Crowns” by Portland Cello Project.
Finally, I felt my eyes grow heavy, focused on that feeling, on the slow floating away, falling under. Still, sleep was long in coming. And my dreams were fraught with strange, disorienting, painful images. Amber eyes, watching me and trying not to, the way mine were drawn to his and to him, in a way I hated and couldn’t quite control. Dreams of Ever asleep, not asleep but in a coma, watching me from behind the veil of the spirit world. She watched me, watched Cade hold me as I cried, and I couldn’t fathom her expression, couldn’t quite see her; she was a silvery translucent ghost whose presence I could only feel as I cried, as I felt the comfort of Cade’s arm around me.
Was it disapproval I felt from spirit-her?
How could it not be? Spirit-me resolved to be stronger, to keep my tears for my pillow, for the silence of my lonely bedroom.
percentage of miracles
Caden
I was covered in sweat, shaking from exhaustion. Everything hurt. Physical therapy was fucking brutal.
I’d withdrawn from school. I couldn’t draw, couldn’t write, couldn’t focus; there was simply no point to going. I had enough money still left over from my father’s life insurance that I could function for a while. I stayed home, read, watched TV and movies, and felt sorry for myself. Eden would come over every day after her last class and we’d go to the hospital together to visit Ever. We’d sit and talk, to each other, to Ever. I’d hobble out into the corridor, try to connect to the shitty hospital WiFi and browse the Internet, idly flipping through the day’s galleries on The Chive or reading articles on Cracked, anything to get away from Eden and to give her time alone with Ever, to talk to her sister.
I felt Ever slipping away. I found myself less and less able to keep up the one-sided chatter that Eden seemed to produce so effortlessly.
Maybe it was I who was slipping away. I was retreating, I knew, back into the numb place I’d lived after Mom died, and even more so after Dad had. I was there again, and it was the only way I’d survive. I couldn’t bear to miss Ever. It was too deep a cut through my heart. Talking to her made me miss her. She was there, breathing, heart beating, but she wasn’t there. She wasn’t listening. I wasn’t sure if I believed she heard me or not.
I was slipping away.
Eden forced me into the present, into feeling. She made me feel strange things. I missed Ever when I looked at Eden, but I also saw Eden for herself, and I saw her as a friend, as a companion in misery, in missing Ever. I didn’t see her as a sister, or as a family member. She was just Eden, and she looked so, so much like Ever, too much, and it hurt, but she also looked different enough to confuse me, to hit me where I couldn’t fight it.
So I took every opportunity, whenever we were forced to be in the same room, to do anything but look at her, to be anywhere but close enough to touch her, even accidentally. I’d hold my pee for hours rather than let her help me stand up, and I’d make sure to not see her grief so I didn’t have to touch her to comfort her.
It was tense and awkward.
Physically, I was a mess as well. I’d had rods and screws put in my leg, which meant being in a cast for three months. It was a long three months. I’d always been active, and to be a couch potato for that long was hellish. I grew dependent on fast food on the way home from the hospital, cafeteria food, easy-to-microwave meals. Unhealthy food.
I grew dependent on Eden. She drove me everywhere I needed to go, to the hospital and home, shopping. She was the only person who visited me, and the only person I talked to. Nick Eliot had dropped out of the picture again, as far as I could tell. He’d visited Ever a few times, I’d seen him when I was there, but I had no idea if he’d made any attempt to get closer to Eden as a result of all this.
Now out of the cast, I was
Finally, I felt my eyes grow heavy, focused on that feeling, on the slow floating away, falling under. Still, sleep was long in coming. And my dreams were fraught with strange, disorienting, painful images. Amber eyes, watching me and trying not to, the way mine were drawn to his and to him, in a way I hated and couldn’t quite control. Dreams of Ever asleep, not asleep but in a coma, watching me from behind the veil of the spirit world. She watched me, watched Cade hold me as I cried, and I couldn’t fathom her expression, couldn’t quite see her; she was a silvery translucent ghost whose presence I could only feel as I cried, as I felt the comfort of Cade’s arm around me.
Was it disapproval I felt from spirit-her?
How could it not be? Spirit-me resolved to be stronger, to keep my tears for my pillow, for the silence of my lonely bedroom.
percentage of miracles
Caden
I was covered in sweat, shaking from exhaustion. Everything hurt. Physical therapy was fucking brutal.
I’d withdrawn from school. I couldn’t draw, couldn’t write, couldn’t focus; there was simply no point to going. I had enough money still left over from my father’s life insurance that I could function for a while. I stayed home, read, watched TV and movies, and felt sorry for myself. Eden would come over every day after her last class and we’d go to the hospital together to visit Ever. We’d sit and talk, to each other, to Ever. I’d hobble out into the corridor, try to connect to the shitty hospital WiFi and browse the Internet, idly flipping through the day’s galleries on The Chive or reading articles on Cracked, anything to get away from Eden and to give her time alone with Ever, to talk to her sister.
I felt Ever slipping away. I found myself less and less able to keep up the one-sided chatter that Eden seemed to produce so effortlessly.
Maybe it was I who was slipping away. I was retreating, I knew, back into the numb place I’d lived after Mom died, and even more so after Dad had. I was there again, and it was the only way I’d survive. I couldn’t bear to miss Ever. It was too deep a cut through my heart. Talking to her made me miss her. She was there, breathing, heart beating, but she wasn’t there. She wasn’t listening. I wasn’t sure if I believed she heard me or not.
I was slipping away.
Eden forced me into the present, into feeling. She made me feel strange things. I missed Ever when I looked at Eden, but I also saw Eden for herself, and I saw her as a friend, as a companion in misery, in missing Ever. I didn’t see her as a sister, or as a family member. She was just Eden, and she looked so, so much like Ever, too much, and it hurt, but she also looked different enough to confuse me, to hit me where I couldn’t fight it.
So I took every opportunity, whenever we were forced to be in the same room, to do anything but look at her, to be anywhere but close enough to touch her, even accidentally. I’d hold my pee for hours rather than let her help me stand up, and I’d make sure to not see her grief so I didn’t have to touch her to comfort her.
It was tense and awkward.
Physically, I was a mess as well. I’d had rods and screws put in my leg, which meant being in a cast for three months. It was a long three months. I’d always been active, and to be a couch potato for that long was hellish. I grew dependent on fast food on the way home from the hospital, cafeteria food, easy-to-microwave meals. Unhealthy food.
I grew dependent on Eden. She drove me everywhere I needed to go, to the hospital and home, shopping. She was the only person who visited me, and the only person I talked to. Nick Eliot had dropped out of the picture again, as far as I could tell. He’d visited Ever a few times, I’d seen him when I was there, but I had no idea if he’d made any attempt to get closer to Eden as a result of all this.
Now out of the cast, I was
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