My Sister's Big Fat Wedding

Panic attacks greenday and storytelling

Chapter 10

Harry

An amateur is supposed to be bad at something, but Alia, well, she downed the drink quicker than I had expected to. I hadn't even taken a sip yet and she had managed to guzzle the entire glass in less than 15 seconds. The glass in my hand stopped right in front of my lips as I froze and looked at Alia just to make sure that she was okay.

"This...is this...this isn't...I don't like alcohol." She slurs along the words as she tries to form sentences from the broken words.

"Alia, you need to let go, at least for a while." I say, finally sipping the bitter liquid a little.
"Who are you to tell me what I need to do Harry?" She screams, tears threatening to flow down. This was the last thing I wanted to do, make her cry.
"I am not supposed to have alcohol." She says, getting up to get another glass of apples juice. She almost crashes into the coffee table, but gladly some part of her already high brain still works and she maneuvers herself around it.

"Um...that is alcohol." I say, pointing at the two cartons.

"Don't boss me mister, I know how much I need to drink." She replies.

"Um...okay, I guess." I say awkwardly as I return back to sipping the liquid while looking at the TV.

"You know what I don't like about this world Harry?" Alia asks in an intoxicated voice, she isn't going to remember anything, I hope.

"What?" I ask, permitting her to continue and tell me the reason.

"I don't like the fact that you can't ever be perfect, even Beyonce, as much as I love her, has imperfections, and when she is feeling the worst, people seem to pick on that particular wound again and again. I am not saying that I wouldn't do it, I am just sorry because I know what it feels like." She says, her legs are on her head rest as she lies on her bed, looking up at the wallpapered ceiling of her room.

"What does it feel like?" I ask, I didn't know what it was like to be let down, because I had actually done everything in my power to meet everyone's demand form a very young age, and now I think it had become a habit.

"It feels like...feels like...shit." She says heavily, her eyes seem distant though her voice is right next to me.

I mute the TV and focus my attention on her.

"What do you mean?" I ask sincerely.

"I mean, it feels like shit, being treated like a robot, I feel exhausted sometimes." She says hesitantly, at first I think she was going to stop right there, but she continues and this time I actually don't even know what to do.

"I just...give up..." The only two phrases I hear are enough to scare me, I see her crumple into herself, and I see her shoulders rising and falling rapidly as she cried.

She seemed to be shaking with each sob she was letting out and I was honestly very timorous.

I think about putting my hand against her head and comfort her, but somehow that idea seemed so much better in my imaginative mind.

"Alia, please don't cry." I say, in a small voice, hoping she would realize that I was still sitting there feeling extremely awkward.

"What do you mean don't cry?" She asks, well it wasn't much of asking she mostly screamed.

"I just..." I start but she instantly cuts me off. She stands up on the bed and points a disapproving finger at me.

"You just what, you don't understand how it is to live with obnoxious parents and I doubt you are even trying, I want to cry, because, because..." Her breaths had become fast and she seemed to be trying very hard not to faint.