P&P

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I stood in front of the full length mirror that took up a corner of my room, and stared straight into my own face. My eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and my face was pale from lack of sleep. My hair hung limply around my face as I cocked my head to the side, in thought. I wasn't quite sure what I was looking for in the mirror – in my own reflection – but I couldn't just walk away. Not without answers.

Who was I at this time last year? I was a seventeen year old girl, with the world seemingly in front of her. I was due to be salutatorian, though I still had no clue what I wanted to do with my life. I may have been a bit bitter – though I called myself "realistic" – about the things that happen in this life, but it was nowhere near to what I thought of it now.

I'll admit, my baby sister could be much worse than she was. Instead of lying soundly in a hospital room in Jefferson, Louisiana, she could be in a body bag if George's car had flipped. Or the crash could have never happened and she could be crying herself to sleep in a bed that wasn't hers, wondering why she deserved to be beaten by George.

There are a lot of things that could have gone worse. But there are also things that could've gone better.

Who was I now?

I couldn't help but think that I was who Darcy was last year.

"Why are you up so early?" Jane asked as she dragged her feet into the kitchen, where I was making coffee. It was exactly a week after finding out Lydia had gotten into a crash with George. My father was still in Jefferson with Lydia. She was released from the hospital, but I guess she wasn't quite ready to come home and face all of us yet.

"I didn't sleep." I told her as I handed her a mug. The clock read 6:18 AM, and the sun wasn't even up yet. "My mind decided to keep me up all night. If it won't settle down, then might as well embrace it, right?"

"I'm all too aware of how your mind works, Lizzie." She took the mug out of my hand before I could take a sip and steered me back up the stairs, and I let her. I was too exhausted to try to stop her. "If you're still up in fifteen minutes, I'll make you some tea to calm your nerves."

"Will you wake me up if dad calls?" I asked her as I pulled a blanket on top of me once I was in my own bed.

"Yes, I promise."

I slept for a good five hours, which did help a bit. When in distress, the two best things you will experience are either a good, long laugh or a good, long sleep.

"Did dad call?" I asked Jane as soon as I saw her in the living room. I was still coming down the stairs, but I saw dad as soon as I reached the bottom step. "Oh my god. Is she alright?"

"She's fine. She's sleeping upstairs." He told me. He put a finger to his lip, signaling us to be quiet so we wouldn't wake her. "I'm sure you girls have a lot of questions."

"Did they find George yet?" Jane asked.

"They're still looking for him." My father told her. "He presumably left town after he was released from the hospital." My hands began to curl into fists. Did he even feel guilty?

"How is she?" I asked him, desperately wanting to know. "Has she told you about...anything?"

"No, she hasn't." My father shook his head solemnly. "I don't even know where to begin with this. I tried to ask her about what George did, but she just shakes her head and says he didn't hurt her."

"You should tell her, Lizzie." Jane told me. I looked up at her, totally distraught. "You should tell her you knew about George. Maybe she'll be able to come to terms with it if you do."

"Or she blames me for this happening to her." I said bitterly. "I wouldn't blame her."

"Maybe it will do her some good to know." My father told me. I was surprised that this was his answer. "She won't talk to anyone about what happened. When she's awake, she's not fully...alert. It's as if she's sleepwalking."

Sleepwalking.

"Like Georgiana." I mumbled to myself. I remembered her story, and suddenly knew that I could go to her for help. I excused myself from Jane and my father and ran up to my room to call her, since it was now an acceptable time of day.

"Lizzie? Is something-" Georgiana began when she answered.

"Yes." I began urgently, cutting her off. "Listen, I'm sorry I left early and everything but my sister-"

"I heard, Darcy and Charlie told me."

"But she was with George." There was a pause on the other line. "I'm sorry if this might be difficult for you, but you were the only I thought to call. My sister, she..."

"Say no more." She told me. "The first thing you need to do is make sure she's coming to terms with reality. That she and George won't be together. The next thing you need to do is call a therapist. When you go through something this traumatic, a therapist can really help. A lot."

"Thanks. Truly, thank you, Georgiana."

"No problem." She answered, and I could somehow tell in her tone that she was happy to help. "And if she ever wants to talk to someone who's experienced this, give her my number."

"I will, thank you."

By the time I had ended my phone call with Georgiana, Lydia was now in the living room with Jane. She was almost unrecognizable from afar. There was a huge gash across her face, and her hair was cut short that it barely grazed her shoulders. When she looked up at me, her eyes were dull and lifeless compared to the excitement I last saw in them just before she left for Louisiana.

"Lydia." I began tentatively as I sat down next to her. "Do you want us to get you anything? Tea, maybe?" She looked up at me, almost as if a hint of hope was in them now. Tea was mine and Jane's thing. We had never before offered to make her a cup, one because she hates tea, and two because she proclaimed more often than not that hot tea was not real tea.

"Sure." She said in a small voice. "I've always kinda wanted to try that apple cinnamon one you both rave about so much." Jane smiled wide, saying she would start on it right away. This left me a chance to talk to Lydia, try to get her to open up about what really happened.

"Are you ready to tell us what happened?" I asked her gently. "I understand if you're not."

"It was a car crash." She said in that same small voice. "There's nothing to talk about. It happened, now I'm here."

"Lydia...I know it wasn't just a car crash." She looked up at me, her eyes narrowed.

"You think George hit me. And so does dad. What is it that makes you two think that?" She looked me straight in the eye, willing me to tell her what I knew. So I did.

"You're not the first girl he's done this to." I told her. "But hopefully you'll be the last. The police are looking for him, Lydia." Tears glazed her eyes as she shook her head at this news. "It's not your fault, Lydia. None of this is." I wrapped my arms around her. She tried push me away, but I refused and she gave in. When Jane came in with the tea, Lydia was sobbing onto my shirt and I was trying to sooth her.

I looked up at Jane, and a look passed between us that said we both knew our sister was the first thing we should deal with. We'd worry about the mystery of how her hospital bills were paid and who started the case on George later.

Lydia was priority number one.