Position: Beater 2
Team: Holyhead Harpies
Prompts: Bleeding heavily, Dialogue: "Look, it doesn't matter. Forget it, okay?"
I was laying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, when I heard it. A was a muffled clatter and a yelp came from the kitchen, too soft for anyone asleep to hear. I groaned and pushed myself up, annoyed at whoever made the noise. I checked the clock.
2:15 in the morning? Who would be out of bed now?
I threw the blankets off, and was met by a rush of cold. I shivered, my feet hitting the almost-frozen floorboards. Then I noticed something strange.
The bed across from me had no movement coming from it. The covers were completely still.
"Al," I called cautiously, floorboards creaking under my feet. Normally I would see the steady movement of his breathing.
"Hey, are you-"
I pulled back the covers to be met by nothing. Al wasn't there. My heart started beating a little faster, but I refused to panic. He was probably with dad downstairs, and that was what the clatter and yelp was. Al often asks dad to make him hot chocolate when he's cold. But at this hour?
I stumble down the stairs and burst into the kitchen.
Steaming water was splattered across the floor, an empty kettle lying in it. An instant-hot chocolate packet was ripped open, powder strewn everywhere. I saw a figure hunched in the darkness, sniffling, holding his arm. I turned on the lights.
"Al!" I cried, rushing towards him. I didn't let the hot water bother me. I had to get to my brother, I had to see if he was alright. I knelt beside him.
"Al, what happened? Are you alr-"
"Get away from me, James!" He shoved me from him, turning his face away; but not before I caught a glimpse of tears running down his face.
"Hey!" I shouted, grabbing his wrists, making him turn towards me again. I gasped as I caught sight of his right arm. My stomach churned, and I felt nauseas.
It was bright red, blistered and painful-looking. Most of the skin broke, and he was bleeding heavily. I grew pale, as if the blood was rushing out of my body instead of his. The wound ran from his wrist to elbow, thick and inflamed. He was very badly burned.
Then the last emotion I expected tan through me. I expected shock, pity, fear. But the emotion that ran through me was anger. Sure we get mad at each other constantly. We fight daily, over petty little things. It shouldn't really surprise me so much that I was angry, but it did. No matter how much we fought, no matter how much we claimed to hate each other, we're brothers. we love each other, and we know it. We just don't care to admit it.
So maybe that's why I was so angry with him. I couldn't believe he could do something so careless when he was perfectly aware of his disability. I couldn't handle the fact that he'd put himself in danger like that. I know it was stupid, arrogant and selfish, but I took it personally. How dare he hurt himself when he knew perfectly well how much pain it would cause me? How could he do that to me? So the emotion I felt coursing through me was pure, unadulterated rage.
"What on earth made you think you could do this on your own?! What possibly made you think you could handle hot water? this is serious! I can't believe you could do something so stupid! Why would you even try to do this on your own when I was right there, perfectly capable of making my own little brother a cup of hot chocolate? You're disabled, and you know that damn well! You can't see, Al!"
"I know that," he yelled, standing up. Tears streaked his face, and he gave a hiccup. Even so, he seemed just as enraged as I was. He stared down at me, using my voice to guide him like I know he always does. Even so, his eyes rested a little above mine, where he thought my eyes were.
"You think I've forgotten? You think I like being watched over like a toddler, not being able to do anything on my own? You think I like having to be dependent on everyone? Do you think it's fun?!"
I watched him rant, eyes definitely not what you would expect a blind person's eyes to look like. You would probably expect cloudy, emotionless eyes. Eyes that didn't see couldn't express emotion, right? No. Al's eyes, though sightless, were a sharp and clear green, capable of tears and anger and happiness just like any others. All the anger was sucked right out of me, but he kept going.
"No! I was born this way, James, I can't even imagine what sight is like! You don't even know how lucky you are, to be able to see things! All I am is a burden to this family, and you know it. Everyone has to do everything for me! People see me and think I'm this helpless little blind boy who can't do anything on his own, and that they need to help me. They think I'm too fragile to actually do anything. It's like I'm not my own person! But I can do things on my own! People just won't let me. I wanted to prove that I can be independent. I just- I just wanted to do something myself for a change!"
He looked away, sniffing.
"Al, I'm-"
"Don't you dare say that you're 'sorry'! That you're 'sorry' I am the way I am. I don't need you apologizing for something no one can control. Just..."
He seemed so tired, as if saying all that had exhausted him.
"Al, come on..." I was at a complete loss for words.
"Look, it doesn't matter. Just forget about it, okay? Go upstairs, back to sleep. I'll clean this mess up. Goodnight," he said curtly, with such sense of finality that I was almost tempted to go back to bed, to do what he wanted me to do. But I couldn't. I got paper towels and started mopping up the now-cool water on the floor.
"What did I just tell you?! I don't want you to do it for me!"
I rolled my eyes.
"I'm sure as hell not doing it for you. You're going to come here and clean this mess up with me. You're not getting off the hook."
He seemed speechless, and just stood there for a minute. Then he picked up a towel and knelt down next to me, cleaning the floor. I didn't look at him, but I could tell.
He was smiling.