Chapter Text
In this state, how was anybody in this family going to deal with anything?
It had been three days since the the party. The nurse stood beside his bed and watched his heart beat on the screen. Elizabeth sat beside her, asking her all sorts of questions and quizzing her on her medical knowledge. The nurse answered everything truthfully and correctly, as well as whispering that, "There's a small chance he'll make it."
Elizabeth had been sitting there ever since the first second. She was far too young to understand the outcome, but old enough to understand the problem. She was sitting in that blue plastic chair too short for the massive hospital bed with her hands folded and eyes locked on her brother. The nurse looked from the screen to her, the sad, red-headed girl, and tried to relate her own issues to the Elizabeth's. She didn't like this however, and snapped at her. The nurse wandered off into the hallway after, leaving her hopeless and alone with her brother.
His eyes, glued shut and barely visible under his curly hair and massive cast wrapped around his entire head. He looked so fragile and small, weak and terrified, although being unaware and trapped somewhere else. In his own mind, he had to be dreaming about something. Good or bad, it was probably better than the state of the real world.
A little later, her father joined her with her brother lagging behind him. He didn't dare to look at his brother's mangled body. Elizabeth sat up straighter and stared at the pair while they walked in. "What are you doing here, Michael?" She asked bitterly.
He didn't reply. What was there to say? His father spoke for him, "He's here to see his brother. As soon as he wakes up, Michael is going to apologize."
"If he ever wakes up." Elizabeth ducked her head down and spoke in a soft whisper, barely loud enough for anybody to hear. But her father heard.
"Elizabeth, he is going to wake up. Soon. You cannot be saying terrible things like that, especially right to your brother's face."
"I'm sorry, daddy, but he's not even awake! How is he supposed to hear us when he's surely going to die?!" She shouted. She watched Michael tense, still not looking up from the floor. And she watched her father turn red with anger, but avoid the screaming match in the hospital.
"Fine. Believe what you want. Talk to your brother, he won't utter a word." He swiftly left the room. This left the usually-cheerful girl and Michael, scared of himself and the world around him.
Elizabeth stared at him. He stared at the ground. There was nothing to say and there was nothing to do. They could only wait; wait for their brother to either wake up or die.
"Well? Are you going to say something?" She said. She tried to sound tough, like him, but failed. Her voice cracked from the tears poking at her vision. The sadness was too much to handle, the loss was overwhelming. "Please. Mikey. Just say anything."
Still, he didn't budge. He only tensed and turned his head away. Now, he refused to look at his sister, too. He couldn't look at them.
"Michael, I..." Her voice trailed away, realizing there was nothing there for her. Michael wasn't going to speak, and she wasn't going to force him. "Can you please just say your sorry? M-Maybe... that'll make him wake up."
That was all she wanted to hear. She wanted her brother to speak, to say he was sorry, so then she could forgive him. But if he didn't? What would she make of her brother? Would he only be a murderer to her?
"Michael! Please! I just want to forgive you because you're my brother, but... but..." But, what? He'd been picking on her brother for as long as he could remember, but it was always playful and never serious. But this? Michael had taken it too far and he knew it. Was that why he wouldn't speak? Was he really that guilty or just looking for the attention? Did he even feel bad? Would he ever speak again? "You've always been like this and I'd always said something. But this time, I wasn't there, and you just went overboard and did something you regretted. If you said sorry, then everything would be better, right?"
Silence. The monitor beeped quietly in the still quiet of the blinding room. Elizabeth watched him. She watched his face pale, then she watched him tuck his hand into his lap, and then watched him cry.
She had never seen him cry before. She had never seen a lot of people cry before. But Michael was one of the only people she believed 'couldn't cry'. He'd never shed a tear when skinning his knee, or getting hit, or falling off a bike, or getting yelled at. She knew he had to have felt sadness, but not enough to cry. This was something new for her; she felt exhausted and overwhelmed. She was scared now. She began to tremble and scooted the small plastic chair backwards closer to the wall.
"Mikey? Are you... crying?" She asked carefully. His shoulders shook and his hands ran through his hair. "I didn't mean to--"
"No-- I'm..." He hugged his knees closer to his chest. Those were the only words he'd mutter; short and real, barely enough to make a sentence. Elizabeth's heart sank inside of her ribcage, her lungs fluttering and leaving her breathless. Her heart ached for her brothers, even if one of them had hurt the other. She was scared of him, but he was still her brother.
She stood up and walked out the other way, too angry and scared to do anything else.
But now, in this state of fear, things could only get worse.