 9th:
It's not easy being Ezzie's brother; she gets all the attention, and not just at school, but at home, too. For the three years she's been here, our parents have been drooling all over her with questions like Are you okay, sweetie? ; Would you like anything, darling? ; Is there anything we can do for you, my sweets? ; and You know you can come to us with anything that might bother you, right, darling?.
And then, Hey, Corbs. What's up, buddy? and the occasional pat on the back.
I know most of what happened to Ezrynn, of course I do, and I know it was horrible. I know my parents are trying to get her to totally trust us; who wouldn't lose all manner of it with anyone to ever exist after that? I know I would.
So I get it--Ezrynn's got trust issues, and probably depression, too. She's had six anxiety attacks since she's arrived; usually around Christmas/January, and her birthday.
And I know that my parents don't try to ignore me, that there're priorities to fix someone's life. But a kid that's got it all well can get depression, too. I want them to talk to me again.

This whole brother-and-sister thing isn't new to me--my parents foster children all the time who consider us family. This time, though, it's not just until she gets back up on her feet--this is forever. And I know that's not really a bad thing, 'cause Ezzie's got lots of problems. But when they foster, I know that I'll soon be the biggest priority, therefore I sort of get my parents back. But this is new to me--adopting is forever.
This and my parent's lack of attention leave me not knowing what to do. I don't want to sound or be like a kindergarten baby who does weird things to get attention, but I do want it. I miss my parents talking to me. I miss them talking normal, and not as if they're warming someone up.
I asked my parents why it was taking Ezzie so long to do so, to which they replied with Everyone is different. She's just got a different back story.

January 10th:
Ezrynn stares at me right in the eye, as if to challenge me.
You know what? I'm sick of her! She just asked me for help! And when Dad offers it, she's all, "No thank you, I don't need help, I'm your perfect little angle."
I'm DONE!
•~•
Long story short, I shout some stuff, throw some stuff, break some stuff, and run out the front door. I don't know where I'm going, but it's far from here, that sure as hell's the truth.
As I run toward the four way stop, I hear a scream. I waver in my sprint, wondering if everything's okay. After a while I decide it's Mom; she's seen the vase I broke--it's probably been in the family for generations by now. But I hear the scream again, and this time I stop completely in my tacks. I consider the pros and cons of going to help--con: I could be slaughtered by an ax murderer, and pro: I could save someone else from being slaughtered by an ax murderer--and end up deciding that if something bad were to go wrong and I did nothing about it, I would feel guilty forever, so I follow the sound, already having dialed 911, my index finger hovering over the call button. Little did I know, it was coming from my own house.
When I open the door, ready to judo chop an intruder, I see Ezrynn flipping out on the floor, Dad trying to help her, to make sure she doesn't hurt herself or something, but whatever the case, I help him.
I get her arms and Dad her legs, and we make her as still as possible. Ezrynn squeezes her legs together...oh. Suddenly I'm angry--so angry that I need to remember not to pop Ezzie's hands off.
My mind is running a million miles a minute. She's never done this before. This is different than an anxiety attack. Maybe she's having an allergic reaction--food, animals?--or maybe she's having a seizure. Or something else. Did I cause this? Did I remind her of bad times by showing violence?
I struggle to find a way to help her, calm her down. I kiss her head, and she screams--I don't know how it's even possible--louder than before.
A long time passes, enough to make me wonder if she'll ever calm down, the guilt tearing at my heart. Then a doctor shows up. Ezzie somehow manages to get out of Dad and my grasps at the sight of him. At first, I'm relieved, but the doctor handles Ezzie quite roughly, and I get a little uneasy. Dad must sense my discomfort somehow, because he nods to show me it's okay--the doctor will make it better.
The doctor gives Ezzie a shot into her neck, and she starts to move slower, as if the shot stole all of her energy, which it had--he sedated her. I'm horrified, until the doctor says, "This one lasts ten minutes," and suggests, "You'd better get her onto the couch," so Dad and I do just that.
After the doctor(Rickman is his name)and Dad get done with their conversation and the doctor leaves, Ezzie un-freezes. We hug, say we love each other, and have a nice time.

And I get it now. Ezzie didn't need help; she was pretending. That makes me respect her more than I had. She wanted to spend time with me. Some brother-and-sister action.

Ezzie's my princess.