Author's Note: Um. Yeah. First My Sister's Keeper fic. Did I do well? I really, REALLY like Jesse and his Point of View so I was inspired to write this. Ch'yeah. Not a positive story. Seriously.
Disclaimer: I own not any characters in this fic.
Running Away
I am sitting on a wall. Kate would like it here, Anna would have loved it. Below me stretches the beach. The ocean looms ahead. It makes me want to write a poem, or paint, or sing. But I am not in the mood. Tomorrow will be the one year anniversary of Anna's death. I should be at home, mourning with my family.
But I am not.
Down on the beach there is family. A mom, a dad, a younger boy, and an older girl. The mom embraces the son in a hug, scooping him up and enveloping him in what could only be warmth.
There is something slightly unsettling about seeing a mother hug her son. Once upon a time, every time I saw it, my heart dropped. Something inside my head told me that my mom never hugged me like that. Some part of my heart cried out for love. I blamed myself, I blamed my Mom. I blamed the world. But not Kate, never Kate.
Ever since Anna died, I have come to realize humans are imperfect. It took my a while to get past mourning, and even longer to come to accept it wasn't truly anyone's fault. It took me much longer to figure out that happiness can only be found within yourself. It is as simple as that. Following that line of thinking, I should be able to find happiness.
But I won't.
I still miss Anna with every waking bone in my body. In many ways, she was more of a mother to me then anyone else. I think Kate feels the same. Maybe even my dad. I don't know about Mom. No one knows about her. Ever since Anna died, she has been elusive. Depressed. Anna wouldn't have want it that way.
Kate blames herself, I think. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't my fault. It took me a long time to realize that, too. Kate blames the cancer. I don't. And even if I did, cancer can't be killed, so what is the point? Blame does nothing in this world. Forgiveness does. Revenge does more. I should really try and think more positive things.
But I don't.
Kate will live, which is the irony. The bold, blatant irony. She was ready for Montana, ready to see Taylor again. Ready to be painfree. Anna was ready to live. Ready to experience. Ready to be free.
Anna is dead. Kate is alive. I am somewhere between.
That is an evil thought. But it is the truth. The cold, sharp truth that no one will admit but everyone has on their minds. Truth hurts. Anna is dead. It hurts.
Sometime I wonder why I am not dead. I deserve it more. I used to try and convince myself otherwise. I am the normal child, the stupid child. The healthy child. The alive child. I should feel lucky.
But I don't.
I wonder if I will ever see Anna again. I want to thank her, I want to hug her. Part of me believes she already knew, in the moments before her death, how much I loved her. How much Kate loved her. How much mom and dad loved her. But I have always been a doubter. What if she didn't? I need to tell her. I need to tell Anna thanks. More than thanks. She was my sister. What if I don't see her? I should be hoping, and praying, and asking for forgiveness.
But I am not.
I watch the sunset over the ocean. I should be home, but I can't take the pressure. The unspoken truths, the lies that linger in the air. I do it often, just walk out. Run away. Escape. I am a coward. But they never notice. Too busy, too preoccupied, to notice the lone son escaping from every day life. Anna wouldn't have wanted me to run.
But I do.