The Middle Part 1 – Ch 162
My memory flickers and fades from view on that solemn promise. Words borne from a twisted, black thing that grew anytime my purpose, my fate, was kept from me. With a small sigh, I shake off the lingering emptiness and loneliness and turn to face Amelia, both of us back to our adult avatar forms. I turn to look at her with a bit of worry about how she may have perceived that ending bit, but her words tell me she is worried about something completely different.
"I..." She begins with shining tears starting to well in her eyes filled with sorrow, "I don't remember any of that. Mom yelling at us, the kiss... I only vaguely remember them separating us around that time and how awful that felt. Why can't I remember this, but you can?"
At the end of her question, she turns to face me properly as the sparkling tears slip down her cheeks. I softly press my forehead to hers, hands reaching up to cup her face and smudge away the wetness on her face.
"I don't know, baby girl. Could be that when you started having issues a little after this, the stress and trauma ate away at your memories. Or made you repress them. Or... it could be related to the last memory and what happened in that one too. Maybe a mix of all that and more."
She just nods against my head as she holds me tight. A whimper here or there echoing in the void around us before she seems to marshal her thoughts and ask out a different question. "I thought you said you d-didn't know when you felt that kind of love for me..."
I return the gesture before answering back gently, "I didn't, at least not at that time. I was still pretty early on into healing when we talked about it in your old room, still slightly... scattered. And while I didn't know exactly what this memory entailed before we watched it together, I knew it had something to do with when my feelings for you first started. Just not the how, why, and exact when of it, if that makes sense."
A soft, "Okay..." filters back as we continue to hold each other and just... decompress some from the events. Neither of us really on a timetable in this space, and especially not if I actively slow it down too.
"I wonder how much my other memories have been changed, or what else I've forgotten... Like the Christmas memory we met up at. I'd only been here two months give or take, and I already forgot how our parents looked. Honestly, I think I was even remembering dad wrong, at least in his overall appearance."
A frown pulls my lips downward as I lean back some and plant a kiss to her forehead. "It'll be okay, baby girl. I remember nearly everything perfectly from when we were little girls and onward. If you ever feel curious or scared that you may be missing something, just let me know and we can see whatever it is you want to see. Your [Dream Archivist] skill will keep it clear and perfect forever after that."
A hiccupped sob replies back, though brief before she leans her head into my neck and nearly crushes me in the embrace. "T-thank you, Sandra. I love you."
My hands carefully comb along her hair and down her back in easy comfort as I nuzzle my head to hers. "Anytime, my precious, sweet Amelia~. I love you too~."
After another few minutes of composing ourselves, Aims leans back to fix me with determination in her eyes. "O-okay. I'm ready for the next one if you are."
"Are you sure? We can wait a little longer if you want." I say back lovingly as I cup her face again. She leans into the touch while still nodding her head into silent affirmation.
"Okay then." My smiling voice replies. "Just... be warned. While I still don't know exactly what's in these last two per se, I know they are going to be progressively more intense than that first one."
"It doesn't matter." Aims says back defiantly, prismatic fire seeming to burn in her avatar's eyes, "Whatever it is, we will face it together. Nothing will ever shake my love for you."
Some kind of... unrealized tension melts off of me at her stoic words that leave no room for argument. A certainty proclaimed, and a worry squashed as I press our foreheads together one more time.
"Thank you, baby girl. Here we go then~."
And, like before, blackness envelops our vision.
I wake up to sobs coming from a cross the hall. Something that has been more and more of a daily occurrence, especially at this time of night. I don't know exactly when, but Amelia suddenly started having panic attacks. Small, at first, but quickly they started impacting not just her usual routine, but school and social life as well.
A little ball of spitfire energy dulling and graying until now only a timid husk remains. A truth that shatters my heart, wanting nothing more than to coil around her and give her comfort and strength. Something I would do in a heartbeat if it were not for the cautious and judgmental eyes of our parents. Eyes that never looked at me the same way after that amazing, wonderful, and tragic explosion of prismatic fire.
They still hold love in their gaze for me, at least any time Amelia isn't present. Then, its all guard and hawk. Ruffled feathers of tense muscles waiting to interdict any kind of sign of what came before. I don't know if dad ever told mom the truth, but it seems my foolish admission made both of them wary in the end. One never letting go of what happened, and the other knowing not to after learning the truth.
But, I don't care. I'd rather them look at me with those callous eyes than hear my sister sobbing into her pillow for another moment longer.
I stand up, the baggy t-shirt and flannel pants I use for pj's ruffling slightly as the covers fall away. Footfalls silent on carpeted floor as I ease the door to my room open, and then her rooms as well.
Shutting it closed softly, I traipse over the discarded clothes and strewn books in the darkness until I fumblingly find her bed. The sniffling form of Amelia jumping as I settle my weight on her mattress.
"S-Sandra?" She hiccups slightly too loud for stealth making me give a shushing sound before she continues more quietly, "W-what are *hic* you doing?"
"I just wanted to help you sleep, baby girl. It's okay, just rest your head on me. I'm right here. I'll always be by your side." I gently whisper as I lower her head to my neck, leaning us both back to the pillows below.
She hesitates only for a moment before the soft sobs come back. Wordlessly pressing her face into me while her arms wrap me tight. I stroke her hair as she begins to fade to slumber, making sure to keep all of my face safely away from hers as my eyes lance over toward the door which has now been creaked open. Two pairs of eyes watching from the darkened hallway that I only glare at before ignoring them entirely.
A scene that repeats and repeats, only to be returned to our more detached relationship as soon as the sun rises. A horrid shifting of scales driven by the judgmental vision of those meant to love us both unconditionally.
They try to get me to stop a few times, to leave my sister in that awful state without the love and comfort she obviously so desperately needs. And each time, my answer is the same. "If you want me to stop, then go to a doctor that will actually help her. Otherwise, I'll be making sure she doesn't fall apart completely. Like family should."
The guilt keeps them silent, but I don't give a shit about how they feel at this point. Our family too broken from the small cuts over time, from too many shifting accusations hidden behind their eyes. At least, I ponder, Aims hasn't been exposed to that yet. The love for her genuine and heartfelt from both of our parents, even if they handle her condition with kid gloves instead of support. The stigma of mental health alive and well in this older generation, regardless of if its their own daughter it seems.
And, even though it hurts beyond words to hold her close. To smell the scent of her hair. To feel her warmth on my skin. I, despite everything in my soul telling me not to, always keep it familial. Chaste. The black twisting not of denial seeping deeper into me every time we part ways come the morning.
It gets to the point where it... begins to be too much. My love - real love - for Amelia nearly growing too large for my grasp and control. The dark whispers slinking into my ears in the quiet moments where my mind rambles on for too long.
Proven by how I nearly drove my fist into Jessica's face when she broke up with Aims right before graduation. Fingernails drawing blood in my palms as I clench my fists in anger while I listened to her explanation. "I love her, maybe not more than you Sandra, but I do. But I can't pass up this chance to go to MIT, I've worked so hard for this... And I know you will hate me for saying this, but I don't think Amelia can actually survive a long distance relationship like that. So I just wanted to end it before either of us got hurt."
Bitch. Cunt. WHORE.
My heart fills with blackness, cold and gripping. Suffusing my mind and body alike. The little dining table we're sitting at after I called her out to explain herself, to explain to my face why she broke my sister's heart and left her weeping on the sidewalk as she drove away, makes a thundering *BANG* as my fist slams against it. Her wide eyes and trembling form cowering in the 50's style bench seat as condiments go toppling over and I lean forward to snarl back my response.
"If you ever. EVER. Talk to my sister again after this, I will find you and make you regret ever being fucking born you piece of shit. How fucking dare you do this to her." People begin to look towards us given the lunch hour rush, but I don't care. I stand and sling my purse over my arm, leaning back down from the entry of her bench now.
"If I see you again, you'll never make it to MIT, you absolutely disgusting bitch. I have no idea what my sister saw in such a callous waste of a human like you." I whisper the threat down to her. Frustration, anger, and hate evident on my face as I ignore the gawking on lookers and leave the shitty little diner.
White knuckled hands grip the steering wheel as I maneuver back home, somehow still in one piece. Unbridled fury at someone so casually throwing away the one thing in life I long for with all my heart. Trampling the hopes and dreams of a sweet, broken woman who used to be whole just because the grass was greener. Not even attempting the effort of building their love - a love that gouged my eyes to see but made Aims happy regardless - because it would have been too hard for her.
Worthless. I should have just cut her brake lines the moment she started talking to Amelia. Spared both of us the trouble...
Graduation has long passed, and a coughing fit coincides with my burning lungs. Thick, musty smoke rippling from my throat as it adds to the haze of the dimly lit and messily furnished dingy studio apartment. The tingling, numbing mental mist that begins to bubble forth and coax my mind and body into a placid relaxation. Even if the bean bag I'm sitting on isn't all its cracked up to be.
I set the large glass tube with a little bowl pipe sticking out its side down on the table, the gross water inside sloshing ever so slightly. An increasingly difficult task considering all the strewn about beer bottles and red plastic cups, but I succeed, nonetheless.
On the couch to my left, Amy is sprawled out and snoring in just a pair of shorts. Which isn't too surprising considering she's been knocking back drinks and taking rips for at least the past four hours. In the ratty armchair across from me, Chris doesn't look too far behind her. His red eyes nearly visible through the smokey ambiance, lolling in tune with his head of shaggy black hair as he struggles to stay awake in a Tool branded T-shirt and jeans.
Well, guess no sex for me tonight then. Bunch of lightweights.
Oh well, not like it's the first time we've all partied too hard and then been worthless. Even if it is disappointing. I'm just glad I finally talked them out of doing harder stuff in front of me after trying it once with them. Was it stupid? Of course. But... I was desperate to feel anything even remotely close to the high of my life all those years ago. The one that haunts me and fills me with so much love and hope all at the same time.
A secret that I've kept for over ten years now. A weight that only grows and grows on my shoulders with each passing day. With each fragile smile on the one I love that points in my direction. With each whimpering cry as she has another panic attack. Every fiber of my being screaming out to whisk her away, take all of that pain out of her, and then beat it to death so that it never makes those precious, beautiful eyes shimmer in sadness ever again.
The heavy sigh that cools off the heated emotions forces me back into the giving cushion of the shitty excuse of a chair. Even high out of my mind, she's always all I can think about. Drunk, dreaming, during sex. A beautiful specter that plagues every moment of my life. Something I love and hate in equal measure.
Thank God I haven't accidentally shouted out her name while Amy was eating me out, or while Chris was having his fun either with his hands or dick. Don't know if I could brush something that damning away... Sure, we've been doing this little throuple business for about a couple months now, all of us in the same graduating class, but I don't think they'd ever look at me the same. Like my parents. To say nothing of if they may talk shit to Aims about it later.
The last vestiges of summer bakes the side of our shared room, the window AC unit struggling to keep the space somewhat comfortable in the humid Oklahoma heat. Even despite thick, black curtains that shroud us from the outside world and the angry rays of that setting little ball of fire in the sky.
The three of us rented out this little gem just to collectively get away from our parents as quickly as possible. Well... and so I could get some space from Aims. As soon as we turned 18, those... feelings and thoughts just got stronger. I knew I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt her, but it was torture to just be around her. Plain and simple. And the justified - to me - threats towards that bitch Jessica is only one aspect of that truth.
Knowing that if we were anyone else, if it weren't for the blood we share, not a single thing could have been done to stop us - me - from acting on those urges that feel so right. To flirt, and kiss, and lay together after sweaty, passionate sex. To cup her face in my hands and wipe away all those tears. Not just because I love her, but because she is my everything. To treat her how she deserves to be treated. To be complete, finally...
I groan as I rub my dry, itchy eyes. The slightly dirty white tank top rustling against my bare breasts as I finally - and slowly - stand up out of the cursed chair. Why they ever made these things is beyond me, but Chris said it "fit the vibe" of the apartment. The stoner.
Making my way around the worn-out couch holding the sleeping brunette - with an amazing and exposed rack~ - I shuffle over towards the small bathroom and close the door behind me, creaking hinges and all. My hand adjusts the sink until lukewarm water starts spitting out unevenly, the countertop coated in makeup products, a hair dryer, a straightening iron, and an electric razor. The one Amy always bitches at Chris for to put away after he's done, not seeing the irony of the situation~.
Sure, it's annoying to see beard hairs - or whatever else hairs - on the counter, but we legit take up 3/4 of the space with all our crap. Poor guy only has a little corner for his toothbrush and toothpaste. But, its funny to hear them fight, so I never poke my nose in it~.
I take a mostly clean washcloth and wet it under the protesting faucet, then bring it up to my face to dab away some of the sticky sweat scented in clinging smoke. My own inflamed red eyes staring back at me as I just... take in what I see.
A failure, as a partner and sister. A hopeless drunkard and druggie trying to do anything to feel truly alive again. A sex addict chasing those brief highs for the same reason. Someone who is broken, and twisted, and always desperate to feel that prismatic wholeness. Doing any and everything to get even a glimpse of it again, to feel its radiant fire burning in my chest and through my mind. A person full of wasted potential and sick thoughts on top of being a coward.
With a few shed tears, I toss the washcloth to the counter and turn on the shower.
The months go by, the cooler crisp air of fall finally pushing away the summer heat as I stroll leisurely across the university campus. A frilly white blouse and acid washed jeans the perfect match for the season while I make my way to class with coffee in hand.
Amy and Chris are long gone by now. Turns out I did end up accidentally spilling the beans during sex, and... well. It was a miracle I could convince them to keep their mouths shut and just move along from me. Thankfully, I was making enough money to afford that shitty little apartment on my own anyway, and mom and dad already paid my and Aims' tuition this year. Something they're beyond proud of. Both for being able to pay for it, and that we're going to college at all.
Would be the first in our family to do so, both of them said. I'm not usually one for liking ambitions put upon me, but I can't deny that the help is appreciated. Even if it feels tainted coming from them. And even if I'm still working 8-hour shifts after classes. Yeah, no. This sucks.
A familiar laugh perks up my ears. One that I haven't heard in quite some time, for multiple reasons aside from me striking it out on my own. One that makes my heart flutter and flip as my head whips towards its direction.
There, on a bench under a massive oak, is Amelia. Just seeing her enough to send those troublesome prismatic sparks arcing along my veins. I take a step towards her before I realize she's sitting next to someone. My eyes that were once full of light darkening as Mary Elizabeth sits next to Amelia.