I looked out the foggy window, the sun hiding behind the gray clouds. I frowned and tapped my pencil against my bottom lip. Would inspiration ever come? I pulled my light blue jacket tighter around my body and scratched at my messy auburn hair. I peered at the small white clock: 8 o'clock in the morning. I groaned and rubbed my tired, sandy eyes. I've been up all night, trying to think of an artistic piece of work, something with strong but hidden meanings. Nothing came though. So all night I remained in my small dark room, sitting in the same chair for hours until my bottom had lost all its feeling. I heard small footsteps outside my chipped door, making the wood floor creak softly. I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head and fell onto my desk. My scattered thoughts shook around in my brain until my door opened.
"Amelia? Are you up?" My little brother's voice whispered into my room. I slowed my breathing and waited to hear my door shut. When it didn't happen, I sighed and turned around in my chair.
"How can you always tell?" I wondered, feeling my tight mussels cry out as I stretched them, making me sneer as I did so. James smiled, his small face looking tired as he came over to me and tugged on my leg.
"Maybe because you're not good at faking?" He offered as I pulled him up on my lap. His sudden weight made my thin legs attempt to hold him up. It's not that James was that chubby, it's just that I have an eating disorder. I've been to the hospital several times for it and it's hard for me to hold weight more than mine. It's so bad that my six year old brother weighs more than me.
"Am too." I rolled my eyes and looked at him. "Why are you up at this time anyways?" James shrugged and hid his face in my old wrinkled shirt. I nodded to myself; whenever he did this he probably had a nightmare. I stood up, picking him and almost dropped him. I never realized how weak my body was becoming, and surely I would be in the hospital again soon. James snuggled his head into my shoulder and, by the time I reached his room at the other end of the hall, he was already asleep. I opened his door and slowly laid him down in his unmade bed.
"Night buddy, sleep well." I kissed his forehead and pulled the covers over him lightly. I wandered into my room again, suddenly my mind was foggy. I stopped in front of my door and held onto the frame. I inhaled a deep breath and walked inside, shutting the door behind me. I wobbled over to my desk once again, looking out the window. I blinked a few times and tried to focus on the moving piece of paper. As it came into one piece, I sketched down a small picture.
"Done." I whispered to me, my voice weak and shaking. I looked at the clock for the second time: 8:30. It's already been a half hour and I only drew a small sketch. I looked down at it; it was of a young girl. She had a small umbrella over her head and she was jumping in a puddle, her dress flying around her. She was smiling and having a good time, just like I'd always wanted my life to be. I never got to be happy and make friends or even go outside when I was young. I was always sick and the only friends I made were the elderly people in the hospital.
They always died though before I got to see them healthy. I basically grew up in the ICU, the only time my parents were happy was when James was born. Also that time when I was finally released, when I was 9 years old. That was 6 years ago though, and I still wasn't as healthy as I should be. I don't have many friends either, just my guy friend Kijay. He has suicidal problems though, so I didn't get to see him unless I got to sneak out. I couldn't even go to school, my condition was getting worse lately and I was worried.
"Just this last thing…" My voice cracked and it didn't even sound like me anymore. My brain was almost completely blank except for small sentences I couldn't even finish thinking. My vision was foggy and weak; I could barely even see the paper anymore. I tried to write my name on the bottom of the paper but my hand shook too much. My body shook and I eventually found my way to lie on the floor, my face to the window. Outside it was grainy and cold, the rain pounding against the muggy brown grass. I felt my eye lids get heavy and I wanted to close them, just let go.
I knew I was dying. I knew it with all my heart and all my soul. I just didn't want to leave without my family, without them even knowing. Would they even care? Probably not, no one probably would. I gasped for breath like a fish, but my chest hurt every time. A tear slipped down my cheek and past my ear. At least I finished my drawing in time, and the weather was so fitting it felt like a movie. I felt like crying more, like curling up into a ball in the middle of my floor, but I was too weak. The sky was crying for me, but it didn't have to worry because when I closed my eyes, I was right up there with them, too high up for the rain to touch me.