Always There

Follow the main characters as they go on their own paths through life while struggling with their own inner battles.
Alisha Reynolds: A spunky keep-to-herself kind of gal. She likes having someone who at least acknowledges her existence. Moonlit walks and dark chocolate are romantic but too much can sufficate her.
Brandon: A proud bi-sexual, he constantly puts up face with the other kids. Meanwhile at home his family is falling apart. Still he attempts to prevail.


13. Alisha

I awoke to a blinding light and a sharp pain in my head. Everything was out of focus and for a second I forgot where I was. I opened my mouth to scream and then I heard his voice.


I remembered I was in a hospital and shut my mouth. It took me a bit then I remembered what I had showed up in.

"Geez, Brandon. I'm so sorry." I struggled to pull sheets up to cover me when my vision focosed. I was in a hospital gown. Of course. I looked over at his face and my heart melted then and there.

He looked aged beyond his years. The hair was just as matted as when I had last seen him. His eyes had huge bags underneath them, but still he flashed that boyish grin. What had put him through hell? Why was he here?

"Aliha?" A small voice called my name.

"Wha-?" I questioned at the unfamiliar tone.

"I'm sorry. Alisha, this is Sara." He held up someone with such a heartbreaking face, I just had to smile.

She could have been the world reincarnated. Her hair was just the right natural mix of browns that fell in the most gorgeous waves. Her eyes were as green as the tops of a rainforest. I felt the air rush out of my lungs. She was just amazing. I couldn't help but thinking he was lucky to have a sister like her.

"Sara?" I felt myself ask in awe. I reached my hands out to hold her when I noticed I couldn't efficiently move one. Right. The one that had split. I had completely forgot. Instantly I withdrew them from sight and sighed deeply.

He walked up to my bed and kissed me on my forhead. I know I shouldn't have read into it, but I did. I enjoyed the moment when I thought he had forgiven me. I didn't know for sure, but hope was fluttering in my chest like kittens chasing after a ball of yarn. The moment he pushed my hair back I couldn't help but feel lost in him. I leaned my head against his chest and just stayed there.

"Looks like the weekend has been busy for both of us." He whispered against my hair. I felt him move and sit, still he was just tall enough it didn't effect the way we were positioned.

"Yea," I sort of laughed but didn't, "I guess it has."

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked looking into me. His brown eyes locked onto mine and the room froze. I almost did tell him. Uncertainty flooded through me with such urgency I stayed shut. It clogged my throat and sufficated my throat. He wouldn't believe me anyways. Me? An innocent teenager with a teacher who had the best reputation in the school. It was a he-said versus a she-said. The he-said would be more likely to be believed. What did I know about rape or sex? Nothing, and he would use that against me.

"What's there to talk about?" I said in dismay and shame.

"Well how about how clumsy you are?" He tried to make me smile by doing his woman impersonation. Curse him, he knew what made me laugh. So I did. The feeling felt good but strange. An odd sensation after so much sorrow. I settled for a smile that failed at masking my depression.

"I fell?" I gave my best shot at a lying smile. You know, the kinds you make when your shrugging your shoulders though you know you've been busted.

"On what some construction site built poorly by guys with no vision for what true art is?" He replied.

"Art!" Sara smiled and clapped.

"Yes, art." He grinned picking her up.

"She's beautiful." I murmered.

"She looks like her mom." He replied pushing the girl's curl out of her eyes.

"Speaking of which where were your parents? When I went to see you they weren't there." I mentioned with instant curiosity.

He stared at her for what felt like hours. The sparks of a close siblinghood flew wildly between them. I couldn't help but wish I had a connection similar to that with my father. At least I'd feel like I'd have some family support. It was just amazing what they had. I sighed in admiration as I watched her play with his shaggy bangs. I kept thinking that that was how a family should act.

I guess he saw me smiling with depressed eyes or something but he came over and sat down next to me. For a moment Sara was the only true character in the room. She continued to bat at his hair and tug on his ears while he just sat there looking at me. I stared back. We didn't have to talk. Didn't have to do anything. It was just there within the air.

Finally I opened my mouth but what came out was nothing short of a, "Blerrgh".

Immediately I covered my gaping hole and widened my eyes. Covering my face to hide my horrible blush I spoke with more sense, "Excuse me."

For a moment we just sat there. My face was hidden so I was unable to see how he looked at me. I could feel his browns piercing my embarassment, inviting me to join the rest of the crowd. I slowly lift my face, meet his eyes, and then duck in shame. More minutes pass and he starts to hum and move away.

I am secretly smiling by this point. Embarrassment turned into a game of hide and seek. A few more moments pass and I peek over the tip of my cover. Instantly my mood downed.

Sara was asleep on his shoulder. Her faced peacful, serine, and still. The ocasional srand of hair cascded down over her face as she breathed. Ever so gently he tucked these strands behind her ear. The perfect bonding scene. This wasn't what depressed me. Outwards everything seemed normal, a sister and a brother.  No, this was something you'd spot if you looked closely.

It lay in his eyes. He stared at her in sadness. The pain held there was just unimaginable. You didn't have to be in the same room. Just look at him through a window across the street and you'd be able to see this. If he were capable of crying at the time, I had no doubt he would.

"Bryan?" I question.

He looked up at me and suddenly I was staring at the face of an eighty year old man. He sighed deeply and turned back towards her before shining the worst "genuine smile" ever at me. Shrugging his shoulders he opened his mouth to speak-

And of course this was when the doctor came in.

"I see you're awake Miss. Reynolds." Her face was shoved into her clipboard examining papers that probably had everything there is to know about me on there.

In response I just nod. I honestly did not want to be here. I hateed doctors. Despised them. Regretted their presence with an annoying, burning, flaming, passionate, heated desire. I wished there was no need for such stuck up personel like nurses. Unfortunately, they do exist and so I must put my frustration aside to make sure this woman got paid for doing nothing but looking at paper. She wasn't a surgeon. Wasn't the person who fixed my hand. That guy came in earlier (and man was he cute! Blonde hair, blue eyes, white smile, funny personality! Mmm! Yummy wrapped in a edible package!) and I personally thanked him for his efforts. But no, she was the second person down the line, she didn't help me at all. Nope just gave me medicine for the pain.

"How's the wrist?" She asked, of course still scribbling more crap on paper.

"Do you really care?" I respond.

Her eyes finally released their glare at the paper and looked at me with fake concern. She put her hand over her heart (like people do when they pretend to be emotionally hurt) and spoke with what sounded like genuine disbelief, "Of course I do. Why would you even say that? It's my -"

I put my good hand up to stop her from going further and just looked at her. She had to be kidding me. I wasn't an eight year old. I knew Santa and the Easter Bunny didn't exist. I felt like shouting, "Fuck you!" to her but I didn't.

"Save the crap Mrs. -" I squinted at her name tag and decided to purposefully screw up her last name (seriously hate doctors here), "Golddigger?"
Brandon chocked on something and I fought back a laugh. I knew I was rude but I've mentioned it enough times. I couldn't care less what she thought. I absolutely despised her existence. Well maybe not her life but her job. Kapish kapash.

Her hand dropped and her eyes narrowed. The expression on her face clearly read that she hated me with the same burning annoyance. Good so at least we understood one another.

"Listen here, Miss. Prick." She spat every word, "I don't care where you come from, who you lost your virginity to," she paused to take in my expression and then continued, "Yea I know about you and him. What you think I wouln't find out about something like that?"

I dropped my jaw and almost cried then and there. How did she know? I was nearsighted so of course I couldn't really make sense of her last name but I tried one last time. Mrs. G.o.l.b? Or maybe it was a D. Mrs. GoldF.I.S.H? Oh. My. God. I looked her in the eyes. If I could ever admit fear, now would have been the time. She was his wife!

She smiled and waved her hand with dismissive anger, "Like I said, don't care. But here in my world. You WILL respect me. Got it?" She didn't have to yell. The message was clear.

I swallowed nervously and nodded.

"Here's your perscription; you're free to go." She said back in her happy voice and then she leaned closer to my ear, "If you know what's best for you stay away. Or else. Have a nice day." She placed the slip of paper on the desk and walked out of the room.

I'm still in shock by the time Brandon comes over to look at the perscription.

"Eh it's just instructions on how to take care of your casted wrist and some pain medication. No biggey." He shrugged his free shoulder and looked at me. The breath flew out of me in little poofs as I stared at the wall in disbelief.


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