"Rose, wake up." Cried Aunt May happily which is quite a usual sight these days after brother had gained some weight and tad bit of strength.
"Aunt just a few more minutes." I'm tired as hell!
Every muscle screamed the moment I tried to stand. My legs trembled like they were learning to walk again, peeling themselves away from the sofa in slow rebellion. A sharp sting shot up my calves, and for a second, I just hung there, half-upright, gripping the armrest as if the floor might bite back.
Not long ago, I used to tear through workouts that felt straight up from hell—hours of sweat, bruises I wore like badges. Now muscle ache can be felt from all possible angles.
"Rose come down and see, it's about our district".
That woke me up, startled. Legs just suddenly worked on their own. I ran downstairs and just one glimpse did indeed bring tears to my eyes as the news read, 'District 10 is breaking records as its economy is being ranked at no.2 this year. Just a few distances away from district 1'. Ahh~Well the people on the click news do know how to trigger someone. Hope this just goes by without catching much attention. Their eyes are always watching even now, the intensity…is evident. The hair standing is one part of it.
It's hard to believe. Always will be. A sigh of relief is needed right now but it's useless as I hugged Aunt to calm my vibrating heart."I can't believe it." Even as my hair stood.
I am happy but I'm tense for no reason...Maybe I have my reasons from the very start.
"This all happened because of your efforts." She said as a hand clasped around mine.
I wish that the inner me was a bit more confident in accepting all this. But I did work my butt off, knowing well that this ruling is not my domain to begin with.
"Let's go and tell Brother." At least he would enjoy the news, unlike me. I ran at my own pace and didn't wait for her reply or, in a more thoughtful version of events, for her to run after me. The wide staircases existed for one purpose only: to keep him upstairs, to preserve the distance.
Knock.
Knock.
Knocked again but still got no response, which is tension-inducing.
"Brother." I pressed my ear to the door, eavesdropping, violating his personal space, though I didn't care anymore. There was only silence. A tight, squeezing silence that pulled fear into my chest, every past experience layering itself over the present. Opening the door only welcomed shock and fear at the same time. He was lying on his bed with one arm hanging down from the bed. Putting aside the trembling rising in me, I saw him as though his soul had been snatched away. I moved quickly, stepping beside him and pulling him up.
No. Not on my watch. It was back again. The urge came suddenly. I thought of screaming, dismissed it as useless, and my mind stated the most obvious truth it could offer. I shouted anyway. Almost the same thing.
"Aunt, get the doctor here, please... Hurry now." Please hurry. Please. I held his face in my palms; he's not cold. Temperature seems to be just fine. Pulse too. Why then? Why me? Why him again?
"Aunt, hurry up already." Not considering that I had practically shouted at her. Like a small child, careless, knowing only how to spread terror by crying for attention, the kind that drags every gaze toward the one who needs it most. In this case, all that mattered was my brother, an old habit of mine.
I should be used to this by now, as he gets this sort of insentient condition repeatedly, but it just isn't possible after all these eyes have seen for the past years.
He is not within my grasp. The fear of losing creeps me out every single time; this heart of mine continues to race, limbs shake, with tears draping my face as I continue to admonish this wait.
As soon as I heard steps making their way into the room, Aunt came in along with the doctors. These doctors could be called our family doctors, as they've been treating my brother for the past 10 years.
We stood side by side, Aunt and I, as the doctors examined him.
After the checkup, the doctors passed Aunt May a page of medicines, as usual. That page always irritated me, right down to the bone. What's the point of them if they're not working? Years of medication did entice some hope, but how much longer do I have to wait?
I couldn't control the sharpness in my voice but I also didn't want to lose my temper at the doctors.
"Tell me what's wrong. You said he's getting better so what the hell is this?" The shrillness can not be put aside while they continue to look at him.
He's coming back at me with his usual monotonous tone, irritating me, "Look, I know what I had told you before. All I can say for now is that he's taking some kind of tension, as there are no apparent issues. He just had a minor breakdown. Don't worry, he'll wake up in an hour or two."
Don't worry!???
Those same old consoling words that these ears of mine are tired of hearing. Why don't they understand what goes on inside of me when he lies with nothing to support?
That entire day and by entire I mean the whole day without moving an inch, I stayed by his side. Wanting him to just open his eyes, look at me, and tell me what's bothering him. I continued to grasp the sheets under him, to stop my trembling. When will I be free?
The sound of his groaning reached my ear as I was close to drowning myself in sleep, jolting me awake.
God listens. God heard my plea.
He woke up with an irritating, angry expression on his face. But if looked upon clearly, then that was not so pleasant from any angle. With a hoarse voice, the type that made it seem as if just all the articulators were placed in order a minute ago, "You're here."
"Yes, here as always." Always, as I knew that the first person he'd want to see would be me. Call it a strong claim, but that's how I see him. I pushed myself to get close to him. Seemingly closing the distance as I reached for those two pairs of hands that were only a few inches bigger than mine. Genetics plays the role of the most ardent fact of human physiology. A man is a man, and a woman, no matter how tough, remains a woman regardless of her achievements and insight. But he and I are equal. I refuse to see otherwise. He does not like it any better either. I know it.
Relieved to see him awake. Yet that deep tingling continues to pinch me. Like, I know what the bothersome issue could be. Holding hands, more like squeezing the lemon out of them, I wanted him to not ask more of what we had already gone over. But his hands chose to dominate mine, as it was my plain, rough hands underneath his pale, cold, soft hands in a blink of an eye.
"Rose, how much time is left?" There he went, with a deep-rooted tremor in his voice. So this is what's bothering him, which made all the more sense, as I had expected this much. Deep down, it was clear as water what he meant by those words, but I couldn't bear to see his broken expression.
It might feel a bit better if I stalled myself some time.
"What do you mean? What time?"
But what next? Isn't escape easier than talking it out? Maybe I was only feeding a fire I had believed was long extinguished in me. I could be wrong. Couldn't I? "Rose, don't play dumb with me. You know exactly what I am talking about, so I am going to ask once again. HOW MUCH TIME?"
The one thing I've learned in my eighteen years of life would be to never test his patience.
"Brother, is this coming tutorial that's bothering you? I'll only say that my going to the army doesn't bother me."
Well, actually going there does bother me a lot, but there's nothing I can do to avoid this, so it doesn't matter if it is bothering me or not.
"But it bothers me. Can't you see?" The pale hands of his dug deep into the sheets as he almost ardently spoke what he wanted. No, something that needs conveying.
"Mom's dead. Dad's dead. I only have you, and so far you have done a lot for my sake. But now that it has come to this, and you knew well that we'd eventually be dragged into it. This is something that can't be avoided. You know it better than me." I felt his hands around my arms as they slowly made their way to torment me.
"What do you want me to do—sit, eat, sleep, and wait for that to happen?" death! He is being real with me is all I understood.
I had nothing left to say. But you're making me weak, brother. It felt like the beginning of an emotional punch, slow and unavoidable.
"Rose, please have pity on me. You're strong, and I know it, but I am not." I could see and feel them… as they shred me… his tears. Rolling down his cheek and that choking voice… Am I heartless?
I felt my heart being squeezed, so as quick as I could, I hurriedly hugged him lightly, but this hug wasn't as light as I remembered. He is hugging me back with all his strength, a strength that spoke of not letting me go. But I know this too, brother! I don't want to leave either. But high morale is what he needs, and that's all I'm accepting as of now.
"Who said you're only going to sit and sleep? Tell me. With me gone, you have to look after the district. And why are we talking as if I'm dead or dying…maybe, just maybe… I have mastered the art of deception."
Still not letting go, so I included the good news. "Brother, do you know what happened today? Our district got to position 2 this year. Last time we were at 6. We've done well."
The hesitation in my voice could not be shrouded. I'm always hesitant.
"Do you think Dad will be proud?" I asked even when I was never inclined to do so.
I felt him nod. Maybe, just maybe, I've proven myself…maybe.
He let go of me. "Rose, not 'we,' only 'you.' This all happened because of you." This is reassurance; I gaped at it longer than it needed. I smiled, but my smile faded as soon as the smile on his face blurred out. His face was now laced with a scared expression but intermixed with a fierce one. I'm right this time.
"Have you forgotten what happened with Dad? They might do it again."
Our hatred flew straight toward District One, sharp as an arrow. They had killed our father before our eyes and nearly killed Rosen. All this happened just because our district was developing at a faster pace than theirs, openly promoting that new precedes what old could not.
Back then our district was at no. 3, and the way we were developing, it was soon going to take over all. And the fact known by all, that this District is the smallest, and us maturing quickly either scared them or they probably let their pride get the best of them. No wonder not a single district stood up for us in our time of need.
How can I forget? I always think about that incident—whether I could've saved Dad or at least would've tried to.
"Brother, you know that I can never forget that. As for them, this time we will be prepared. They can't do anything while I am there, as you know, but still I will make sure the security is on high alert here."
If it happens again, I swear things shall get ugly beyond their comprehension.
"You do remember what happened to that one guy who had killed Dad and made you like this." A limp…the word just never gets out.
That man, after finishing with Dad and making sure he was dead, turned the gun on my brother and shot him in the legs. He was already fragile from severe illness. The injury was unnecessary, almost deliberate.
I was crying my heart out and screaming at him while being held back by Aunt. But stepping back is something I never learned. I found the gun Dad had thrown in the fight. One thought. I bit Aunt's hand and ran. I was eight, but I knew how it worked. What can I say? I learned fast. The gun was quite big in my small hands. But it didn't feel heavy at all. I bet adrenaline was doing its job at its finest. I held it up, aimed, and shot.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
I knew he was dead on the spot, but I still kept going. Shooting till the bullets ran out.
After the mishap, an ordeal I'd say, everyone told me not to remember what I did that day. Everyone thought that I wasn't okay. How okay I was was up to me. Whenever I remembered it, the pride in just some ways seeped in.
An 8-year-old girl shot someone to death. To me it never was scary. My thoughts back then were, 'If I had more bullets, I would have carried on. Even now I don't differ with my plain thoughts.
I could sense my brother smiling at me. "I know how wicked my little sister can be, but don't get too wicked." A giggle was all I could come up with.
Returning back to the first question of our conversation. As he just turned 20 two days ago.
"Brother, just 7 days." Just these.
Tears stinging in both of our eyes. We knew that words cannot describe our pain, our sufferings, and our feelings. We both sat there for at least a few minutes without saying much. I don't feel the need to say anything, and neither does he.
He went for the drawer beside his bed and got something out. I felt anticipatory about what it might be, as I wasn't ready for another attack.
"Rose, you do know that Mother died just a month after your birth. Dad didn't get you registered in the family tree because he thought you were the cause of it."
Why are we discussing this? It's no use.
He paused and opened his palm for me to see, then continued.
"Rose, you do know Mom named you."
"Yes." I knew that.
"Dad gave me this to hand it over to you." He held his palm close in my direction.
"Mom gave this to him, and he gave it to me to give to you when you turn 20. Rose, no matter how Dad treated you, you should know that he did love you. It's just that he loved Mom so much."
I knew where this conversation was going to land as he continued.
"You have forgiven him. Right? If not, then please do. He told me to take care of you and give this to you when you turn twenty, but I can't wait now. You are aging, and your thoughts do scare me. No wonder you're ruling even better than Dad."
He put the necklace around my neck. The necklace had his name, but there were two colors in it. 'ROSE' was written in black, whereas only the letter 'N' was in red. The necklace held both of our names.
I felt good having it around my neck.
Oh, I forgot. The doctor had asked me to call him when the patient, aka my brother, woke up. So I called him and let him have a look.
I went straight to the bathroom of my room. I stared at myself, my reflection that now had a necklace around it. But without wasting time, I started cutting my waist-length hair. Something that I had planned for some time now. I was so immersed in this that I didn't even see Aunt watching me from behind. Now that she is standing, I know a long chit-chat awaits me.
___________________________________________________________________________
Only a few days of heavy exercise, and my muscles returned, the belly I'd carried vanishing with them. My abs made me proud. Beyond a working body, I valued my dedication and, yes, my temper. I was still admiring the mirror when my phone rang. An abrupt invite. Typical. I put it on speaker.
"Madam Rose, everything is under control. All the work you have asked for has been done." I could hear him loud and clear, but those imminent coughs of his are a trademark, classic Uncle.
"Good. This is all that I wanted to hear."
Everything is going as planned. This time no one will be able to keep their dirty eyes on our district. This, of course, meant District 1 with specifications.
"Just two things are left. Our educational resources and our clothing industry problem—although both of these issues are not a big problem, it would be fine if we just solved them now. What do you think?"
"For these types of issues you can come and ask Rosen about it."
"Um. Ask Master Rosen. Is he well now?"
"He's better. Alright. Consult and guide, understood."
"OK."
"Oh, and don't overstress him." A thick, heavy tone—one that's impossible to forget.
I cut the call and went back to what I was doing. Oh yes, admiring my muscles.