Say My Name [ Teacher-Student Romance -- Robert Downey Jr ]

Ch.79 - That Should Be Her

And Charlotte absolutely hates the fact that these people, people she cannot match their beady black eyes, think sorrowfully of her desolate situation. Sympathizing to the truth they think they know.

Albeit the nurses and doctors alike see her in a different light. Those physicians who pumped insulin into Molls system when her digits took a dive, who fed her through a needled thin vein pierced through the skin of her wrist. Those doctors who know the math and science of this scene set out so tragically before them. That look at Charlotte with a different kind of pity than the friends, family and acquaintances around her do.

Like she was a part of the equation of a six year olds death. A half of the problem, half of the responsibility for death as the medical staff are too. That between the small group of them, they let a child slip through their fingers.

Some more figuratively than literally.

And their remains that meandering mourning sickness that lives between the lines of self-realization of her fuzzy reality and forever isolation and separation from the sister she lost to reckless waves and weak arms. Whilst also hating every moment the world keeps spinning without her Molly Monster.

She's already gotten sick once today, out on the lily flowers by the entrance to this large looming church. Coughing as she puked, overly aware of the pitying eyes trained on her back from people she barely knows--who loosely knew the six year old and come out of respect. And for her to now climb those sleek steps up to peer into that small open casket where a gaunt six year old lays, would only double that number.

Though maybe her knees would buckle under the weight of her overbearing guilt half way between where she sits on this first row of shellacked benches and she'd choke on her own vomit right in front of everyone. Join Molly up in fluffy clouds and leave her torn and tired body behind for hell to incinerate.

God, she misses Molly so much. Misses everything about her. Head to toe, first moment to last. She wishes she could go back, start everything over and savour every moment lived with Molly. To really appreciate her sibling for all her eccentricities and quirks. To humbly and not so humbly brag about the incredible artwork that that mind came up with. To try and understand and see the world the way Moll sees it--and there she goes again. Speaking in present tense instead of past. How easy yet difficult it is to flick that mental switch.

She shouldn't have to, though. It shouldn't be Molly in that casket. If anyone, it should be Charlotte. Or no one. Maybe instead, in some alternate universe right this second, sits comfortably cuddled up, two other Joseph sisters. Enjoying the spring breeze and salty ocean air as they take turns tossing rocks into skim smooth sea waters. Heated by a dipping sun and oncoming starry skies. Laughing, flicking water at each other and abandoning shoes at the shoreline as they soak their feet and waddle around admiring tiny swimming fish nibbling at the algae between the rocks under their traveling footprints.

Oh god, Molly.

No, no, no, no.

She's, her breathing--it's, it's hurriedly increasing. Like a weighted ball running it's course down a bumpy beaten path, jumping and crushing life as it lands in an airless thump.

Clenching her eyes shut tight. Tight, tight, tight. Forgetting all she knows is so wrong right now. Wrong, wrong, wrong. So sad, depressing, and infuriating. Rocking back and fourth ever so slightly with perspiration on her brow and clenched teeth that chatter anyways as she wills the panic to pass. The need to take flight--to make a scene--like this is all about Charlotte or something. Grappling for the thinning threads of sanity that slip and cut away.

She's, she's trying to hold herself together more than she has been these past few days. She's trying, and, and it's hard. It hurts. She hurts, everything hurts.