Decaying Hearts

Chapter 9

10 Years ago

    Annie came running through the front door of our family home. My mother was mindlessly humming along to the radio, preparing the dinner whilst my father was hard at work. She hadn't noticed my little sister climbing the stairs with tears streaming down rosy cheeks. Annie's black pigtails bounced erratically with every step.
    It was so unlike her. She was usually so happy at the end of a school day. She always came home excited and playful, with stories about her friends or reciting all the things she had learnt that day. She would always be more than ready to tell me about her day. It was as though the classroom gave her a high that no other child could understand.
    I couldn't understand her love for school and I certainly didn't share it. I hated school. How could anybody enjoy spending the best part of the day trapped in a room full of books and sums they would never use outside of school? Especially, when that time could be spent playing outside with friends.
    Nevertheless, Annie loved it. So seeing her run in to our home, heartbroken, instantly ignited the over-protective brother in me. Annie and I did have our fights of course, but she was my baby sister and I was not prepared to let anybody make her cry.
     I followed her up the stairs as I heard the door to the bedroom we shared slam shut. The family photos hung along the wall leading up the stairs shuddered
     First, I knocked softly against the dark wooden door – with no reply. She was clearly desperate to be alone, though I knew she needed me to tell her everything was okay, that she didn't have to face this alone; whatever this was.
     I tried to creep slowly in to our room so she couldn't protect, but the traitorous old door shrieked and screamed. Annie said nothing. She sat sadly with hunched shoulders on her pink covered bed with her back to the door. I could see her body shudder with silent sobs.
     Sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, I put a bony arm around her. My arm was only there a second before she shrugged me away, quickly grabbing the scarlet stained tissues that laid across the bed in front of me.
   "What happened?" I begged her for an answer; I wanted nothing more than to know the reason for my nine year old sister's tears. The answer didn't come easily.
    In one swift motion I moved myself to sit in front of her and grabbed her chin, giving her no other choice but to look me in the eyes and I felt the trickle of blood slide over my fingers and the cause of her distress.
    Annie's lip had been busted open and tainted with signs of blood. But the bleeding had ceased from her plump lips that were now even larger with the swelling, but it was the rest of her face that caused the greatest concern. The whole left side of her face was a giant graze with blood still oozing. Blood and tears collided and rolled softly down chubby cheeks that always framed a smile, but was now home to pain and sorrow.
   "Annie, what happened?"
   By then, she was past trying to mask her pain. She broke down in loud, painful sobs and threw her arms around my neck. Annie buried her face into me as though if she tried hard enough she would disappear from this unforgiving world. I could feel her heart beat racing against me as it broke within her. I felt a tear of my own escape.
   After what seemed like hours of holding my sister, with futile attempts to soothe her with words of comfort, "everything will be okay," and "everybody feels like this sometimes," I rose from the bed and headed quickly for the door.
   "Please stay, Josh!" She exclaimed through trembling breath.
   "I'll be right back." I promised. 
   A promise I kept. In seconds I returned, bringing back the first aid kit from the bathroom, a bowl of warm water and a chocolate muffin from the kitchen. They were Annie's favourite. A small pitiful smile broke on to her face at my return, yet seemed to drop once again at the sight of the muffin I placed on the night stand.
   With the warm water and a tissue from a box we kept in the bedroom, I began to clean the open wound on Annie's cheek. At the age of thirteen, I didn't have much of an idea of what I was doing; I just knew from my mother's medical documentary obsession that it was important to clean any wound to prevent infection. So, I did my best to wipe away all the traces of dried blood and dirt that had settled near the wound's opening.
   Once I felt the grace had been clean to a good enough standard, as much to my untrained ability anyway I began to gently apply a layer of antiseptic cream from the first aid box – a thicker layer than needed. I could see the stinging sensation take place as her face took hold of a tight grimace with a stray tear falling. I wiped it away kindly with the tip of my thumb.
   "Are you going to tell me what happened yet?"
  "I fell." She shrugged.
  "C'mon, the classic 'I fell' excuse? You can do better than that. If you're gonna lie at least make it creative." I jest, hoping to cheer her up even slightly.
   She heaved a heavy sigh and refused to look at me, but the truth began to roll from the tip of her tongue, spilling from her mouth seemingly without her permission. The tears began once again.
   "I was just walking home from school when this older boy and his friends started following me He was shouting horrible names at me, making fun of me. He kept calling me 'pork pie' and telling me just how fat I am. The other boys just laughed.
   "I ignored them and just kept walking, but he carried on. The more I ignored him, the worse he got. He started chanting 'pork pie' until his friends joined in.
   "I started running home and they just laughed at me. He yelled 'run, Pork Pie, run.' And 'look at the fatty wriggle.' He started chasing me and it didn't take long for him to catch me. When he did he grabbed me and forced me to turn around. He told me I had to look at him, but I didn't want to. I was crying and I didn't want them all to see. I knew he would make even more fun at me. He kept yelling things at me.
   "One of his friends said it had gone too far, but he still didn't stop. His friend tried to pull him off of me, it gave me a chance to run away but I couldn't. He carried on chasing me and when he caught up he pushed me and I fell. I scraped my face on the road. He saw it and laughed. He told me that it doesn't matter anyway, 'cause I'll never be pretty.
    His friend came to see if I was okay and kept telling me he was so sorry, that the guy made him do it or he'd beat him up. I don't care. He was a coward."
   Annie's voice continued to break throughout the tale. She was shaking. It was impossible for her to keep her hands still and as she watched them tremble I could see the frustration building in her grey-blue eyes.
   "Why am I so fat? He would never have picked on me if I was pretty." Annie yelled.
    I grabbed her shoulders firmly and forced her to look at me and listen.
   "He was a bully, Annie! Nothing more, nothing less. His opinion means nothing." I stated with a forcefulness that left no room to argue. "Who was it?" I added.
   She shrugged shyly, cautiously. She was afraid that I she told me it would all come back on her even worse. That boy needed to learn a lesson, to know what it's like to feel vulnerable. Maybe, if he knew what it was like to be the victim he wouldn't' have become the bully. He would learn.
   "Yes you do. Tell me."
  "I'm not sure. He was older than me. I think he's in your class. Adam?" Annie sniffled. "What are you going to do?"
   "Don't worry, Annie. I'm just going to talk to him." I smiled softly, stroking her hair.
   But that was the last time Adam Henderson ever said a word to my little sister.

   The next day came and ended with me in A&E with broken knuckles and a temporary suspension. Adam went home with a broken nose, a violent looking black eye and the permanent fear of daring to treat anybody the same way he treated my Annie. He would think twice the next time he decide to be brave enough to pick on young girls.
   My mother yelled at me all the same, for god knows how long. She was giving me the typical parental preach that 'violence was never the answer.' Little did she know that one day violence would become the only answer.
   Dad nodded along to her lecture in the background, giving me the stern eyes, but once she had decided she had had enough of my delinquent behaviour and left the room, he patted me proudly on the back. He looked down on me with support and admiration, a look I'd never forget.
   "That's my boy. You make sure you always look after your sister. If anybody ever hurts her, you make sure that the sorry little bastard regrets the very moment he took his first breath. My dad began to ramble angrily, furious at the fact that somebody could hurt his precious little girl.
    Adam Henderson never bothered Annie again, but the damage had already been done and buried itself deep into her heart where she carried that pain for the rest of her life. As she got older, Annie became obsessed with the way she looked. She would exercise excessively and eat very little; she would skip meals most days, desperate not to put on a single pound. The odd nights when my mother decided to make her eat, I would hear Annie crying and retching in the bathroom. By the time she was fourteen she was diagnosed with anorexia.
   Obviously the kids in her year noticed the weight fall off of her and just how isolated she had become. With kids being typically cruel, many decide to exploit this by calling her names and hissing snide comments as she walked by. Girls would often comment on how unhealthy she looked, on how her thin legs would snap or how one gust of wind would blow her away.
   But Annie couldn't see how thin she was. She was too distracted and focused on becoming society's ideals of perfect, she hadn't noticed how far down the path of self-destruction she had fallen.
   I had noticed the deep cuts. She would often wear long-sleeves to cover her arms, but sometimes you could catch a glimpse of crimson from fresh slashes of a knife. It broke my heart seeing my baby sister spiral down the unmerciful path of obliteration. All of this caused by one low-life bully that manage to suck all the strength out of her and essential traumatise her. It was crazy to think how one event could cause the chain reaction of a thousand others.
   My mother once found her unconscious on our bathroom floor, surrounded by pill packets. I heard her scream from the bedroom, calling hysterically for dad for help. I ran to the scene myself and was scarred by the vision of my little sister on the brink of life. She had become so pale and fragile. It was the most at ease I had seen her in years, she looked peaceful, but the truth was dark and terrifying.
    Annie was okay after a few days in hospital, but our parents had decided enough was enough and that it was time to take control of the situation. She was sent to a rehabilitation centre, a place where she would be able to overcome her demons and self-loathing.
   And she did. Six months later she came home a new person, just not in the way we had imagined. She had gained the weight she needed and seemed completely satisfied with it, seemingly to enjoy her new body; she would wear short sleeved tops or even skirts and dresses which she never dared to wear before. She had finally began to see that lie was worth living again.
   She would occasionally show signs of her nine year old self again, so happy and full of life, but I could see a new fear that I couldn't quite pin point – until the day she brought Oscar home.
    Oscar had also been in the rehabilitation centre as a recovering addict and alcoholic. None of us were particularly keen on him, but Annie fought his case and argued that he was a changed man that made her feel alive again. So we tried to accept him the best we could, even, even as the bruises rose violently across her pale skin. 
    I begged her to leave him, knowing she deserved so much more. Annie deserved somebody to treat her like a princess, not a punching bag. Of course she refused and Oscar began to notice my dislike of him, which he took out on Annie. So I made an effort to treat the sleazy bastard like my friend.
   But it wasn't long before Oscar decided that the two needed a fresh start in order to put their dark pasts behind them. In reality he just wanted Annie to be isolated and alone, so he could enforce his ultimate control over her with nobody to turn to.
   I only saw Annie a few times after the move. It was the worst mistake she could have made but despite the help we begged her to take, she refused and went with the man she apparently loved. I miss her every day. I only wish I could have saved her from the bitter cruelties of reality before it had become too late.