Mine is a tragic tale of anxiety and vastly complicated health problems which lead to my untimely immobilization. Eerily similar to that of Romeo and Juliet, nothing was ever easy or accessible. For some time, I lived in secrecy, blissful secrecy, to protect myself and my family from the truth. If they knew, it would be catastrophic.
Most people had known me as 'Luke's little sister' or 'the only Hemmings with brown hair', but to him, I was much more than that. I was more than an obstacle or someone to beat.
Or so I thought.
It was ritual for Ashton and I to hang out after school, which did lead to make outs and shameless sex, but I wouldn't consider us fuck buddies.
More like friends with a whole lot of benefits.
Being the only girl in my family, it wasn't a secret that my relationship had to be kept behind closed doors with locks and bolts.
Not to mention that everyone related to me thought of Ashton as the scum at the bottom of their shoe. It was all conceived of his egotistical ways and overly confident persona, which I found incredibly charming. He had a way about him. The way that he held himself with so much dignity drew me in from the darkest of corners.
When I was younger, I thought I was adopted. Now, I can't think of a single way that I'm not. I was the total black sheep of the family. Not only do my facial features resemble nothing of my so called family's, our mental states were polar opposites. They were rather carefree 'don't give two shits' people. I was the 'anxiety rules my life and brain' type of person.
And that's how I got to where I was then.
My hands trembled as I climbed the steps to my house. It was a moderate sized home considering it was now only Mum, Dad, Luke, and I by ourselves with the occasional visit from our brothers. Those visits were few and far between with their busy schedules and leading their own lives. They were off having children and getting married, doing adult things which called them away from our subdivision in Sydney.
Not that I was complaining. The less people to hide from, the less risk of exposure.
My feet grew heavier with each step I struggled to take, climbing treacherously up the front steps, knees threatening to buckle at the peak. The concrete beneath my feet had never felt so agonizingly hard and the warm air began to burn my lungs.
Breathing became a difficult task, so I stood with my hand pressing hard into my knee cap, trying to catch my breath. I could faintly hear my own wheezing over the sound of blood rushing through my ears and around my skull like the current of a raging river. I batted my eyes a few times, trying to clear my vision from its haze.
The door in front of me, holding most of my weight, swung open with a shriek, resulting in me tumbling into my brother. We skidded across the floor, gently knocking into the wall on our left. My knees burned from the friction against the hardwood flooring. I squirmed uncomfortably trying to roll over.
Still, I heaved in gulps of air, fluttering my eye lids open and closed. My stomach did cartwheels inside my stomach preventing my from getting much motion. I laid stagnant trying to gain focus, trying to gain stability. The ceiling above me swirled above me like an oil painting and I couldn't tell where the wall ended and the ceiling began.
Luke shimmied out from under me swiftly, realizing my state. He shook his head slightly, swooping me up in his arms. I lazily wrapped my arms around his neck, tucking my head into the crook between his arm and chest. My efforts were almost useless as I didn't really have the strength to hold myself to him.
"They are getting worse, Hannah," he sighed as he shuffled into my room. The door swung forcefully into my wall with a thud as Luke's footsteps were silenced on my carpeted floors. The familiar sound of my fan buzzing comforted me while I heaved in air.
I was set down in my bed while he scurried to find my medication and some water. I stared at the ceiling, sputtering. I forcefully clenched my eyes closed as I coughed softly, not bothering to open them once my fit was over.
He came back to see my eyes closed while I tried to control my body. I tightened my hands into a fist around my sheets. The mattress dipped under his weight, causing me to roll towards him a little. My hip bumped his knee and kept me from tumbling onto the floor once again.
I graciously accepted the drugs, downing them instantly. I shakily brought the cup to my lips again to chase my original gulp. He rubbed circles on the back of my hands slowly. I could feel the bags under my eyes forming as I squinted over at him.
"Where were you," he asked lowly, dropping my hand. It slumped to my side and I inwardly groaned, wanting to avoid this conversation.
I knew that Luke had began to catch on to my little white lies, but I thought I was more solid than this. For the past two weeks he had been more inquisitive, more likely to raise an eyebrow and try to tear apart my alibi. "Studying." I replied shortly. I hoped it was enough.
"That's bullshit and you know it," he grunted, giving me a pointed look. I couldn't tell if his eyes were filled with disappointment or anger. Adverting my gaze to the ceiling once more, I tried to pry myself out of the tension laid on my chest. It was partially guilt, but also anxiety of having to end my relationship with Ashton.
I shrugged reluctantly, making sure that I didn't slip up. I easily slipped my lower lip between my teeth and chewed on it softly. I kept my eyes trained on my ivory ceiling instead of him.
Lying to Luke was one of my least favorite things to do. Truthfully, it sickened me that I'd grown so accustomed to it, but I was in too deep. The best I could do was try harder to cover it up and keep him from being suspicious. Luke wouldn't ever do anything so deceptive, but I had to remind myself that I wasn't Luke.
Luke whispered quietly, "I am scheduling a doctor's appointment, you're supposed to get better." At that point, I realized it was longing that Luke was filled with. A longing for a way to help me, a longing for a way to get me to let him in.