[here is a story I am working on]
Porcelain Doll
Intro
I knew I was wrong to think these things. But I mean how can you not? I glanced over at mom and saw these two dark pools of pure burning hate. Like something out of a movie or something like that. I guess she cant help it. None of us can really, this horrible thing that has happened. Why bother looking for the light at the end of the tunnel? It only leads to death. But hey, maybe I'm wrong, twisted, ill. I've heard it all before. Its twelve days in to the month and she still can't be on her own. I dont even think she knows we're here. Doctor says the crash was pretty fatal. Shards of glass thrust up into her neck, spine, and skull. You see, what had happened was my sister was at a party, she was a little drunk and she was angry. Her and her boyfriend didn't hit it off that night or whatever. So she thought she would go home and sleep it off or something like that. Well she ended up sleeping here. I dont think she'll ever wake up. She got hit from behind when she backed up. Right into a semi. It shattered the back window and well, like I said, there was glass involved. I remember when we were little. Liza always told me she was afraid of hospitals. I think the whole family was. After dad passed away things got pretty bad. Mom took up drinking again, then started the loss of money, soon after followed the abuse, and now Liza is dying. She's so young. Just 23, I cant help but look around this room now. Cold, silent, it reaks of chemicals to keep the hospital clean. Ha, Liza hates that smell. Too bad she cant smell it. Then maybe a reaction would let us know she was alright. But now it seems like thats asking too much. She hasn't moved in days. Paralysed, distorted, broken. Like a porcelain doll, shattered never to smile or look at you again. Its so amaing how things can go from being ok to being hell in a matter if minutes. Just a week ago it was shopping and parties, college and work. Now its rage, horror, silence, and pain. Mom wont look away. I don't think she really can. Its her youngest, her baby girl, her little Liza. Laying there canatonic. Dead to the world but still feeling the corsing pain. I wonder if mom's feeling her pain too. Her eyes peirce me like daggers as she glares across the room. I feel it like seering flames penetrating into my soul. She's not angry with me. No, but with herself. Like it was her fault or something. Guess thats how most parents feel when there child is dying. I wouldn't know. But I do know how it feels to stare at your sister, nay, your best friend as well. And know there is nothing you can do to help her. It hurts. I believe at this moment a bed of nails would sting less. Its not something you can explain with words. Not words that make sense anyways. Paul is here. Thats her boyfriend. He's been pounding his head for the past hour. Angry at himself for fighting with her. He feels he is the cause. I think he's right. They were never really good for each other. He couldn't keep his women staright. Liar, cheater, angel of destruction. Those are some names for him. but its not about that now. Its about Liza, she has to make it. She just has to. It's ten o'clock in the morning now. I hear the clock from the big bell tower ringing. Breakfast time for us. Medicine time for Liza. We leave slowly. I saw tears leak from mom's eyes as she said goodbye. It was just for an hour but to her I bet it felt like forever. But I guess you really dont know when your final goodbye is gonna happen, right? Her word, when she spoke, had a slight chill to them. The fell out of her mouth like a red carpet or like satin. They seemd to wrap all around you. She was alreasy making plans for the funeral. She said she had to. The doctor told her they needed to cut her off. She wasn't anygood to the world as a person anymore. We left the hospital a few short hours after that. It was quiet at home. Paul left for work at his construction company. Good money for a lowsy man I guess. Thats when it all began.
Part One
"Look Sydney, I know you dont want to believe it, but your sister is dying." "We have to let her go." Thats what mom said to me. Last thing she said actually. I know she meant it in the most sympathetic way possible but, well it had a sort of sarcastic heartless ring to it. Like she was mocking me with what I already knew. I know we have to let her go. I know these things. I listen to the doctor, I take the calls. I was the first to know. I am aware of the situation. But she's right. I dont want to believe. Foolish and selfish I guess to want to keep her alive. She is suffering. But I can't imagine losing my sister. I can't imagine life without her. But I can't imagine what she's feeling either. Somethines I think if she could talk, she would tell us to let her go. Her eyes say it. The way she stares off into space. They're dark now, her eyes. Not the electric green they once were. But black, dialated, huge, longing for a way out, a way to get far from the pain. When your only friends are wires and tubes, and you cant do anything, I dont think you really long to live. But then again your not living are you? No, I think not. You are just being held onto. Till they flip a switch and let you be at peice. As I lay here in bed at two a.m. I think to myself about all the things that are happening or are going to happen. The expenses, the press, the hospital, the people who show sympathy. Mom doesn't need all that. She isnt stable anymore. She breaks down at random times. Because she thinks about it too much. She ponders for a way to save Little Liza from a systematic shutdown that causes the machine to stop the thing called "Life".But still, can you blame her?
I Love...
I love the way you try to avoid conversation with your excuses and 2 minute demonstrations