Familiarity

Chapter Three

Life went on. Quickly.

The world turned furiously, spinning around until you were sick and stuck in a singular place. Days passed like blurs of time without grief or worry.

In the strangest way, you forgot about your sister. You forgot about her magenta eyes that lacked the liveliness she always possessed. You forgot about the pain it brought, and the aching in your stomach whenever emotions wanted to bubble over.

You even forgot about yourself.  You forgot the fact you even existed—that you were a person and not a shell of a body without a working subconscious. You forgot that your eyes were [eye color], and that you were fifteen. You forgot about your long list of flaws and completely ignored your qualities.

Simply, you no longer existed. That's how it seemed, at least. You ran on autopilot, following where the wind took you.

But is a plane being controlled by a pilot not a plane? Was the world still your sister's if it continued to spin without her?

The plane is still a plane, and the world was never hers. The world is no one's. It won't stop for anyone. It will never stop for any meager person on the planet. Not for the loved nor the hated. Your sister was just as insignificant as everyone else. Just as unimportant as you.

That's why you forgot. Rather, that's why you tried to forget, to ignore the fact she was gone at all. It wasn't like her life mattered that much in hindsight, and anyway, the irrational pain you felt wasn't as bad then.

Everytime you brushed off your mourning, slipping it past the cracks in the floor, you became aware of how much it would hurt when it would catch up to you. You would be in the same pain your family felt though it would be heavier on you, more potent than the lilac perfume your grandmother gifted your mom. Your stage of grief would be more premature than everyone else's. When they would be finally okay, you would still be suffering through the thought of living without her pitchy giggles and bright eyes.

You would be stuck in time as the world moved without you. Because you and your sister weren't significant enough for the Earth to give you a single breath.

Life had you suffocated under the veil of immaturity and fear, pinning you against the ground and leaving you feeling more disconnected from the world than you felt at the restaurant. But as days passed, and autumn fell on and off your shoulders, kissing your cheeks with the early beginnings of winter, the world became sharp.

Your eyes were no longer unfocused on the objects in front of you. They were stark and you were observant, suddenly engrossed in life as it was.

It happened one night when temperatures really began to drop. Leaves were brown and dead, a reminder that time did not stop. Your phone was buzzing on the small table beside your bed, waking you from the feeble rest you placed yourself within; sleep didn't come easy to you, it seemed it never had.

Still, the lingering warmth of slumber tugging at your arms when you tried to reach the vibrating device. Your bones felt like rods of lead, the feelings of pain and sleep reverberating in your ribs and back when you sat up.

When you pushed the eager device against your ear, you heard breathy whispers. They were melted and destroyed—sobs that made a young voice quiver.

"[Name]," the voice, a recognizable little boy, said. Sleep turned to an alertness in your bones upon hearing your name, and suddenly you could hear everything through the small speaker. "Come home. Please."

"What?" you whispered, as if you couldn't understand what was being said. It was silent for a moment, only the sound of sniffles carrying from the device to your ears. "What? [Brother's Name]?"