Most of this story will be of Callie and Ava, her sister who is 16 months older than Callie. Other characters will be involved though.
Callie hasn't been the same since she came back from being snatched out of the house two days ago. She was home and that was the important thing. but I was watching her put her walls back up. She talked to me, but less to everybody else. I think she is mad and Lena and Stef, and I can't blame her for that. Things are changing though. Suddenly, Callie and I aren't full sisters like we always thought. We never even considered not being full sisters. Now she has another half-sister but from her birthfather's marriage. Sometimes I feel like Callie always gets the crap end of the stick. First, the horrible thing that happened with Liam. I can't even say the word, it made me sick to my stomach. Now she can't be adopted and has a father and sister she didn't even know existed.
Since Callie came home, we fell asleep in different beds, but when I woke up in the middle of the night she was laying next to me either fast asleep or silently crying. When I would find her crying, I would run my fingers through her hair like I used to when we first went into foster care. There were many sleepless nights back then.
One night I woke up to Callie on her knees next to my bed. Her forehead was resting on the mattress and she was breathing heavily. "Callie, what's wrong?" I was worried but kept my voice low so I wouldn't wake Mariana.
"I think I'm having a panic attack," she choked out.
Quickly, I threw the covers off my body and got out of the bed. I helped her stand up and led her to the bathroom. I locked the door. "Sit down, sit down," I said closing the toilet lid. She rested her elbows on her knees and put her head in her hands.
"I didn't want to wake you up," she said. Her breath was labored. She couldn't sit still like she was uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," she said her voice breaking.
I ran a washcloth under the cold tap and wrung it out. "No, it's okay," I reassured her. I put the cool cloth on the back of her neck. Then I dropped to my knees in front of her. Callie hasn't had a panic attack in quite some time. No matter home many times it happened though, my stomach churned whenever I had to see her like this. She wrapped her arms around herself. "I can't breathe." Broken sobs racked her body.
"I know, I know. Just look at me, you're with me. I'm right here." I gripped on of her hands and held it close to my heart. Her other hand went back and forth against her jeans. A knock on the door made us both gasp. "Ava? What's going on in there?" It was Stef and I had no doubt Lena was right by her side. Shit. The door knob jiggled. "Sweetheart, let us in."
"I can't," I called back. Callie's breaths just got worse. "Callie, please calm down." Tears began forming in my eyes. "I'm not leaving you."
Of course Stef unlocked the door. She was a cop. I should have put a chair in front of the door or something. I was suddenly so angry and Stef and Lena. I blew up at them the night Callie was taken away but I apologized soon after that. I appreciated all the work they did to bring Callie back and everything they've done in the past. But right now they were not needed. They didn't know how to deal with Callie during her panic attacks. I'm the only one. "Go away! She doesn't need an audience!"
The two of them seemed shocked at my reaction. "We just want to help sweetheart," Lena reassured me. It didn't reassure me. "She doesn't need your help! She needs me."
I turned back to Callie and pushed her hair from her clammy forehead. "Shh." I went back to my loving sisterly voice. Callie cried and cried while I patiently said soothing words and rubbed the back of her hand with my thumb. After a while, Lena and Stef left and then soon after that, Callie calmed down and looked dead tired. I helped her back to my bed and climbed under the covers with her. I wrapped my arm around her and snuggled my face in her hair. Once again, Callie got the crap end of the stick.