Dear readers,
Three things: the first is that I don't own Harry Potter. The second is that I do own Sheridan Hatfield and her family, and the third is that this is a companion piece to my currently-under-construction multi-chapter fic 'Guts and Great Things', although you don't necessarily have to have read that to understand this.
If you're wondering how on earth I know stuff about the disease which is central to this fic, I had to do an assignment on it for a Biology unit in Science at school. It was quite interesting, and I'm glad that it's actually coming in handy.
Thank you so much for reading. It would be amazing if you could leave a review on your way out and let me know what you think!
Love,
Lyn
It is a well-known fact that little children do not understand the complex workings of the world, nor do they understand that sometimes hefty burdens are thrust into unsuspecting hands. Eight-year-old Sheridan Hatfield was no exception.
Sheridan had been excited about the birth of her baby brother, but that excitement was short-lived. As soon as Christopher came home, it seemed as if Sheridan had become invisible. It was always 'Christopher this' and 'Christopher that'. No-one who came to visit ever paid her any attention. They would always walk straight past her with not so much as a glance in her direction, and they'd make disgusting cooing noises at the baby. Even after a few weeks, her parents had stopped spending time with Sheridan. They were so enamoured of the baby that they didn't seem to care for their other child.
After two years of being ignored by her parents, Sheridan had grown used to it. She just accepted the fact that she was unloved. When it seemed that things could not get any worse, one day, her mother and father began discussing some strange thing which sounded to Sheridan like 'sixty-five roses'. She wondered whether they were planning to give her a bunch of sixty-five roses to say sorry for ignoring her for two years.
Soon, the bombshell was dropped into Sheridan's life. She knew things were getting serious when her parents sat her down on the couch one morning after taking her away from her playthings.
"Sheridan," said her father seriously. "We need to talk to you about something, but we need you to be really grown-up about it, okay?"
"Okay," she had said.
Grasping her daughter's hand and gazing into her eyes, her mother said, "Your brother is very sick. He has a disease called cystic fibrosis. What that means is that there's some stuff called mucus in his lungs and his stomach. That mucus makes it difficult for him to breathe properly and digest food. We're going to have to spend lots of time with Chris to help him. He needs to take some tablets with his food and we'll have to do some exercises with him to make sure the mucus doesn't clog his lungs."
Sheridan remained silent. With a worried look on his face, her father leaned forward. "It's going to be okay, Sheridan. It's going to be just fine. We love you just as much as always."
This was none too reassuring for a girl of a mere eight years who had been ignored and unloved for two years solid. Without a word, Sheridan turned and ran up the stairs, tears burning the backs of her eyes. Upon reaching her room, she threw herself onto her bed, a loud sob escaping her lips. After several minutes of tears, Sheridan, now exhausted, closed her eyes and slept, hoping never to wake up.
Luck was not on her side that day. She awoke to a weight on the end of her bed, and a hand softly stroking her hair. She usually loved it when her father did that. There was something strangely relaxing about it. But tonight, Sheridan did not want anything to do with her father, let alone have him stroke her hair like everything was all fine and good. Sheridan resolutely pretended to be asleep. After a while, Sheridan's father let out a heavy sigh, and his exit was signalled with the weight being lifted from the bed and the soft groan of the door as it was being closed behind him.
Sheridan fell once again into a fitful slumber, filled with dreams of large expanses of desert where she was calling for her mother and father to help her. In the sky, she saw images of them both embracing Christopher, showering him with kisses. To her horror, she recognised that they were in the living room, and the photograph of Sheridan and her mother and father was not as it should have been. As Sheridan looked at it more carefully, her image faded more and more, until she disappeared completely.
A moment later, she woke up sobbing. Somehow, she knew that her nightmare was getting closer and closer to becoming her reality, and that, Sheridan decided, was not a burden which she was willing to bear.