Date: Fri, 29 Jul 2005 13:26:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jane Doe <malkuth_lies@yahoo.com>
Subject: Another Night Wasted : Part 1

-We all know what time it is! Disclaimer time! First comes legal - this
story is intended for reading by adults, it presumably will eventually
involve sex between two sisters, if you shouldn't or don't want to read it,
don't.

-as a bit of a more personal disclaimer, I've never posted any of my
writing publicly before, I have a 9th grade education in english, please be
gentle. Feedback is welcomed, as long as you don't rip me apart. Peace out,
and enjoy.


	Another night wasted, time ticking by while I'm last in my own
world. Hiding behind my locked door, sleepless nights spent wandering my
room, changing my clothes, trying to find something - anything - that feels
right. Sitting outside my window smoking cigarettes I shouldn't have and
occasionally drinking beers pilfered from the fridge downstairs in the
hopes that the alcohol might help me sleep. It never works in case you were
wondering.
	It all started after a night like this. I don't know what was
keeping me up then. She came in to wake me up that morning, giving me a
reproachful look when she saw me standing in the middle of the room, lost
in thought, wearing my favorite baseball shirt and black boxer-briefs for
girls (or boy-shorts as I like to call them) and not much else.
	As I said, she stepped in (I wasn't in the habit of locking my door
then like I am now) a slight scowl marring her features. It didn't quite
register to me precisely why she was in my room. The barrier between my
brain and my mouth must've been a bit worn down by sleep deprivation and so
many hours alone.
	"You shouldn't frown, it'll cause wrinkles." popped out of my
mouth, mirroring a popular sentiment of her friend Lucy's mom. That woman's
best friend is botox, I swear to god.
	She just raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, then pointed at the
window. My eyes followed her finger, processing for the first time how
bright it was outside.
	"It's time to get up. Or at least get dressed and ready for
school." Her soft voice a bit testy, knowing that once again I hadn't
slept.
	I just stared at the window dumbly for a moment and then leapt into
action, scrounging clean clothes from the piles on the floor. Satisfied,
she turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.
	This is how most of our conversations went. Short sound bites
punctuated by gestures or facial expressions. Rarely did more than two or
three sentences pass between us before the encounter ended. Never too many
words, often too few. Not that I recognized it then.
	That morning I pulled on some jeans and a thermal weave top to
combat the cold outside, then a t-shirt over that before scrambling to get
socks on and my boots laced before heading downstairs to grab a mug of
coffee. We trudged out to her little rusty piece of crap she called a car
through the slush and snow (yes, I smoke outside my window in the
winter. Fear of my father smelling smoke in my room is greater than my fear
of falling or the discomfort of getting my butt cold and wet) and she
cranked up the heater as soon as she turned the engine over.
	I fussed with the shoulder strap of my seatbelt as we drove in
silence, vaguely grumbling in my head about how the thing would never
tighten up like it should, and about how the piece of shit we were riding
in would never get warm until we were already where we had to go. But this
was a private dialogue, held only in my head.
	Then the world was spinning. I was slammed forward and against my
door, a shocking pain running up through my left arm as I flung it out
seeking something to brace against. I was dazed by the crack my head had
gotten against the window as the spinning came to an abrupt halt. I
wrenched the door open and promptly vomited all that acrid coffee, now
mixed with stomach acid, out onto the ground. My right hand fumbled with
that damn seatbelt as my left was cradled instinctively to my chest and I
finally stumbled out of the car, dry heaving with the vertigo, scooping up
some snow to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth.
	Suddenly I remembered my sister in the car and I scrambled back
through the open passenger side door, not at all prepared for the sight
that greeted me. She was slumped onto the steering wheel, one hand still
hanging onto it, the other hanging limply down. Blood was streaming down
the side of her face, leaving a deep ruby stain on her fair skin and in her
otherwise strawberry blonde hair.
	I think I screamed. I gathered her to me, forgetting everything I
knew of emergency medicine. I honestly thought she was dying.. With her
laying there limp in my arms my mind just couldn't process what I may have
already lost. For the first time, I loved her. Truly and completely. I know
I was crying and stroking her face and I think I was mumbling as I kissed
her forehead and cheeks and lips and chin, oblivious to the coppery taste
of blood on my lips. As I kissed her I felt her briefly stir, lips parting
under mine as she let out a soft, pained groan. My mouth opened with hers,
taking the innocent kiss of sorrow and love a step farther, and I let out
my own moan as her breath passed into me.
	In that one moment I felt more emotion pass through me than I do in
an eventful month. To feel her body stir, to taste her breath, to know she
was alive. She wasn't leaving me. There was still time to say things that
had never been said. There was a brand new closeness to my sister in that
kiss, on so many levels. And after the kiss broke, there was the desire for
more.
	Turns out I had a minor concussion and a broken wrist. Her
concussion was more severe, and she needed a couple stitches to close the
cut on her forehead. But the change in me has been profound. That desire is
still in me, and every time I look at her or talk to her it grows. I think
I see her more clearly now.
	And after these weeks, all those unsaid things have remained that
way. I can't find words for any of them. I want that closeness back, more
than I've ever wanted anything, more than I want mom to be alive again. But
much like raising the dead, I have no idea how to achieve it. I really
wonder how long I can keep this up.