Angels Don't Have Wings, Darling

Inspired by CW's Supernatural | Her brother is dying. And she has every reason to blame herself for the accident, which made her desperate. It made her believe in such things as karma, the devil and God himself, while not being nowhere near religious before. When the doctors tells her, he probably only have about a month left, she starts praying. Perhaps more due to symbolic meanings, but who would've thought that an actual angel would show up on her front door?

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2. Being Sober

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
  “Your brother has been through a severe brain damage, so we’re are not sure wether he will improve or not. But we will pray miss.”
  “He’s in a coma you said,” I stated coldly trying to forget the fact that it were indeed the millionth time, they’ve told me that God had a role to play. And the last thing I wanted to hear, was some goddamn holy spirit, who even religious people couldn’t rely on. I mean really? Where was he, when people got each other killed?
  “Yes, why?” She looked somehow annoyingly professionally while asking. Yes, it was her profession, but my godforsaken brother is unable to freaking breathe properly.
  “Any chances of survival?” I asked looking at her with dead eyes, my voice breaking.
  “Of course. There’s always hope.” I smiled slightly at that sentence. Pathetic. As if hope would change the outcome.
  I didn’t stay with the doctors long. After sitting next to Lucas’s bed for about two hours, they begged me to leave and at first I refused. I couldn’t bare standing the thought of him laying on a bed that could become his deathbed, and I got completely pissed, when I overheard their conversation that accidents do indeed happen. Which made me throw one of the chairs in the hallway, so they had to literally throw me out. Accidents. Like my brother should die on a damn accident.
  He would survive an accident. Even though his body almost got thrown out of the car, as if his seat was a catapult, he would make it. There was no way that he was about to take his last breath in a matter of days.
  They didn’t tell me much about the crash. They just told me that I’ve been in a state of chock when it happened, which meant I didn’t remember the event.
  But it kept playing in my head, so I must have remembered something.
  The speed didn’t in that moment seem anywhere dangerous, but the oncoming car’s sure did. Coming from Lucas’s side it hit us with so much force that his body was twisted in ways I didn’t thought was possible. And thank God for leaving me with no scratch, so I could threaten the guy to death, after my brother received help and I’ve got prober control over my muscles. He looked freaked out, and for a moment I could’ve sworn that he truly believed me.
  “This is getting ridiculous.” I hissed as I overheard another doctor mentioning a crying teen to have ‘faith.’
  I got to admit that at some point I was overreacting. They meant well. But it just pissed me off that they would throw lies at our faces, just because they thought that God really was out there.
It was first when I came home, when I broke together. Tears drowning my eyes, so I wasn’t able to see for a moment and my lungs had forgot the ability to breathe, although you’d think that they were professional.
  I felt like that for what seemed like hours, and when my breath finally sounded normally, I just sat down on the couch for a while.
  “I need a drink.” I told myself, but then remembered that my house didn’t have anything that just sounded like alcohol. I’ve had too many problems with that stuff, which meant that I quitted drinking and I’ve never touched it in 2 whole years.
  But I really needed that drink now. I’ve got a good excuse this time, I told myself, as I let all the last trait of common sense disappear and took my car-keys, despite only being here for fifteen minutes.
  I decided to leave my phone at home, instead of having the pleasure of declining several calls from friends, who’ve been informed. At this point I didn’t care. The last thing I needed was attention, and instead I just needed that goddamn drink. Drink ‘till I would drown in the liquid just to be thrown into the hospital with him. But opposite him, I would get out of there, while he would have to stay.

  The first thing that happened in the liquor-store, was the owner interrupting my thoughts.
“Ellie, I haven’t seen you… How long is it?” God, he still remembers me. Must’ve been here on a regular day basis.

  “Two years to be exact.” I stated, as I grabbed the vodka and some beers and put it on the counter. He eyed me and shrugged slightly.
  “Must’ve been some rough week, huh? I thought you promised to never go near alcohol again.”
  “Things changed.” My brother’s hospitalized dammit.
  “Bet they have,” he said squeezing his eyes suspiciously.
  I didn’t answer on that comment, but instead handed him the money, took my stuff and was about to turn around when he suddenly looked at me with a pitying look.
  “Rick, I’m fine-” I tried, but he interrupted.
  “No, you aren’t. You are 23, were such a big of an alcoholic that you learned the name of the liquor storeowner, and after being sober for 2 whole years, you show up and wanna drink yourself to death. Ellie, if you ever wanna feel like talking-“
  "I’m. fine.” I repeated through my teeth, walking out of the store finally.
  I bit the inside of my cheek, since I was nowhere near fine and I just realized that the term fine got more and more misused into the complete opposite.
  I’ve been lying my ass off to Rick, and I already got a proof before getting in the car once again, because I’ve already taken several sips.
  I raised the beer in front of my eyes and said sarcastically: “A toast to God.”

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