"Ethan wants to go camping, don't you want to go?"
"I don't have a tent"
“You can sleep with your brother”
"I have a lot of homework. I'll take care of the house..."
"We made good money from the harvest this year, how about we all go to the beach?"
“Better save up just in case”
“We have saved up, it's extra money”
"I don't like the beach. The sea is scary"
"You've never been to the beach"
"I have to rearrange things in my room. Take care"
"Seina! Would you like to come with me today to look after the animals?"
"I can't, sorry, I have to work today"
"Uh... what time do you get off?
"I don't know, sorry, see you later"
"Yes... bye"
"Hey there, little sis, do you want me to make you something to eat like when you were a kid?"
"I already ate, thanks"
"Oh, I could make something for later-"
"I made extra, so I'll eat that, thanks"
"O-oh, okay"
I feel like I've been distant lately, even rude. But I don't feel like doing anything.
It's true what my grandmother used to say, quoting one of her favorite odd phrases, when it rains, it pours.
Liam died.
The same day as my 17th birthday.
Several factors came together, a misdiagnosis by an overconfident doctor, dangerously insensitive to the pain of others, especially for someone in his profession.
Poorly trained nurses who follow orders without proper judgment, as is unfortunately the norm. In addition to the fact that the person in charge of that department was absent due to maternity leave, and did not consider it necessary to assign people with common sense to check on the 'recovering' patients.
An outbreak of influenza that filled the hospital to capacity, which I caught as well, going in every day, even after I couldn't get past the reception desk in the diagnostic area. I was considered problematic and banned.
Not that I really blame the security for that, I was an unbearable nuisance, but my only regret is that I did not scream louder, how can they be so careless? I understand trusting an old man more than a teenage girl, but you only had to look at him to see that not only was he not getting better, he was dying.
Poor hospital hygiene and minimal sanitation didn't help.
But there's no point in thinking about that now...
At least I got to see him awake one last time, although I'll never forget the horrible sight of him not even having the strength to writhe in pain... But he still smiled at me and almost inaudibly, even to me, thanked me for coming to visit him. It was nice to have one last moment of him being as strong as ever...
Until I blew it and started yelling at everyone to check him out for once, with all the bad words I know myself, and got kicked out.
Finally, he left... The hospital desperately needed stretchers, I'll give them that, so they went through protocols where the sun doesn't shine and 'kindly' asked his family to take him away, not knowing what was hurting him until the very end. Yet, I know, infection due to peritonitis and the lousy conditions of that crappy hospital, maybe overdose of sedatives, wrong prescriptions, inadequate consent...
Could I have done better? I don't know anything about medicine... I think. But surely, I could have convinced him that he was being treated badly and made him ask to go to another hospital, he can do that, can't he? I don't know the laws about that... Although I guess his parents are the only ones who can decide that, and their impression of me must be on the ground by now.
"My girl..."
Mom interrupts my thoughts... since when is she there? What does she want now? I know they want to help me, but now I just want them to leave me alone, and I feel bad every time I reject them, but that they keep insisting makes me angry, which makes me reject them even harder, which makes me feel even worse... Leave me alone at least for one day!
"..."
She falls silent after calling me, just sitting there, staring at me from the foot of my bed where I'm lying. I'm not being lazy, I've done all my homework and housework, so I can do whatever I want, or rather, I can do nothing in my free time.
"I don't feel like going anywhere, if that's what you want to ask me, Mom"
"I know, it's not just that..."
“If it's about William again, I already told you I understand, no one wanted him to die, no one is to blame, I know”
She flinches a little when I say he died, was she expecting that I wouldn't want to bring up the subject at all? Hmm...
"Kairi was looking for you"
"Mmm," I don't have the energy to answer properly, the previous sentence cost me all the willpower I had.
"Aren't you going to look for her?"
I shake my head. I'll meet her later.
She doesn't say anything and just sits there, not that I mind.
I wonder why I feel this way... of course I'm angry. Angry and very frustrated and sad and... and... At the hospital, at the crappy doctor, at his parents, at mine, at myself... but it feels superficial.
Deep down it doesn't really affect me that much, like the fact that he was alive was the weird thing... even though it doesn't make sense.
It's not that I'm bitter, it's just that... I feel dull, apathetic, indifferent, however you call it, no energy for anything, if I didn't need to eat, I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life without moving a single muscle, I keep thinking. Why do all this stuff? It's not important. A very specific feeling, hard to explain.
I know he died, I know I will never see him again, never talk to him, never see him smile, he will never hug me again, never... nothing. I couldn't even go to his funeral because I was sick, not that I would have gone, I don't want to see him in a coffin.
I know it's a tradition to accompany the dead at his funeral, but it seems to me the stupidest tradition that exists, if you cared so much you should have been with him while he was alive, what's the point of being there 'taking care' of a cold and soulless body?
If I had been forced to go, I'm sure I wouldn't have stood for it, and I would have yelled at his parents that they should have listened to me, even if it made me look like an insensitive idiot.
It's such a strange feeling... shortly after I last saw him, I fell ill, I don't remember much, but I remember there was a knock on the door in the middle of the night, and my family went out somewhere. I knew then somehow... he was gone.
The next day I was told that he was gravely ill, I guess to avoid giving me the news or something. Those details don’t matter now, at least he is not in pain anymore, I thought bluntly.
I want to cry, scream, kick, storm the hospital and beat them all up... but no tears come out, I don't even feel like crying, I don't feel particularly sad. I feel like I want to cry, but not a single tear comes out.
I just accepted his death as if it was the most natural thing in the world, like being told, 'Oh look, it rained last night,' or, 'Mom made hot cakes for breakfast,' or, 'Your dad already fixed the leak in the roof...' That's how it felt, a dry and heartless, 'oh, the person I cared about most in the entire world died... oh well, these things happen'.
... Is there something wrong with me?
Ryoma POV
I should have known better.
I really should have known better.
I should have realized that there was something wrong with that doctor. My daught... Seina, she's not the type to break down in despair when something bad happens.
She didn't panic when my son came in with his hand bathed in blood from that damn wire. She calmly offered to clean it and even sew it up. We didn't let her, of course, but she cleaned it anyway, applied ointment and bandaged it perfectly, and for a moment I thought it would be okay to let her suture the cut after all. Before... Dismissing the idea as childish nonsense... It's not the first time, apparently.
I was so blind. When I was a kid, and we were emigrating from the Empire, we traveled with a medical caravan for a while, through a war zone.
It was amazing to see the doctors and nurses working for hours and hours, without rest, in an environment of despair and death. It made me admire them, the courage and mental strength to do the right thing, no matter what mountain of pressure they were under. All without expecting anything in return.
But... mere excuses. Not everyone who shares a title is the same, why didn't I realize that before? It's so obvious! I should have noticed the contemptuous attitude of that damned doctor. My daugh- Seina had never been so desperate to be heard. And I, like a fool, dismissed what she was saying until it was too late, just worrying about little things... No, I didn't just dismiss it, I tried to convince her she was wrong...
I don't even feel entitled to call her my daughter in my mind anymore.
I feel my fists clenching and my breathing quickening.
And the worst part is... she doesn't seem angry. Not that I want her to hate me, of course, this isn't about me. But if it would make her feel better, I wouldn't mind... But no, she has shown anger and sadness many times, but mostly she seems to have accepted the boy's death...
And yet she looks so cold and disinterested in the world... there are people like that, but I know she's not one of them, something is definitely not right.
She doesn't eat unless we ask her, as if she doesn't feel hungry. She does her homework and then stays in the same position for hours, sometimes without blinking. Her beloved super expressive tail is now crawling all over the floor, showing no signs of life... She talks about the boy with no problem when my wife asks about him, she has no qualms about mentioning his death, which makes us think it's not just a simple grieving.
I've never been much of a talker with my family... I tend to rely on my wife to communicate with my children, I've never known why. It doesn't matter now. The point is, I don't feel capable or entitled to try to make her feel better... am I a bad father? I don't know.
... But.
But I do know that I want what's best for my children. 'ENOUGH', I can't do it with this mentality. What? I don't feel entitled to call her my daughter? Who gives a goddamn how I feel? My girl. My precious daughter has problems and I'm just wallowing in misery like a total loser... My father would be furious.
For now, I'll trust the rest of my family to take care of her, I really hope being there for her is enough. And me, I have to do better.
"I don't know if it's in my power to do it, but I swear you're going to be okay"
I say to my daughter's sleeping figure in her bed, and for perhaps the first time since she was a kid, I tuck her in and give her a kiss on the cheek.
In the meantime, just to begin, I will pray day and night, to all the gods whose names I can find, for my daughter to return to her old self.
No. For her to become the happiest woman in the world.