I set the comb down on a table next to Vanessa's hospital bed, and move back to my chair. She smiles her beautiful smile at me. "Thanks, Julia." She says hoarsely. Vanessa's voice has been weak all day today- more so than usual.
My sister has been sick since forever, but in the past few years it's gotten a lot worse. Only in the beginning of this year was she moved into a hospital. Years ago, when I was only three, the doctors diagnosed her with something called a "terminal illness", whatever that means. It's not contagious, and Vanessa promises me she'll get better soon, so I have nothing to worry about. Right?
"Hey, Jules?" With just that, my older sister has my undivided attention. She's smiling, her blue eyes seeming both cheerful and yet tired at the same time. "Would you sing for me?" She asks. Vanessa says I have a beautiful singing voice, and asks me to do this a lot. It's silly, but my sister is kind, and I love her more than anything in the whole wide world. So I grin at her and start to sing.
It's a song Vanessa loves, and soon she joins in, her shaky voice harmonising with mine perfectly. We sing together in peace for a few minutes, and then Vanessa coughs, hard. For once she doesn't get a chance to cover her mouth, and a glob of blood shoots out, staining her bed sheets. Vanessa keeps coughing, her handkerchief now clamped firmly over her mouth. I falter in my singing. This isn't the first time this has happened, but the sight of her blood has shaken me. Something's different about this attack. Her coughs are harder, deeper, and they don't die down.
I stop singing and rose to my feet, meaning to go get a doctor, but Vanessa gives a wave of her free hand. "No- I'm fine- continue." She says between coughs, and so I sink back into my seat and keep singing, rubbing her arm comfortingly. I feel a tingling heat between my eyes, and resist the urge to cry.
I'm not sure how long Vanessa continues to cough, but it feels like forever. Her whole body shakes with the force of her coughs and she barely gets the chance to take breaths. I feel a pang of worry for my sister. Then, all of a sudden, her coughs stop. Her arm falls to her side. The handkerchief slips out of her hand and lands on the floor with a splat, now entirely soaked through with blood.
My singing comes to a halt. "Vanny?" I ask. I'm surprised at how small and fragile my voice sounds. Vanessa doesn't respond, and my heart misses a beat. "Vanny?" I repeat, and move to look her in the eye. Vanessa's eyes are open, but they're glassy, fogged over. Lifeless. "Vanny?! VANNY!" I scream, as the truth hits me with a cold, brutal sense of reality. I sling my arms around Vanessa's neck and sob, holding onto my sister's corpse for dear life. "Vanny, NO!" I cry.
That's when the doctors come rushing in. One grabs me by my shoulders gently and starts to pull me away from Vanessa. "No, NO, that's my sister!" I scream, struggling against his firm grip. "That's my sister!" I bite his hand and he lets out a yelp of pain, releasing me. I hug Vanessa again, my body shaking with tears. Two more men grab me, rough now, and drag me out of the room.
My sister is dead.
This is so unfair! I'm seven- she's only 12! People aren't supposed to die until they're old! She didn't get to do anything- she's been bedridden for the past two years. It's not fair to her. How could this happen?
The doctors take me to an office. I collapse at a table, resting my head in my arms as I cry. A nurse approaches me and tries to offer me comfort. I visit often, so it's not hard for her to recognise me. "Don't cry, Miss Julia." She says, offering me a tissue. "Vanessa's in a better place now."
"She's in no place!" I yell, angered by her words. "She's dead! She's dead, and it's all your fault! Can't you stupid doctors do anything?!"
The nurse doesn't say anything. She just hugs me tightly. "Oh, poor baby. I'm so sorry." She whispers.
Eventually, of course, I do manage to stop crying. The nurse keeps me company for the next five painful hours, until finally my parents arrive. For once they have been called and asked to pick me up- usually I just sneak out and walk home alone. "Come along, Julia. It's time to go home." My mother says. Her voice is clipped and formal, as though she's speaking to a stranger, rather than her own daughter. I rise to my feet and cast the nurse a final look and wave goodbye.
On the ride home, my mother and father discuss Vanessa's funeral as if it's nothing- as if it's normal for your twelve year old daughter to die. As if it's ok not to care. It's so horribly wrong. Why don't they care?! I think angrily, sitting in the backseat and staring out the window.
That's when I realise that it's up to me to bring Vanessa back. And I know just how to do it, too.