Chapter Eight: Two Unexpected Visitors

Meg was depressed.

For the last two weeks, her mind had been in a fog since she'd been drugged up on pain medication and antibiotics. During the hours she was actually conscious, the girl was sluggish and irritable since she couldn't process anything like an intelligent human being. She'd received a few visits from unfamiliar people at varying times, but nobody she really knew had come to visit her, so she'd simply ignored everyone for the most part.

After all, her voice still wouldn't work and she still couldn't move her legs.

Her back, for the most part, was on its way to recovery... but she already knew deep down that she would never walk again since her parents didn't love her enough to spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on rehabilitation.

They hadn't stopped by to see her once since the bomb had been dropped, but she'd been so drugged up that she hadn't even realized it until that very morning. She'd actually woken up feeling completely lucid for the first time in a while, and was mulling over everything that had happened. She turned her head and looked at the open hospital room window, staring at the clouds, wishing she could just fly away and disappear forever.

Lifting her arms, she gripped the edges of the bed and struggled, attempting to push herself into an upright sitting position. Her back screamed for a few moments, but she didn't care: she tugged until she was fully upright, then gently set her hands in her lap and looked out the window. It was early morning... and the breeze felt good, but reality was bleak. Even though the sun was shining, her world had turned grey, and she knew deep down inside that nothing would ever be right.

Her hair drifted around her cheeks in the gentle wind, and she closed her eyes, basking in the sensation.

She could almost imagine she wasn't in the hospital, paralyzed... but...

No, she couldn't.

That was a lie.

She could already feel her eyes watering.

Meg had definitely felt sorry for herself a few times over the years, but at this moment—all alone and surrounded by nothing but stale air and machinery—she couldn't help herself. Her small hands shook uncontrollably, so she dug her fingernails into her palms, attempting to abate her sorrow with pain. She looked around at the small, sterile white room, which grew smaller and blander with each passing moment.

The incessant bleating of the electrocardiograph machine pierced through the stark atmosphere of the room and reverberated sharply and hollowly.

Her chance at escaping was over.

Her ability to speak and walk were both gone forever, with no way of ever getting them back.

Every time that wave of reality smashed into her and brought with it the awful sense of clarity she got while thinking about her life, her heart burned with agony. It was an ache so deep and terrible that no amount of tears could ever express it. Her parents had destroyed her. From the moment she'd been born, through all the years she'd lived with them, they'd destroyed every single part of her.

First, her dreams.

Then, her heart.

Then, her mind.

Then, her future.

And now, even her ability to walk.

Nobody could tell her it would ever be okay... because it wasn't, and never would be.

Meg kept her eyes shut tight so the she wouldn't have to look at anything anymore.

She locked herself away from the pain in the hole she called a heart, separating herself from it, so she wouldn't feel anymore... but before she could completely detach herself, the door to the hospital room suddenly opened without warning and someone walked inside. Meg opened her eyes and slowly turned, dazed, to find herself staring straight at... Michael Pulaski?

She blinked, then squinted slightly, figuring she was mistaken.

She could barely see without her glasses.

"I'll be in the reception area," a feminine voice murmured from the hall. "If you need something, just let me know."

"Will do," Mike's familiar voice muttered, making her blink again. "Leave us alone, please."

"All right," the feminine voice sighed. "Enjoy your visit with your sister."

Meg did a double take when Mike Pulaski shut the door and turned to look at her... but then, for whatever reason, his face tensed and his eyes widened.

A warm breeze rustled her hair as she gazed in his direction, trying to figure out why he was here... what he wanted. She was broken now, so she figured it was probably because he wanted to gloat about how she couldn't uphold the bet.

That had to have been it.

He'd come to tell her the bet was off.

For several moments, they merely looked at each other, but then he tilted his head back with a smirk.

"So, Beanie Girl..." he muttered, folding his arms with a cocky expression. "I guess you really won't be staying at school, huh?"

Yep.

Meg blinked again, then let out a soundless sigh and leaned back against the pillows, turning her head away from him. Heart stagnant, unfluttering, she gazed in the direction of the sky, feeling trapped in so many ways. Not being able to speak... to express herself... to communicate... she felt like a bird in a cage.

But the cage was her own body.

It was like being stuck in a nightmare and finding herself unable to scream or cry for help.

She heard Michael sit down, but didn't turn.

"So..." he muttered. "Is it true... that you can't talk?"

Meg turned, then, to see him staring at her with that deadpan scowl of his.

She swallowed and nodded, giving him a halfhearted smile that made his eyes darken a little. He didn't say anything for a time, just sat back and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Meg honestly didn't get why he'd come to visit her... after all, aside from the one conversation they'd had on the rooftop, they'd never been even close to friendly, and he'd already gloated about her new handicap, so it didn't make sense.

In the end, though, she gave up since she no longer had the will to care.

Nothing mattered anymore.

She was just about to close her eyes when Mike pulled a notepad out of his pocket along with a pen, then held it out to her. Confused, Meg stared at them blankly, but when he wagged them in her face impatiently, she reached out and took them, casting him a slightly perplexed and hesitant glance.

"Use those to talk," he explained, giving her a glare. "Not being able to chat would be pointless."

Meg glanced down at the pad, then flicked it open and scrawled a response.

When she held it up, he leaned forward, staring at her handwriting.

'Why are you here?'

His face was an expressionless slate for a second, but then he pulled back and folded his arms.

"Several reasons," he sneered, taking on a comfortable slouch as he regarded her through those fierce amber eyes. "For one thing, you owe me a cigarette once you get out of here... and I also wanted to see if you were going to duck out on our bet."

Meg's heart deadened.

Shifting her gaze, she wrote something down with a trembling hand, then held the pad up.

'I'm paralyzed from the waist down, and I can't talk anymore. Even if I do graduate from high school and get away from Quahog now, I'm half broken. I barely had a shot of making it on my own even when I still had movement in my legs. Now, there's no way. There's no point. I'm trapped here.'

Mike didn't seem fazed after reading what she'd written, but when he looked up from the pad and saw the tears that had brimmed in her eyes spilling over, his face took on a genuine look of discomfort. Meg didn't blame him, though... because even though she was crying now, she was still forcing a smile. She had to smile, because if she didn't, she would break down and cry in front of him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Not in front of a bully.

Not in front of anyone.

"What about rehabilitation?" he demanded lowly, folding his arms. "Aren't you going to be doing that?"

She shook her head, then shakily wrote her response.

His eyes skimmed across the writing when she held the pad up.

'My parents won't pay for it.'

"Are you kidding?" Mike barked, standing up with an outraged stare. "That's bogus! Why won't they?!"

Meg kept smiling, mouth quivering and tears streaming down her pale cheeks even as she lowered her head and wrote something down.

He watched as she wrote the words that had haunted her every single day of her life.

Then, she held it up with shaking hands.

'I was a mistake."

He stared at the writing with a blank expression, balled hands unraveling.

"What is that even supposed mean?" Mike growled, giving her a very angry and perplexed expression. "I don't get it."

And Meg knew he never would, and never could, but she held the smile and rubbed her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat.

She didn't bother responding to his question and turned her eyes away when he slowly sat back down.

"So, do you have an idea about when you're getting out?" he asked, folding his arms again. "Any news?"

Meg blinked, then scrawled down a response.

'I heard the nurse say that I can leave in just a few more days, but I'm going to be in a wheelchair."

His eyes flickered with some unknown emotion when she lowered the pad.

"Well, make sure you're in school," he growled. "You and I had a deal... if you can make it two months, I'll be your bodyguard. The bet is still on."

Meg felt a bit shocked and confused when got up and stalked over to the door, throwing it open. He was just about to walk out into the hall when suddenly, he paused, hand on the frame. His head turned to the side slightly, and his shoulders tensed, and she faintly made out the sight of his proud hooked nose.

"By the way... you have beautiful handwriting."

She jerked, staring at him in startled shock with her mouth open, but rather than say anything else he walked out.

She kept her eyes trained on his broad shoulders until the door closed and he disappeared.

Then the door shut, and she was alone again.

She wondered about his compliment on her handwriting, since it was an odd thing for anyone to really notice, but then again, this entire situation as a whole was completely out of the ordinary, so maybe she was just overthinking it. She was just about to relax again and put it out of her head when the door suddenly opened again. She nearly jumped out of her skin and turned, trying to see who it was, but the arrival hadn't made it to the door yet.

"Well, she's in here," a familiar female voice explained. "What a lucky girl, to have such caring brothers."

"I'm supposed to be in school right now, but I snuck out to see Meg. Please don't tell anyone."

Meg winced at the sound of Christopher's voice and turned to face the window once again

"I understand," the woman she assumed was a nurse murmured. "It must be difficult. Just press the red buzzer if you need anything."

Meg refused to move when her real brother walked in.

She didn't want to see his platinum blonde hair, falling out from beneath his favorite baseball cap, or his blue shirt and jeans, his large frame... after all, Chris was still as hateful as ever, constantly trying to diminish her and make her fade away from their family.

She was the only one without talent.

If he saw that she'd been crying, she'd never hear the end of the teasing, since he'd tell their parents.

He hesitantly made his way over to the chair, obviously not wanting to make too much noise or startle her by accident, and in his hands was a blanket.

"Hey, M-Meg? Are… you okay…?" Chris asked, speaking so softly that his slur was barely audible; she didn't even twitch, just continued staring out the window. "M-Meg? It's okay if you don't wanna talk… you're probably tired, so I understand. I figured I would bring you some soda and a blanket, though. It's kinda cold in here…"

As if to contradict his words, the clouds outside parted and a warm breeze wafted into the room.

She wanted to keep staring at the clouds and fully ignore him, but as if a higher power were sending her some kind of message, they suddenly parted and the setting sun nearly blinded her. She winced, squinting, and then slowly turned her head with a sigh, looking at him head on with her features both aglow and cast in shadow. Her brother watched as she flipped open the pad and tiredly scrawled something across the front.

He leaned forward, squinting as she held it up.

"'Thank you, Chris,'" he read aloud, blinking rapidly. "Er, you're welcome."

When he hesitantly handed her the blanket and the large bottle of Pepsi, she couldn't help but notice the odd unhappiness in his eyes. Meg feigned a small smile, trying her best to put his mind at rest, but her sibling easily saw through the ruse and merely walked over to the side of the bed and stared down at her. A noticeable silence descended between them. Of the people in her family, Chris was the only one who'd ever truly noticed when she was in her worst moods.

Even though he teased and harassed her like their parents did, he often asked her for advice... and she, occasionally, gave it to him.

Out of all the people in her house, she was probably closer to him than anyone else since he was actually the kindest out of all the hateful.

Still... being the kindest of them didn't really change the fact that he was still hateful.

That's why she had to know.

Looking down, she scrawled her question down in the pad and held it up.

'Why are you here?'

"Because you're my sister," he said, looking confused. "I was scared when you got hit by the car."

She did a double take, then stared at him in disbelief before furiously scribbling down a response.

'Why would you be scared? You hate me just like Mom and Dad!'

"I don't hate you!" Chris exclaimed, blinking rapidly in shock. "You're my sister!"

Meg's eyes burned and she felt her temper flash, dark and hot; clenching her jaw, she wrote down a response and held it up.

'I'm also a daughter, Chris. Our parents genuinely hate me, and you bully me the same way they do. Explain that."

"But Dad said a long time ago teasing you was the best way to show you I love you!" Chris explained, looking very, very confused. "When I was really little, you suddenly stopped playing with me for a long time, so I asked him and he said it would make you happy again if I teased you! And Mom said you'd be even happier if I did better than you at things. She said it was because you loved me."

Meg blinked, not wanting to believe it, but she knew from personal experience that her brother's autism made him extremely gullible. Particularly when he'd been younger... with movies, he'd thought they were real. In school, he'd eaten up every single word his friends had told him, and as a result, had believed in a lot of things that weren't even real. Many would have called him slow... and in a way, he was: interacting with other people wasn't his strong point.

He was simple-minded.

Meg slowly scribbled a response and held it up, giving him a hard look.

'Do you remember what your very first words were?'

He looked confused.

"No, why would I?" he asked, shrugging. "I was a baby... I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast. I only remember that because we still tease you to this day and mom keeps hounding me to do better. That's why."

Meg nodded, then lowered her eyes before writing down a lengthy reply.

'Everyone got what they wanted in the end. I can't talk anymore. Please just go away... you don't know anything about me, or even why our parents act the way they do, and yet instead of asking me, personally, how to make me happy... you based all of your actions towards me on what our idiot father said to you all those years ago.'

He read the reply, but then his face screwed up.

"Fine!" he shouted, clenching his fists. "See if I care!"

Without another word, he burst into tears and ran out of the room... but even though Meg felt a twinge of guilt, she didn't have much room in her heart to care about anything anymore. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up again.