ƒσяgινє σя ƒσяgєт. {A Story}

[♪☾нυяяι¢αηє ιѕαвєℓ☽☠]

Chapter One.
{Derek}

I remember that it was dark. Very dark. Which was very misleading for us. No one was supposed to be home.

It wasn't even a very nice place. It was about average. A duplex, I think. But the second half wasn't owned. Mikey had told me this. He always scoped out the houses before we broke in.

We needed the money, and the stuff. At least, I thought we did. But now I see it wasn't worth it. The back window was unlocked. We slipped in easily, all four of us. It was hard to see in the dark and we didn't want to turn on any lights, so we fumbled blindly through the night, grabbing random objects that felt valuable. I didn't really want to be there. Maybe I was just trying to prove something to the guys. Like I was tough, too. I guess that was immature of me. If you're trying to make someone think something about you, their opinion better be worth it. You could end up doing something irreversible. Which is what I did.

The girl moved silently, like a shadow. We never saw her coming. The lights flicked on, and the first thing I saw was her striking blue eyes, narrowed. Like she wasn't afraid of us. Maybe she thought the intruders in her home were a figment of her imagination. She thought she was dreaming. Maybe she was too dazed and sleepy to think straight. She was wearing pink and black flannel pajama pants and an unmatching blue camisole. Typical teen girl sleepwear. So I knew she'd been asleep. Maybe she was going to say something. But before she could, the gun went off. It was loud. The sound shattered the still night air. That was when her eyes showed alarm. Everything was happening in slow motion. Shane's shouts to run, the girl's knees buckling as she collapsed on the floor, the rough hand grasping my arm and dragging me towards the open window. I turned back. That's what I remember the most clearly. Turning back. It was like signaling that I was human. And I knew then that I wasn't ready. I would never be ready to do something that these guys, only a few years older than me, did all the time. I was just an angry kid who thought he was tough.

{Shay}

I was wide awake. Staring at my ceiling. Thinking about how I wished I was someone different. Someone happy and bright and bubbly. Mostly happy. I couldn't tell why I wasn't happy, though. I had a nice family. My mother was caring and loving, even though she worked almost all the time and didn't maintain the best relationship with her kids. My older brother never picked on me. He always defended me, hung out with me, loved me. I know a lot of kids can't say the same thing about their siblings. We'd gotten rid of my deadbeat father when I was nine. So now my family was perfect. I had a nice house. Not the biggest or best, but I loved it. I had a sweet cat and good grades. Not many friends, but I didn't think I needed them. I sort of kept to myself at school. A few friends and boyfriends had come and gone. I'd never felt anything for anyone that wasn't temporary. But I guess I'm considered smart and pretty and maybe even likable. I was lucky. So why wasn't I happy? These were the questions that kept me up at night.

I heard the voices around two in the morning. Hushed, low, monotonous words. I wasn't that frightened, but my heart was beating like a drum as I slipped out of bed. I guess I'd forgotten that my mom was spending her two-day break from work in Chicago with her girl friends and Jared was sleeping over at his friend's house, so I thought it was them, discussing something late at night without me. Which annoyed me. I flicked on the light switch, my face set in a scowl. I saw four young men--they looked about college and high-school age. They stared at me for a fraction of a second, eyes wide with alarm. One boy, a dark-haired teen with pale skin and bright green eyes, looked especially shocked. Fixing them with an annoyed glare, I decided I was having some sort of hallucination. I was going to shush them and go back to bed. Then I was staring straight down the barrel of a gun. That's when I realized this was real life. My heart jumped and I jerked to the side as the gun went off. I felt an impact in my shoulder, but the sharp pain wasn't nearly as severe as I expected it to be until I saw the boy from earlier, the green-eyed boy who'd looked so startled, turn and make eye contact with me. The only emotion I could make out in his eyes was regret. Then the world turned upside down and I fell to the floor with no sound, although agony was rippling through my shoulder and left arm. As the caterwaul of sirens sliced through the night, I slipped into blissful oblivion.

[♪☾нυяяι¢αηє ιѕαвєℓ☽☠]

Chapter 2.

{Derek}

"Her name is Shay Oceana Sabres. S.O.S. Get it? Her initials? Coulda used an SOS last week, huh?" Mikey chuckled.
I was not laughing. "Is she alive?" I was keeping my questions as detached and unthorough as possible. Even now, he didn't want to seem like he cared about our victim at all. "The chick's fine, Der, don't look so worked up. She couldn't identify any of us. We're in the clear." Mikey looked elated. My stomach churned. "She in the hospital? Her family?" I inquired casually. "Yeah, she'll be there for quite a while. Apparently she's pretty damaged. Only family is her ma, who has to go back to work on the second week, and her bro, who can't get a ride to the hospital without his mom's car, so he won't be there." Mikey frowned. "D*mmit, Der, why are you asking me all these questions?" I shrugged. "Just wondering where you get all this info." "Sources. I gotta run, kay? See you 'round." Mikey hopped back in his beat-up blue truck and peeled out of the driveway, sattelite radio blasting rap out of his sunroof.

I let out a deep breath as I shut the front door behind me. "Derek?" My mother emerged from our cozy little kitchen. "Who was that?" I stared tiredly at her. She had that face that you could see and just know that once, she had been beautiful. She had lit up a room the moment she walked in. She'd been the coveted belle of the ball. But years of pain and hardship had worn down on her, creasing her face, erasing the sparkle in her exquisite green eyes, dulling her golden blonde hair. She was so strong, but she now looked so fragile. I hated lying to her. Unfortunately, I did it almost every night. "My science partner, Miguel." I sigh after a pause. Mikey's full name was Miguel, but he wasn't my science partner. See what I did there? Always a half-truth. But still a lie.

As I laid down on top of the covers of my bed to fall asleep, I heard a small squeak of protest. "Evie?" I stood up, pulling the pile of dirty clothes and sheets off my bed. The first thing I saw was a mess of golden curls and bright green eyes. "Evangeline. What are you doing?" "I was waiting for you." My seven-year-old sister mumbled, her voice small. "I was scared." "What are you scared of?" I asked gently. "The TV. The news." My heart sank. I knew what she was talking about. "Go back to your own room." I ordered, but my heart wasn't in it.

And she knew it. At three in the morning, when I woke from a troubled sleep, an angelic little girl was curled on the carpet beside my bed.

{Shay}

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I only woke up because I was annoyed. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeep. Beep. Beep. Beepbeepbeep. Beep. The sound of the heart monitor sounded like it was trying to be a song, but only had a sloppy, irregular beat, and one note. I hated that I couldn't sing along. Then, the other sounds filtered in. Sirens blaring, rushed voices. My arm was in an awkward position, my shoulder and chest were all wet. Wet? Was it raining? Warm, thick rain? Oh, no. That was blood. Of course. I lifted my good arm to tug at the scrubs of one of the medics dressed in an ugly shade of mint green standing over me. "Hey. Shut that thing up." I demanded, surprised at how soft and exhausted my whispery voice sounded. That one gesture sapped all my strength. I slipped back into unconsciousness.

The first thing I saw when I woke up was a ceiling so white that it was blinding. I hated it. White--how bland, how dull. Even black was a more exciting color than white. This was not what I wanted to see, waking after four days. I would have much preferred a calm shade of gray, pretty but easy on the eyes. Yes. Gray. Was that strange? "Shay!" My mom's shrill, relieved voice pierced my thoughts. I knew I should have been happy to hear her, but I wasn't. I just wanted to be alone for a while. "Hi, Mom." I said tiredly, looking around the sterile white room. Several vases of flowers brightened the area. Otherwise--boring, plaster white. "Oh, honey, I was so worried." My mother threw her arms around me and squeezed. I gasped in pain as a sharp pang traveled through my shoulder and arm. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot." She pulled away hastily, her dark blue eyes locked on my shoulder. It ached, terribly. But I didn't want to pull down my sleeve and look at it until she was gone. Then I noticed my brother, leaning against the doorway, a crooked smile plastered on his face. "Hey, sissy." He greeted. "Like my art?" he gestured to my left. I turned and smiled. A pink balloon had the words 'It's a girl!' crossed out, and over it were the words "Give 'em h*ll, kid," scrawled in messy sharpie. "It's lovely, Jay." I told him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Late that night, my family left, promising to be back tomorrow. They visited and stayed all day until a week had passed, with me remaining immobile in my prison cell of a guerney. Then, they delivered the news. "Sweetie, I have to go back to work tomorrow, and Jared needs to go to school. We'll still visit at night, and the doctors and nurses will take good care of you, alright?" And then they were gone. I had puzzle books, television, novels, an entire craft room of resources at the tips of my fingers, hours of entertainment in front of me as soon as I gave the word. But I wanted to be outside. I wanted to run. I wanted to be able to walk down the street without becoming exhausted and strained and feel my arm wail in protest. The nurses called my mother with the news that I wasn't eating, wasn't sleeping, wasn't speaking. Still, she did not leave work.

I didn't realize how unbearably lonely I had been all my life until I realized that I almost died, and the two people who cared couldn't be there.

And suddenly, I had a new visitor. And I had no idea who he was.

{Comments and criticism is always appreciated. I love feedback }

[♪☾нυяяι¢αηє ιѕαвєℓ☽☠]

Chapter 2.

{Derek}

On Tuesday, June 25th, I made a very stupid decision.

I went to visit her. The girl that we--that Mikey--shot. I had no idea why, or what I would say. I thought that if I could make her life just a little bit easier, I could erase some of the turmoil inside me. Maybe I was realizing that I was--or at least, wanted to be--a good person.

Growing up as an inner-city kid, it wasn't hard for me to become sort of a delinquent. My friends--if I can call them friends--were the other screwed-up kids of the school. A group interested in graffitti and theft. We never really hurt anybody. None of us had guns. Mikey's handgun had been stolen from his father. We were just the tough kids of school, the juvenile delinquents, the badboys. I wanted to fit in somewhere. They fit the bill. And my family needed money anyways. That was why we tried to rob the house that night. We were so, so stupid. But all our break-ins had gone fine before.

Of course, I did not plan on telling the girl any of that.

I showed up with a bunch of daisies. I didn't know what kind of flowers she liked, what her favorite color was. I knew so little about the person I'd almost killed. "I'm looking for Shay Oceana Sabres." I told the receptionist, amazed at how steady my voice was. The desk lady looked me up and down, making a tsk noise as she took in my sideways cap, baggy jeans, ragged t-shirt. I imagined the pinched-faced woman thinking Ruffian! in a British accent. I almost laughed. But I was too somber. "She's in room 490 in the bullet trauma ward." The woman told him tightly. "What's your name? Are you a close relative?" "I'm Derek...Cahill. Her...cousin." I guessed, hoping that was close enough. "Marie will escort you." A tall redheaded nurse led Derek up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. "Shay...you have a visitor..." the nurse called softly and sweetly as she pushed open a door marked 490. As I followed her in, I was taken aback by the sight before me. Surrounded by flowers, books, stuffed animals, and a few balloons, was a familiar blue-eyes brunette. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face was pale, she looked unhealthily thin, and she had a few wires protruding from her arm. And yet, she was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. "It's your cousin, Derek." I winced as the nurse informed her that he was her cousin. He waited for her to protest. To see him, recognize him, announce that he and his buddies had put her in the hospital. Instead, after a pause, with narrowed eyes, she said, "Hey, Cuz. How you been?" Astonished, but not so surprised as to lose control of my mouth, I replied coolly and swiftly. "Looks like I've been better than you." The nurse smiled and closed the door. As soon as I saw her leave, I whipped around and fixed Shay with an even stare. "Do you know who I am?" She frowned, scrutinizing me with careful eyes. "Honestly, no. You don't seem familiar." I almost collapsed with relief. She didn't know. She couldn't remember. "I'm your cousin Derek." I lied. "I don't think you've ever met me, except when we were very little." The lies came almost too easily. "I heard you were opening a flower store." I attempted to lighten the mood, gesturing at all the bouqets surrounding her and adding my daisies to the mix. Shay rolled onto her side, no longer looking at me, but instead reaching out to touch the petals of the white flowers. "I like to pretend they're all from different people." she murmured. Glancing at a few of the cards on the bouqets, I noticed they all read, I love you. -Mom or Your loving brother J. So, she didn't have many friends. As her arm extended towards the plant, her hand couldn't get close enough before a thin tube attached to the crook of her inner elbow tugged at her skin. She looked frustrated and attempted to reach her hand farther. Without thinking, Derek reached out and gently grasped her arm, lightly pulling it back to relieve the tension in the wire. "Careful," I admonished. "You'll tear the IV out." "I don't care. I don't need it." Shay said irritably. "Yes, you do." I could tell she didn't like being told what to do, but she obeyed. I pulled a daisy from the bunch and gave it to her so she didn't have to reach. "Do you like flowers?" "I love them." she sighed, inhaling the scent. "What's your favorite?" "Celandines." she sounded sad as she said it. I soon found out why. "They don't come in stores. You have to go out deep into the forest to find them. They're woodland flowers. But I like lilies." she seemed to be talking to herself now. "Okay. I'll remember that." I suddenly felt very unstable. Here we were, having a conversation about flowers. She'd just met me and she didn't seem weirded out at all. "Hey...I'll come back later. Okay?" I said.

She nodded slowly, still not looking at me. "Okay. Hey...Derek?"
Her voice saying my name filled me with dread. "Yes?"
"Why, after all these years, are you suddenly coming to see me now?"

[♪☾нυяяι¢αηє ιѕαвєℓ☽☠]

Because you need someone now. Because you have no one else. Because this is all my fault. Because I helped shoot you.
"Dunno." Rather than say what was on my mind, I shrugged and backed out of the room. As soon as Mary, the nurse, had led me back down to the first level, I let out a long, drawn-out sigh, slowly pacing the waiting room. I shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake. The more I got myself involved in this whole situation, the harder it was going to be to get out. It would be easier on everyone to leave, and never come back, and just forget about it.

But whoever said I did what would be easiest?

{Shay}

I was lying when I said I didn't remember him.
Partially. It was like...severe deja vu. I remembered his face, his height, the hat he was wearing. But I didn't remember where I'd seen him before.

I wasn't really paying attention to Derek's words. I was just struggling to remember. I answered his questions distractedly, only focusing when my stupid IV wouldn't let me reach the flowers. I didn't want those dumb tubes sticking out of my arms. I didn't want to be secured to this guerney for another month. All alone.

So I screamed. A minute after Derek was gone, I screamed. Loud, agonized, tortured wails. On and on and on, for what seemed like forever (but only lasted a few seconds) until three nurses rushed in. "What is it, Shay? What's the matter?" Ruby, the redhead(how fitting) regarded her with wide, almost frightened eyes as she inquired. "Let me out!" I screamed. "I want to get out!" I struggled against the velcrow straps tugging at my wrists. They were supposed to "secure my limbs" so that I didn't "hurt my support systems". Now I saw them for what they really were--bindings. These were chains. "Sabres." the stern voice of Laila, the mocha-skinned ex-army nurse, quieted me. Usually she was the only one I respected/listened to. "Sit down and shut up. You can't leave until your wound is healed. That's your only option." The other two nurses looked appalled at Laila's forceful manner, but I liked her no-nonsense persona. At least she treated me like a person, not a wounded kitten. Even so, I wasn't done with my tantrum."But I want to!" I wailed and pouted like a child. Ruby and Charlotte--the two other nurses--were slowly retreating from the room. They'd never seen me so energetic--or aggressive. "Sabres! You are sixteen, not six. Get a grip." Laila ordered. "I can't stay like this, Laila! I don't like it! Soon I'll be attached to this guerney! Look! It's already grabbing me." I cried, tearing the red IV wire from my arm with a shriek of pain and anger. Charlotte was speaking into a phone, hushed and rapidly, as she slowly shuffled backwards. I caught little fragments of speech. Acting insane...harmful to self...possibly post-traumatic experience syndrome...character disorder?

I didn't care if they thought I was crazy. I wanted out. "Shay, if you keep acting like this, we're putting more security on your guerney. You'll have to go to see the psychiatrist. Every day. We'll have to prescribe even more medications. Do you want all those things?" Laila's voice, though firm and irritated, was nonetheless soothing. And I didn't want any of those things. "Okay." My voice was small. "Now, soon we'll have you on your feet once in a while doing exercises. You know, physical therapy. Okay?" "Okay." I repeated. Laila flashed a rare smile. "Good. Ruby will bring you your meds."

I tongued the painkillers and spat them out once the nurse was gone. I wasn't taking anything they were giving me.

[♪☾нυяяι¢αηє ιѕαвєℓ☽☠]

Chapter 3.
{Derek}

I paced in the waiting room for a while, heart racing. Why had I chickened out like that? I shouldn't have come. "Excuse me!" The pinched-faced receptionist waved her pale hand at me. "Mr. Cahill. I see you've finished your visit. That was brief. Listen, I need you to add your name to her list of emergency contacts. As a minor she is supposed to have five, but she only has two. Could you sign this with your name and contact info?"

I should have walked away. Just turned and left.

But I didn't. I hesitated, then approached and took her pen. A fake, plastic purple lily was taped to the pen. I hated that lily for being so fake. Being just a copy of all other lilies.

Derek Cahill.//Cousin//17. I filled out my contact information and left. I lived a block away from the hospital, so I jogged home. As I entered, my mother was waiting for me, standing with her hands on her hips. Her face was drawn and serious. I was in trouble.

"It's summer. You don't have school. Why were you meeting with your science partner?" she questioned.

I thought rapidly. Uh... "Just because he's my science partner doesn't mean he can't be my friend too." Weak, but it fit. "Call him your friend then. Where have you been?" Half-truth time. "At the hospital. My friend is sick. Miguel was over to tell me about it." My mom's face relaxed. Success--I was in the clear. "Oh, honey, I would have driven you." she said kindly, putting a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay. I wanted to go for a run anways." I shrugged. "All right. I'm going to go take a nap. Okay?" My mother worked very irregular shifts. She didn't have a set schedule, just worked for minimum wage whenever she could. In her spare time, she slept, and cooked, and tried to entertain Evangeline. "Make your sister some lunch?" "Kay, Mom." I went into the kitchen. Evangeline was on the tile floor, coloring on some white paper with wide markers. "What're you drawing, midget?" I asked apathetically, tugging some cheerios out of a cupboard. "I am not a midget." Evie protested. I patted her blonde head and dropped the cheerios next to her. "It's our family. Here's you, here's mom, here's Rover...hey, Der, I don't want cereal." she looked angry. "I'm tired, midge, I don't feel like making you food." "Derek if you don't make me real food I'm going to hold my breath until I die!" she yelled, sucking in a huge gasp of air, then closing her mouth, eyes alight with defiance. "That's impossible, you'll just pass out then wake up and be fine." I said bluntly. She released the air and glared at me. "You don't love me. You don't want me to be your sister. You don't think I'm good enough." That got me, as it usually did. "Fine, midge, you win. What do you want?" "Peanut butter sandwich." she sat back, looking pleased with herself, as if she was the most clever seven-year-old who ever conned her brother into making her a sandwich. I gave her the food and she ate it on the floor. "Anyways. Thif," she mumbled around a mouthful of sticky peanut butter, "If our fam-ly. You, Mom, Rover, and me." Evie, for her age, was actually not that bad of an artist. I could tell she'd be a skilled drawer one day. I didn't praise her, though. "It's really dumb that you named your cat Rover. That's a dog's name." I informed her for the hundredth time. "Shut up, Dere. Don't be mean." she picked up her papers and moved into the living room. I sighed and leaned back against the wall.

[like a king.]

Amazing story.
I love it so much ^^
Please, keep writing!

[♪☾нυяяι¢αηє ιѕαвєℓ☽☠]

Thank you!

[♪☾нυяяι¢αηє ιѕαвєℓ☽☠]

{Shay}

My first flowers started dying today. I think this was fairly traumatizing for me. It meant I had been in this hospital so long that something had lived, grown old, and died at my bedside. I let myself cry for the first time since the shooting.

My mother and brother visited all the time on weekends. Each time, Mom requested that I be given more medication. Each time, I pretended to swallow the pills but pressed them under my tongue until I was alone, then spit them out and tossed them out the window next to my bed. I was allowed to open the window whenever I felt like it now; previously, I'd had to request a nurse to open it for me. I was on the third floor and it hurt to crane my head around to see the view. This made me want to take the painkillers, but some paranoia in me forced me to avoid them.

I began physical therapy. It was just walking around, swinging my arms, stretching my legs. I loved it, but I guess I was still too weak, because once I couldn't keep from wincing, they stuck me right back in the guerney.

Even though Laila had promised me immunity if I didn't act out again, they sent a shrink to my room. The short, greying woman looked somewhere between fifty and sixty. Her name was Gretchen Lozano, and she insisted I call her Dr. Lozano. She had beady, narrow eyes and tight, thin lips. She made scornful noises such as "uh-oh" and "huh" and "yes..." that made me want to slap her. She sat next to me and after a while I stopped talking. I didn't want to let this rodent of a woman into my brain. She gave me theories that made me think she hadn't ever been listening. "Perhaps you are feeling abandoned, because you rarely receive visitors." "That's a bit rude of you to state." "I'm trying to help you, dear." "Please don't call me that." "Were you a very outgoing or kind person before the accident?" "It wasn't an accident. Someone shot me." "I thought you said you didn't remember it." "Most of it, I don't. But I don't need to remember it to know what happened." "Okay, dear. Please don't change the subject. Now, who were your two closest friends?" "Um..." "Did you have a boyfriend or crush?" "Um..." "Were you considered popular?" "Um..."

Eventually, her bi-weekly visits were wearing down on me. And when I finally snapped, she took out her rage at me on my diagnosis.

"I wish you would answer me and stop being so disrespectful and arrogant. 'Um' is not a word, dear."
"Oh, up yours, Gretchen." I replied calmly, my voice even but my eyes blazing.
She gasped, scribbled rapidly on the clipboard, and excused herself from the room.

A week later, she returned. "I have diagnosed you with a severe character disorder. A psychiatrist has looked over my notes and prescribed you anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication. A nurse will bring you them each day." "I'm not depressed. I'm not anxious." I said coolly. "But you are. You also have quite a temper. I will maintain my bi-weekly visits to see if your behavior changes." She promptly left the room. I shoved a vase of dead flowers off the table. The vase hit the ground and shattered into pieces, the pale ceramic shards seeming somewhat metaphorical. Ruby entered and dutifully swept up the pieces like a good little intern.

Laila entered an hour later. "Doctor Lozano prescribed these pills for you." she gave me a plastic cup of red, purple, and white tablets. "I don't want them." I said flatly. "And I don't care." Laila's light Brazilian accent made her tough words seem softer. "You must take them to get better." I impulsively grabbed her wrist and looked up at her with urgent eyes. "Am I sick?" I whispered. She looked taken aback. "Yes...Doctor Lozano has diagnosed you with a mental illness." "So I have a disease? Am I contagious?" My voice was pleading, desperate, and neither of us knew why. "No; this is a different type of sickness." I released her arm and sat back. "I am not sick." I told her. "I'm perfectly healthy. I could walk out of this hospital right now and be fine."

"Yes." Laila agreed half-heartedly, her warm brown eyes glistening as she backed out of the room. "I'm sure you could. But not by yourself."

For a moment, I thought she was going to cry.

[♪☾нυяяι¢αηє ιѕαвєℓ☽☠]

Bump!

I'd love it if more people read this story so I can get some more feedback. I know I've made at least a few errors, and I'd like to hear suggestions on how to make the story better. I'd also love to hear predictions of what readers think might happen next. So please, if you read this story, I encourage you to comment!

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[♪☾нυяяι¢αηє ιѕαвєℓ☽☠]

Bump!!