Lost at Home

Ellie is depressed. The reality of her dying is starting to set in.

I looked at the brown eyed girl in the mirror. Her loose hair dangled to the middle of her back. It glowed in the sunlight from the open window behind. Her features were soft; eyes round like a doe and light flecks dotted her nose. Her lips were thin as well as her body. The black sweater made her skin tone paler and her hair brighter. Her arms and legs were showing signs of thinning, someone not eating. The young girl stared back at me, head tilted. She reached out to touch me, my fingertips touched the cold glass of the mirror. Our hands connected.

“Hey sister.” The door creaked open, Luke’s shaggy head popping in. I looked over at the door, annoyed yet comforting that he came to check on me. It creaked slightly as Luke floated in. He flashed a crooked grin, walking toward the desk in the corner of the room. He pushed off papers with black scribbles and shoved my yellow pencils into the already-too-full drawer. He held a tray of our lunch, the one I didn’t come down to eat. The pasta made my stomach growl, trying to force me to eat. My mouth watered, looking at the plate, but I ignored the pain. I continued to stare at the mirror, slightly annoyed that Luke distracted me. Luke watched from behind my shoulder, observing me as I touched my limbs. She mirrored me following the actions. Luke shook his head, hardly amused by what I do with my free time.

“You know you can’t skip eating forever.” There was a tone in his voice that seemed like he was joking. His mouth always curved upward, challenging you to be the better one. He cautiously tiptoed over, locking his fingers securely around my wrist. I reluctantly allowed him to haul me along, a doll dragged across the floor. Sitting in the chair as he pushed the plate of food over. I grabbed the edge of my desk, knuckles white. I scanned over the pasta, the tomato sauce intriguing me. I shook my head, viciously, hair whipping around my face. Luke sighed, stabbing the pasta and pushing it into my pouting mouth. He pushed the forkful of food into my mouth and I chewed, absentmindedly. Bite after the other, Luke wiped the sauce off my face. He took out the stethoscope from my desk drawer, listening to the beat deep in my chest. He nodded, writing it down on the clipboard. He touched my forehead, his hot skin burning my flesh. I sank under his touch only him to press his hand harder against my face. He sighed, looking at me. His hair flopped over his eyes. I pushed them away, thinking that he need a haircut. I ran my hand through both rough and silky mess, satisfying myself when it flopped back down. He chuckled deeply. He touched my prominent cheekbones, the sharp mountains on my face. He took a deep breath, looking at my collarbone jutting out of the snowy flesh. He ruffled my head, suddenly hugging me. His arms were tight around my shoulders like a seat belt. He smelled liked like fresh laundry with a whiff of fresh, almond butter.

“You’re going to be okay, Ellie.” he said with a hair of fright in his voice. I could feel a lump forming, deep down in my chest. My heart squeezed, my chest felt heavy. I tried swallowed the pain away. He rubbed my shoulder, up and down, a soothing, gentle motion. He looked down at me, wiping the tear that started to spill.

“Will I ever be okay?” I cried softly, helplessly. I looked into his eyes for an answer. His expression was blank.

“You’re gonna be fine. Just stay strong, Ellie. Stay strong.”

He patted my shoulder twice, and then scurrying out of the room. I stared out of the window, remotely. The sun high in the clouds. The grass was turning a shade of yellow; our family’s land was smothered in pink flowers and vibrant leaves, from the dying plants nearby.

    "Stay strong." I whispered.