Under the Influence

Five: Over It

The countertop was cold beneath her hands as she skimmed her fingers across it. Looking down, she wondered how she couldn't really be there. She wondered why surfaces were solid, but people were unreachable. The only things she could feel were the very same things that she could care less about. For the first time in her life she felt very alone, very empty inside, like she was truly gone.

Tearing her distant gaze away from the tile, she looked up at her younger twin brothers, Sam and David, who were currently sitting on the bar stools - not ten feet away from where she stood – enjoying a snack of apples and peanut butter. Ruthie smiled at them for only a brief period of time before her frown came rushing back. Thoughts of how she would never get to see them grow up crowded her mind.

Slowly, she walked to them, longing to reach out and touch their innocent faces. They were so young. How could she have left them so soon? Did they even understand why she was gone, or what had happened? But more importantly, did they miss her?

"Feeling a bit guilty?"

Ruthie didn't even jump at the sudden voice behind her shoulder. She continued to wallow in who she could have been, what kind of role model she could have become, to her brothers.

"Why am I still here?" she asked absently, her voice strangled and strange. "Why is this happening to me?" She turned to Kendall with tears in her eyes.

He smiled. "I told you already: you're in question."

Ruthie sighed and bowed her head as if she was ashamed. "No," she whispered. "Why do I have to be in this house? Why am I being tortured like this?"

Kendall lifted her chin and studied her tear-stained face. "There's really no rhyme or reason to it. You're here because this is the place you are most attached to." Kendall glanced around, quickly scanning the room. "This is where your heart lies."

"I can't see how you can possibly be this calm. You're as dead as I am, and I don't hear you complaining," she stated. "Don't you miss your family?"

He just grinned at her and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "I've been dead for twenty years. I'm over it."

Lucy sat on the wooden bench in the backyard of the Camden house. She couldn't take being cooped up in her stuffy apartment anymore, and she was afraid to even step foot inside her parents' house. Already she knew what was going on behind the closed blinds and sturdy walls. There would be screaming and crying, the air would be heavy with grief and that she couldn't handle either.

She had gone in there one day last week, and since then she hadn't been back. What she witnessed was something she had never seen before, something she wished she hadn't seen. Initially, she'd only gone to see her mother, ask her how she was doing, maybe receive some sort of comfort. She never did see Annie that day.

Lucy climbed the stairs of her childhood home to the second floor in search of her mother, in need of reassurance. She was almost there, could see the door to Annie's bedroom, but was instantly distracted. Screams of defiance and anger filled the hallway. Her brother Simon and her father were in for another round of fighting about a very touchy subject: Ruthie's death.

The woman knew Simon was having a difficult time coping with the tragedy that had hit home hard, was going through it herself, but she had never been so bold as to express those personal feelings out loud giving the world permission to marvel at how weak she was inside. She felt that if she were to fall victim to herself, she would never be able to recover.

She took a few steps away from the landing, not wanting to be in anyone's way, but moved no further than that. Sighing quietly, she allowed herself to fall back against the wall and listened to what was going on.

"Damn it, Simon," her father yelled. "You weren't the only one who loved Ruthie! We all loved and cared deeply for you sister, and it's hard for all of us to get on with our lives!"

"You might try showing it then so the rest of us don't feel like idiots! You and Mom are so happy and normal and it's killing me. It's like you aren't even human," Simon's voice faltered with rage.

"Your mother and I are still grieving for Ruthie, we always will be, but sooner or later, you have to get on with your life! Don't you see that?" Eric paused. "Simon, you aren't the only one who is haunted by Ruthie's death. You aren't the only one to whom Ruthie was important to."

Silence.

Then her father spoke again in a much quieter voice, Lucy had to strain her ears to hear what he was saying. "If you can't possibly comprehend that you are not alone in this, I don't know what to tell you."

The door opened and her father appeared, his eyes instantly locking on her emotionless face. Lucy turned and fled down the stairs, not wanting to give him a chance to round on her. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel better.

Of course, that had been over a week ago and she had talked to her father since then, but nothing they ever conversed about had anything to do with Ruthie. Lucy didn't know if her father – her father who counseled people as a part of his job – was afraid to bring anything up. But if he was willing to forget the expression on her face, then she was more than willing to toss out the feeling that went along with it.

Suddenly the back door opened and Simon stepped outside, looking extremely cross and upset. She watched him descend the porch steps and make his way across the yard. Part of her wanted him to sit with her, wanted to ask him what was the matter, wanted to comfort him like she would have done in the past. But the other half, the colder, darker half, the half that was lost, wanted him to stay far away from her, didn't even want him to acknowledge her.

Obviously, Simon did see her and he did acknowledge her. He said nothing to her, only glanced at her as he swept by. Lucy highly doubted that he would have stopped if she hadn't called him back.

"Come sit with me," she said. "Please?"

Simon studied her and tried to figure if he should stay. He had just gotten out of another verbal battle with his father, and he really didn't feel like sticking around. But it was Lucy, who he never got to see that much, so he took a seat.

"What's going on?" he asked her as he felt his anger slowly begin to subside.

Lucy looked into his eyes and he saw such despair in her soul that matched his own exactly. He, who had had trouble connecting with Lucy before in the past, found that their pain was something they shared. In one look, the tables turned, their roles were switched, and it wasn't Lucy who wanted to comfort her brother. She wanted to be consoled. She wanted to hear someone say that she wasn't insane; she wanted to be held by someone who she trusted with her life.

Tears welled in Lucy's eyes, making them shine bright in the harsh light of day. Without one reservation, Simon drew Lucy close to his chest and allowed her to cry messily on his shoulder.