Chapter 5
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"On the way down, I saw you
And you saved me from myself
And I won't forget the way you love me
On the way down I almost fell right through
But I held on to you."
Ryan Cabrera
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Dad, come on!"
Abby trotted beside her father, matching his crisp pace as he walked down the hall to the door. The day was a Friday, around six AM, much earlier then Abby usually got up, but she had woken up to catch her dad before he went to work.
"Abby, no. It's a Friday. You have school…"
"We never do anything on Fridays anyway! Dad, please! I'm beggin' ya here!"
Her father turned to her. "Abby, you don't understand. Cree… she isn't the way you remember. She…"
"She cut her legs and slit her wrists, and she's been seeing a psychologist," Abby said, reciting what she had read from her sister's hospital files. "Dad, I know that. But I wanna see Cree! I wanna know for sure that she's okay! I was the one who found 'er, remember?"
Dr. Lincoln gave his youngest daughter a pained look. He had come in, being the first to hear Abby's screams. It was a sight he would never forget: Cree, lying on her bed, motionless except for the dark pool of blood seeping from her wrists, and Abby, having somehow made her legs run to the bed, crouched over her sister, sobbing, shaking her shoulder, begging her to wake up, although she was smart enough to know that Cree wouldn't rise that night. He sighed.
"Dad," Abby whispered pleadingly.
He shook his head wearily, then turned to his wife. "Can you call Abby's school and let them know she won't be coming in today?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Cree paused for a moment, chewing at the end of her pen, studying the open diary in her lap. She had woken up some time around four or five, and had been up for the past few hours, unable to go back to sleep. She glanced up at the clock; it read about ten, she mused. She glanced back down at the diary.
She had been busily writing for the past few hours, not entries exactly, but just poems and short stories. It had been something she had started recently, a way of fighting off depression whenever it reared its ugly head, and so far it was working rather well. She had written a poem about Maurice, about her father, about Chad, about clouds and flowers, about Father, and currently was trying to puzzle out what to write for Hoagie and Tommy. They had sent a card not to long ago, simply reading, Get well soon, we miss you, this new baby-sitter STINKS!. Hoagie wasn't so hard—whenever she saw him with his goggles, she imagined flying—but Tommy was a different story.
"Cree? You busy, sweetie?"
Cree looked up, smiling a little when she saw her father gazing into the room. She closed her diary, resting it on the desk. "Not really, Dad." She stretched, yawning. "Just couldn't sleep, so I've been writing for a few hours," she admitted.
"I noticed."
Cree stuck her tongue at him.
He cleared his throat. "Well, the truth is, Cree… well… you have a visitor."
Cree raised a brow. It was at least ten in the morning; school, she knew, was in session, even if she was still confined to her hospital room and being home schooled.
Dr. Lincoln noticed her look, and smiled. "I know, I know, you're probably wondering who wants to see you this early. But she was pretty insistent." At that, he stepped back, and Cree could finally see her mystery visitor.
"Hey, sis."
Cree's eyes widened, and her heart flew into her throat at the sight of Abby, her hat pulled back so Cree could clearly see her eyes. Their father had moved farther down the hall, so they could be alone. Cree swallowed hard. "Hey, Abby," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly.
She had been told by her father—had known—that Abby was the first to find her after she had slashed her wrists, and she had worried about her constantly. But now, seeing her, Cree realized she didn't know what to say. How could she explain to Abby what had been whirling through her mind that night? How could she explain that at that time she had wanted to die, even knowing she would hurt her family and leave her little sister behind to recover?
Cree looked at her hands, laughing nervously, sadly. "I guess I'm not the hero you thought I was, sis." She looked up, meeting Abby's gaze evenly. "I hurt you real bad. I'm sorry. I wish—I want—to explain to you why I did it… but I can't." Cree laughed again, fighting the urge to collapse into sobs. "I wish I could, but I can't."
A long silence followed this statement, as Abby seemed to consider this; Cree waited, anxiety gnawing at her belly.
The next instant, with a sob, Abby launched herself into Cree's arms, practically knocking the older girl back, burying her face in Cree's shoulder, sobbing. Cree stiffened in shock, then slowly relaxed, gently rocking her sister.
"I… I thought you were dead," Abby whimpered. "I thought you died.
"I'm here, Abby. I'm alive, see? I'm alive," Cree whispered soothingly. "I'm not going anywhere." She sighed softly.
"I'm not going anywhere for a long time."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Awwwww... sisterly love... (Kicks self for Abby's OOCness)
