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lanie__rose.
Title: Sleep
Rating: PG, PG-13
Summary:
He sighed. The sound echoed into the still night air, surrounding him for a brief moment before fading away into the darkness. That was alright with him. He liked the quiet. It was something his family had gotten used to during the past year.
Yet silence was not always a good thing. Especially when it held his sister in a relentless captivity, refusing to let her go, no matter how desperately psychiatrists and therapy sessions fought back. Especially when it was accompanied by the looks, the looks that were supposed to mean something, but that he couldn’t decipher because they didn’t come with a voice. Especially when his parents were away, and it was only him and Alesia in the house, and they might as well have been living in a tomb. Don’t disturb the dead.
The bedsprings creaked and groaned as he turned over, pulling his sheets up to his chin and then letting them slide back down. He didn’t have the energy to fight. No one had the energy to fight. And so they were losing—losing against everything. The silence, the mortgage, his father’s job. His own job.
All of this… God, why? had started with the headline. “Crash after the junior prom: One girl dead, the other barely alive.” Only not in nice, lowercase letters that let you catch your bearings. They were big, uppercase, black letters, still shining with the ink and blood. The article had continued on. “Last night, Ludlum High School’s junior prom ended in tragedy when young Alesia Watkins, 16, drove her vehicle off the road and into a ditch.” From there on, he had only seen phrases. Under the influence… passenger dead… driver in critical condition… inquiry expected…
Only phrases, and he had held the goddamn newspaper in his hands while he sat in the hospital waiting room. It was better that than the reassurances from the doctors. His parents frantically going over the worst that could happen. As time went on, it was better than the trial, seeing his sister’s face when she was sentenced to rehab—Jesus, he had known that she drank, but not that much—or even reading the other papers. He still had this one in the room somewhere.
Not just somewhere, actually. He could have found it in the dark if he wanted to. If he wanted to get up and trip over all the crap on his floor. With his father’s job in jeopardy, they hadn’t been hiring the cleaning people. It was definitely showing.
Once again, he sighed, wondering how his sister was handling all of this. She hadn’t spoken a word since the accident. At first they had thought her vocal chords had been damaged, or something equally drastic, but there was no word from the doctors. Just “post-traumatic stress disorder.” Well, he had been watching Alesia constantly for a year, and there were no signs of stress—either that, or she was just an extremely good actress. Too good an actress.
He remembered the days when they had been happier. It seemed like a strange dream, one of those that was like water: You tried to keep it cupped in your hands, but every second a little droplet slipped away. Alesia’s old smile was fading, the corners turning downwards; his parents’ love was a thing of the past, probably never to return. And as for himself… He had spent so much time worrying over Alesia that he was unable to understand thinking about anyone else. Girlfriends had dumped him because of it. He couldn’t really blame them.
So he lay there, memories wrapped around him just as tightly as the blanket, and almost didn’t hear the door creaking open.
The noise was soft at first, nearly imperceptible, but then there was the sound of light footsteps, moving slowly towards him. Brian turned, squinting in the darkness. His breath caught in his throat as the outline of his sister gradually appeared.
She looked as though she were trying to disappear in her oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, her shoulders hunched over and shivering in the cold house. Heating had been less of a priority, now that his father was getting fewer payments.
“Les?” he asked uncertainly, sitting up to look at her better. She was shaking visibly; as she sat down on the edge of his bed, he saw a pair of sunken eyes darting around the bedroom. “What’s wrong?”
Still trembling, she wrapped her arms around her knees and drew them close. He could hear her breath rattling in her chest, and wondered if she was getting sick.
“Is everything alright?” Damn, he hated these one-sided conversations. They always seemed to end in one of them storming off in a huff. Once, he had even hit her.
But not tonight. Her dark brown eyes widened, and she opened her mouth. Brian felt his heart stop as she whispered hoarsely, “Nightmare.”
A year. A whole year had passed since she had spoken, and her first word was nightmare.
“What was it about?”
“Rory.” She went to lean against the pillows beside him, and he shifted over to make some room. Rory. Rory who was currently six feet under an unforgiving gravestone.
He didn’t have a good reply. It was difficult for him to talk, now that she had started again. “What about her?” he had to ask.
Alesia shrugged, taking a fistful of the blanket and twisting it fiercely. “In the car,” she muttered. Her voice sounded strangled.
“Les, it’s over.” Shit, why did he have to say that? The conversation was as awkward as if they were strangers—which they almost were—but he couldn’t have come up with anything better?
“I know…” Alesia’s voice wavered. He glanced over at her, and saw her eyes shining… God, were those tears? “I killed her,” she said, and now her cheeks were shining as well. “I killed her.”
“Alesia.” Then he had put his arms around her and was holding her tightly as she sobbed, the noises echoing miserably in the empty house. Her tangled brown hair was pressed against his cheek, shuddering violently with each fresh wave of tears. He could feel every vibration of her body as she cried, and wondered how long it had been since she let her emotions take control, how long it had been since she started holding everything in.
For the next half hour he held her, and even when her sobs relented he did not let go. She was leaning against him comfortably—as most of his girlfriends had done, actually—and did not seem particularly inclined to get up, either.
“B-Brian?” Her voice echoed plaintively in his ears, and he tilted his head to hear her better.
“Yeah?”
“Can I stay here tonight?”
He paused. It was one thing to comfort his sister after a nightmare, but it was another thing entirely to sleep with her. They hadn’t done that since they were little children, and had to share a bed in a hotel room. Now he was eighteen, she seventeen, and they were in their own house, with her bedroom just down the hallway. His parents definitely wouldn’t think it appropriate.
“Please?”
To hell with them, he decided. “Sure.”
She fell back into silence again as he pulled down the covers, letting her crawl in beside her. It was a twin bed, so the fit normally would have been a little tight, but she had lost so much weight over the past year that an extra body hardly made a difference.
Her back settled in against his chest—was it wrong for him to notice that it was a perfect fit?—and he put an arm around her as she laid her head on the pillow. “Goodnight,” he heard her whisper.
“Goodnight,” he replied, reaching out to stroke her hair gently. She sighed, and he could almost see her closing her eyes.
“Mom and Dad’ll be happy, right?” Alesia sounded so tentative, so unsure, that he held her closer.
“Yeah, they will.”
There was another lapse of silence. Her arm was folded across his own. Brian listened as her breathing slowed, becoming deeper and more even as she fell asleep.
Suddenly he kissed the back of her neck. He didn’t know why he did it. But the skin was just there, and it happened without him thinking. When he pulled back he blinked, wondering what he had done. Yet strangely enough, he couldn’t work up the energy to care. Alesia had not even moved.
Gradually he, too, succumbed to the land of dreams. And when their parents returned, going to his room to check on their son, they saw both of their children lying together in the bed, their hands entwined and their bodies rising and falling rhythmically. It was not right, but it looked and felt and was perfect.
The End
Meh...
lanie__rose.Title: Sleep
Rating: PG, PG-13
Summary:
He sighed. The sound echoed into the still night air, surrounding him for a brief moment before fading away into the darkness. That was alright with him. He liked the quiet. It was something his family had gotten used to during the past year.
Yet silence was not always a good thing. Especially when it held his sister in a relentless captivity, refusing to let her go, no matter how desperately psychiatrists and therapy sessions fought back. Especially when it was accompanied by the looks, the looks that were supposed to mean something, but that he couldn’t decipher because they didn’t come with a voice. Especially when his parents were away, and it was only him and Alesia in the house, and they might as well have been living in a tomb. Don’t disturb the dead.
The bedsprings creaked and groaned as he turned over, pulling his sheets up to his chin and then letting them slide back down. He didn’t have the energy to fight. No one had the energy to fight. And so they were losing—losing against everything. The silence, the mortgage, his father’s job. His own job.
All of this… God, why? had started with the headline. “Crash after the junior prom: One girl dead, the other barely alive.” Only not in nice, lowercase letters that let you catch your bearings. They were big, uppercase, black letters, still shining with the ink and blood. The article had continued on. “Last night, Ludlum High School’s junior prom ended in tragedy when young Alesia Watkins, 16, drove her vehicle off the road and into a ditch.” From there on, he had only seen phrases. Under the influence… passenger dead… driver in critical condition… inquiry expected…
Only phrases, and he had held the goddamn newspaper in his hands while he sat in the hospital waiting room. It was better that than the reassurances from the doctors. His parents frantically going over the worst that could happen. As time went on, it was better than the trial, seeing his sister’s face when she was sentenced to rehab—Jesus, he had known that she drank, but not that much—or even reading the other papers. He still had this one in the room somewhere.
Not just somewhere, actually. He could have found it in the dark if he wanted to. If he wanted to get up and trip over all the crap on his floor. With his father’s job in jeopardy, they hadn’t been hiring the cleaning people. It was definitely showing.
Once again, he sighed, wondering how his sister was handling all of this. She hadn’t spoken a word since the accident. At first they had thought her vocal chords had been damaged, or something equally drastic, but there was no word from the doctors. Just “post-traumatic stress disorder.” Well, he had been watching Alesia constantly for a year, and there were no signs of stress—either that, or she was just an extremely good actress. Too good an actress.
He remembered the days when they had been happier. It seemed like a strange dream, one of those that was like water: You tried to keep it cupped in your hands, but every second a little droplet slipped away. Alesia’s old smile was fading, the corners turning downwards; his parents’ love was a thing of the past, probably never to return. And as for himself… He had spent so much time worrying over Alesia that he was unable to understand thinking about anyone else. Girlfriends had dumped him because of it. He couldn’t really blame them.
So he lay there, memories wrapped around him just as tightly as the blanket, and almost didn’t hear the door creaking open.
The noise was soft at first, nearly imperceptible, but then there was the sound of light footsteps, moving slowly towards him. Brian turned, squinting in the darkness. His breath caught in his throat as the outline of his sister gradually appeared.
She looked as though she were trying to disappear in her oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, her shoulders hunched over and shivering in the cold house. Heating had been less of a priority, now that his father was getting fewer payments.
“Les?” he asked uncertainly, sitting up to look at her better. She was shaking visibly; as she sat down on the edge of his bed, he saw a pair of sunken eyes darting around the bedroom. “What’s wrong?”
Still trembling, she wrapped her arms around her knees and drew them close. He could hear her breath rattling in her chest, and wondered if she was getting sick.
“Is everything alright?” Damn, he hated these one-sided conversations. They always seemed to end in one of them storming off in a huff. Once, he had even hit her.
But not tonight. Her dark brown eyes widened, and she opened her mouth. Brian felt his heart stop as she whispered hoarsely, “Nightmare.”
A year. A whole year had passed since she had spoken, and her first word was nightmare.
“What was it about?”
“Rory.” She went to lean against the pillows beside him, and he shifted over to make some room. Rory. Rory who was currently six feet under an unforgiving gravestone.
He didn’t have a good reply. It was difficult for him to talk, now that she had started again. “What about her?” he had to ask.
Alesia shrugged, taking a fistful of the blanket and twisting it fiercely. “In the car,” she muttered. Her voice sounded strangled.
“Les, it’s over.” Shit, why did he have to say that? The conversation was as awkward as if they were strangers—which they almost were—but he couldn’t have come up with anything better?
“I know…” Alesia’s voice wavered. He glanced over at her, and saw her eyes shining… God, were those tears? “I killed her,” she said, and now her cheeks were shining as well. “I killed her.”
“Alesia.” Then he had put his arms around her and was holding her tightly as she sobbed, the noises echoing miserably in the empty house. Her tangled brown hair was pressed against his cheek, shuddering violently with each fresh wave of tears. He could feel every vibration of her body as she cried, and wondered how long it had been since she let her emotions take control, how long it had been since she started holding everything in.
For the next half hour he held her, and even when her sobs relented he did not let go. She was leaning against him comfortably—as most of his girlfriends had done, actually—and did not seem particularly inclined to get up, either.
“B-Brian?” Her voice echoed plaintively in his ears, and he tilted his head to hear her better.
“Yeah?”
“Can I stay here tonight?”
He paused. It was one thing to comfort his sister after a nightmare, but it was another thing entirely to sleep with her. They hadn’t done that since they were little children, and had to share a bed in a hotel room. Now he was eighteen, she seventeen, and they were in their own house, with her bedroom just down the hallway. His parents definitely wouldn’t think it appropriate.
“Please?”
To hell with them, he decided. “Sure.”
She fell back into silence again as he pulled down the covers, letting her crawl in beside her. It was a twin bed, so the fit normally would have been a little tight, but she had lost so much weight over the past year that an extra body hardly made a difference.
Her back settled in against his chest—was it wrong for him to notice that it was a perfect fit?—and he put an arm around her as she laid her head on the pillow. “Goodnight,” he heard her whisper.
“Goodnight,” he replied, reaching out to stroke her hair gently. She sighed, and he could almost see her closing her eyes.
“Mom and Dad’ll be happy, right?” Alesia sounded so tentative, so unsure, that he held her closer.
“Yeah, they will.”
There was another lapse of silence. Her arm was folded across his own. Brian listened as her breathing slowed, becoming deeper and more even as she fell asleep.
Suddenly he kissed the back of her neck. He didn’t know why he did it. But the skin was just there, and it happened without him thinking. When he pulled back he blinked, wondering what he had done. Yet strangely enough, he couldn’t work up the energy to care. Alesia had not even moved.
Gradually he, too, succumbed to the land of dreams. And when their parents returned, going to his room to check on their son, they saw both of their children lying together in the bed, their hands entwined and their bodies rising and falling rhythmically. It was not right, but it looked and felt and was perfect.
The End
Meh...
