Lindsey pov
I stepped out of my room the next morning like I didn't cry myself to sleep last night. My eyes always fail to show my emotions. If not, it should be bloody red and probably swollen with the amount of tears I forced it to shed last night.
I woke up in the midnight and continued from where I stopped. There's a lot to cry for but right now it's because I realized that I might miss the opportunity to get into university again this year.
It's a shame for me that my academic performance and perfection can't help me into a university. My parents' validation ain't with me, and for that, I can't get admitted to any school, not even the ones where my results give me suitable access to because of how brilliant I am. I have the results but not the assistance.
"Wrap it up, Lindsey. You shouldn't allow Andrew to see that you've got teary eyes again," I encouraged to myself like I didn't know it was not enough. It's crazy how his room and I are facing each other, but still, it feels like we both ain't living in the same house or having the same parents. No, they didn't give birth to me but I can't deny seeing them as mine regardless.
There was no idea if he was awake or not because he always had his door locked, and I barely had to ever knock or go close to it. He doesn't want to see my face and I'm not interested in seeing his scanty beards either. I'm eight years older than him and deserve enough respect, but he would not give that to me even after I've earned it.
"Andrew," I called out to his name as I calmly knocked on his door. "I need to talk to you," Whatever mom and dad thought about me being selfish and only care about myself isn't right. I know I can do better than that and I'm making it possible.
I was never told that he had a disease, and if they did, was I supposed to be close to rude boy like him? He's too annoying for me to be thinking about him all the time. He has everything that he wants and lacks nothing. Maybe good health, but unlike me, he didn't have to suffer emotional torture after being cared for for years. He was loved right from birth and they still love him dearly.
A minute after standing close to the door without him showing up and me planning to leave out of frustration, he finally opened the door. I expected to meet his grumpy eyes staring down at me as usual, but what appeared before my eyes was a wincing face of his.
Andrew's left hand held on to the door as he kept half of his body in the room and only showed his head and chest to me. His right hand was placed tightly on his chest. I looked at where he was holding on his chest and couldn't suspect anything.
"Are you okay?" The painful expression that he was giving me showed that he wasn't. He hasn't even said anything or spoke to me since he came out. It's unusual for him to see me without putting up a drama.
"It... It hurts," he whispered like he could barely speak out loud. There was an evident pain in his voice and the way he spoke to me just now.
"What's hurting you?" I asked out of worry even after seeing his palm clutching onto his chest tightly. His body couldn't stand firm. Instead, his knees were shaking and even his fingers were on the door.
"Painful," he grumbled and slowly, his body started bending towards the ground until he laid down flat on it. What happened suddenly? He was fine last night and he seemed alright. Disease!? Mom mentioned him having a disease.
Is that what he's suffering with? Is that what is affecting his chest? I squatted quickly beside him, my hand stretched to touch him but I held it in the air for a moment before placing it on his scattered hair.
He's like a brother to me. He's my brother and I'm not happy seeing him suffering. I should inform Mom and Dad about this. They need to come get him to the hospital. He needs to be attended to.
"I'll be back," I didn't wait for him to reply before I stood up and hurried towards my parent's room. I doubt if they both were awake, but with how I banged on their door, Dad was the first person to scream before he opened the door while still complaining.
Dad appeared before my eyes with insults rolling out of his mouth at me. I was right, they were still sleeping. What time is it? I didn't check before leaving my room.
"Andrew is in pain," I forced the words out of my mouth. Not giving myself a chance to think about the harsh words he had just said to me. The shock I expected to see appeared on his face, and he went back into the room to inform Mom before he rushed out of the room.
He walked with as much speed as he could to Andrew's room and I tiptoed behind him. When I noticed the sharp movements behind me I looked back and saw mom rushing behind us in her pyjamas. She looked like she was about to go insane, and her eyes held so much fear in them.
Mom walked up to me and walked passed by without saying anything to me. I wanted to hurry up like they were but I don't have the energy. My both legs are shaky and I'm too weak from starvation.
*
It was late in the afternoon, while I sat beside Mom with an empty belly. I didn't eat last night because of what happened, and I couldn't eat before what happened today. It'll be a full day in few hours since I last tasted food.
Andrew was rushed into the hospital and since we brought him in, we've not been summoned up to see him. Dad was called upon many times but he never revealed whatever the doctor said to him.
In silence, I stared between my parents and the fear of something happening to their biological child on their face.. Mom looks like she will hurt herself if any bad news come from the hospital walls about Andrew. And Dad, Dad has been walking up and down the reception like something dangerous was moving around his body.
"He'll be fine, Mom," I assured her. My fingertips wiped away the tears she had rolling down her cheeks even without sobbing, and I felt the need to also burst into tears. I don't know which pain to hold on to. The pain of me suffering or seeing them suffering?
Mom stared intently at me and unexpectedly, she rested her head on my shoulder and finally let out her cry. My eyes rested on the tiled ground; helplessness filled my entire being, and I felt weak at the sound of her crying.
"Sorry, mom." I said what I could to make her feel at ease. Her body tensed and she stopped sobbing but didn't take her head away from my shoulder.
"He'll be fine, Sarah," Dad came closer to us and consoled his wife from not crying her eyes out. She nodded her head at him and he walked away after giving her a faint smile.
I do hope that Andrew will stay safe. He seems to be their source of happiness and they've done everything to make him realise that. Including hurting me to make him feel great.
"What's wrong with him, mom?" I found myself asking. She only mentioned that he has a disease just last night and I've woken up to speak with him about his health. It was to my bad luck that I met him suffering, but it's a good thing that I got there at the right time that he needed help.
"Andrew?" Her shaky voice asked me. I nodded my head. My right hand found its way into her hair, and I patted it gently to help her feel better.
"He was diagnosed with a heart disease," A rush of fear flowed through the veins in my body at the hearing of that. How could he have gotten that at his young age? He's barely a teenager. He's just 14 years old.
"We've been treating it but I think he didn't take his drug last night. I told that boy not to be stubborn anymore. He should have taken those drugs," she lamented and finally raised her head from my body.
Mom sat upright and folded her arms on her chest. The act I saw reminded me of Andrew clutching his chest tightly with his hand. Was that what was hurting him? Was his heart aching him? How long has he been bearing the pain before I came?
"He'll be attended to and will be fine, Mom," I placed my hand on her to say even if she moved her hand away from mine. The emotional part of her which placed her head on my shoulder had gone and now she's back to not wanting me around her.
I could not say anything after that awkward moment. All I could do in my mind was to pray for his safety as I counted the footsteps of every single person going in and out of the hospital.
*
"Did you say that you met him in pain?" Dad asked as he drove us to the house. We both needed to get clean clothes for Mom and Andrew to change in. I particularly need to go home so I can prepare the meal Dad will take to the hospital.
Mom asked me not to come back and I didn't argue about it with her. I wanted to be there for Andrew, but my effort wasn't appreciated. I will only be hurting myself if I don't stay back at home.
"Get his drugs from his room once we get home and pack it with the food," Dad instructed and I sighed.
*
Who would have known Andrew clutching his hand on his chest before dropping to the ground and being rushed to the hospital would result in him not being back home for two weeks already?
My parent's movement at the hospital has been in and out. Mom has never come home to sleep; only comes to change her dress and pick up a few things with her. Nobody knows that I exist, and I try my best not to disturb them with what they don't care about. Me.
I've spent most of my night praying for him to be safe. I haven't set my eyes on him since the day that he was taken to the hospital. I have gone to the hospital three times in two weeks, but whenever I ask to see him, Mom declines without allowing me to even argue about it.
The situation of things was tense, but I wondered if she thought that my seeing him would worsen his health. I just want to see my brother and see if he's fairing well. Even if he'll roll his eyes harshly at me.
For all the nights I have spent alone in this house, all I've done is search through the internet while reading about his heart disease conditions. It's very dangerous and only surgery can help. Expensive surgery.
Andrew failed to use his medication, it would have gotten better without him lying down on the hospital bed while keeping his (our) parents in distress.
"The document," I handed the file in my hand to the man who was checking out the car where it was parked in the compound.
"What about the key?" He demanded in a grumpy tone and I didn't waste time before giving it to him. Dad shared with me that he needs to sell the car to sort out some of Andrew's hospital bills.
With no words left in my mouth to say aside pouting my mouth out of shock. Has the sickness gotten to the extent that they've spent a lot on him and now he needs to sell the only car we have?
I didn't say anything other than words of encouragement which he didn't take seriously before dashing to his room. He came out minutes after, grabbed the food flask that I packed, and I watched him walk out of the house without asking me to give him his car key back or that he had changed his mind about selling it off.
The man whom I assumed bought it took the key from me and I stepped two steps away from him. He was a short man with too many grumpy attitudes. He hasn't said much, but his actions showed that he has the personality of being a very rude person.
I won't believe the say about short people being rude because I am not rude, to begin with. It's all about what you choose to be and this man has chosen to be grumpy.
It's our car that he has come here to pick up and if anyone is supposed to be mad, it should be me. I wasn't even showing him that I was pained. This might be the last time I'll get to see or for the car to ride me anywhere, yet he was acting like I was stealing his joy away from him. He's the one stealing something from me.
While I was lost in my thoughts, an irritating sound jolted me out of it when he popped a bubble on the gum that I didn't know he had in his mouth before opening the car door and then relaxing in the driver's seat. That was irritating but I still didn't show it on my face. He's leaving soon anyway. I can still battle with the irritation for a few minutes.
Minutes after I watched him doing whatever he needed to do with the car, he brought his head out the window to say, "I'm driving out. I've paid for it, hope you're aware?" He asked like I was there when he sent the money. Very annoying human.
'No mister, I have no idea. But I know Dad wouldn't drop the needed documents and the key if you've not paid,' I thought about it but didn't say anything. His eyes that were on me rolled lazily around me, and when I refused to speak, he made himself comfortable, ignited the car engine, and I stood there, watching him as he drove the car away.