A Little Bit Of Joy | ✔

Chapter Sixty : The Sister's Fear

I knocked on Gemma's door, drawing her attention to me. She was hunched over her desk and as I advanced towards her, she scrambled from her chair. She was trying to cover a paper on the desk and her eyes were wide in alarm. I smoothly took the paper from her before she could oppose, suspicious of what she was doing.

I was awed by what I saw- a simple half-finished painting of a seashore with an orange sky filled with stars.

"Give it back," Gemma said flatly.

I gushed in delight, "It's sooo good Gem!"

"You're not supposed to see it," she said loudly, reaching for the paper and I let her take it. "You shouldn't have seen it."

My forehead creased in confusion. "Why?"

"I was making it for you as a surprise," she admitted, her gaze averted to the floor. "Maa said it would be a good idea."

"It's okay---"

"No, it's not okay," she interrupted impatiently. "I wanted to do something for you and you ruined it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." I gave her a helpless look. "You can still finish the painting, I would want to see it."

Her gaze flickered to me, but not looking me in the eye. "You would want to see it?"

"Of course, it's breathtaking!" I grinned at her, pleased that a blush crept up her neck. "I'll leave you to finish your painting. I'm sorry I ruined your surprise plan."

"That's okay," she said a bit cheerfully and just when I was about to leave, she blurted out, "When are you going to die?"

"Erm . . . I'm not sure," I replied back softly, knowing that she would throw this question at me someday. "There's still time though Gem."

"How long?" she demanded, a tremor in her voice. "How long?"

"I don't know . . ." As days went by, I puked more, bled more, shat continuously or none at all. I got dizzy more often and dehydrated more quickly. My body ached more and I slept more hours than usual. I ate less food and drank more fluids. I loss more weight and became less pretty (a milder term to use for uglier). I was deathly pale, my bluish nerves were showing. I smiled feigning optimism. "I'm sure I'll live till you're done with that beautiful painting."

She only nodded, but she didn't seem okay. I waited for her to say something- anything that assured me she was fine. Slowly, she looked up, her eyes glassy.

"But I don't want you to die," her quavering voice was a choked whisper. She looked vulnerable, honest and frail- a small sister who wanted to protect her elder sister, but didn't know how? A small sister who I had abandoned for my own needs, but she never held it against me. She still loved me as fiercely as she did when we were little.

I tried not to get fazed by her words, but it hurt. It hurt to see her sad. I had accepted my fate long ago then why couldn't they? My heart became heavy and I opened my mouth to comfort her, but no words came out.

"I don't want you to die!" she was now repeating furiously, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. My chest tightened and I couldn't bring myself to look at her. "I don't want you to die!"

She was screaming, pulling at her silky hair painfully and I started to cry.

"Gem stop . . . " I mumbled weakly, trying to see her through my blurring vision. "Gem . . . "

I heard footsteps hurrying in the room as my mum entered. She twisted Gemma's arms back gently as she lashed out. Mum held her wrists from behind and lowered her to the floor until her front was pressed against the carpet. Gemma writhed for a few seconds, but finally calmed down. I merely stood there like a sobbing failure- I was the worst sister.

Mum murmured some soothing words in Gemma's ear before getting up from the floor, giving her some space.

My mum then approached me. "Joy are you okay?"

I wiped my face roughly and blinked at her. "Y-Yeah maa, I-I'm alright. I'm sorry for-for upsetting Gemma. She didn't suffer from a breakdown like this since months and now . . . I'm sorry."

"No Joy. We knew this was coming," she said tenderly. "I'll talk to her, tell her properly that-that . . . "

"No maa, I'll talk to her," I said with a newfound determination. It was wrong of me to put another pressure on mum. She was suffering enough, she shouldn't have the responsibility of discussing the topic of her suffering to her daughter. "It'll b-be difficult, but this time I'll handle it. I'll just . . . need some time."

"Okay." She took a last worrying glimpse of Gemma before squeezing my shoulders and leaving the room.

Gemma's eyes were vacant as she stared at my feet in her prostrate form. Her tear stained cheek was pressed against the floor, her hands still twisted behind her back as if someone was holding her. I quietly went and laid down on my back next to her, softly brushing her tangled hair from her face.

"Gem . . . " I reached for her arm and lightly tugged it. She let them fall limply to her side. I took her one hand which was balled into a fist and slowly opened it. There were strands of ripped, glossy hair bunched together.

I closed her hand into a fist and kissed it, fresh tears stinging my eyes.

* * *

Third Person's POV [Logan's POV]

Logan had gone to his counsellor's weekly sessions and had poured his heart out- how he felt desolate about the future. When he was asked why, he carefully told that it wasn't something particularly affecting him but in general. He did get comfort which was enough to put his mind at ease for a while.

He was cautious to not reveal any  information about his uncle's messages, although he knew that David was aware that his client was hiding something. Logan didn't want him to know because he knew that matters- kidnapping and torture threats like these wouldn't be kept confidential. It would be taken to the police and at that thought, he panicked.

The last thing he wanted was anything to do with the cops. Before dating, Joy had requested for only one wish- peace. How could he destroy that? He was sure that once the cops knew, Joy's serene life would be disturbed greatly. If the word got around, she would start worrying about him which would deteriorate her health more. It was either being quiet and dealing with his own battles, or telling everyone and leaving Joy's life for good.

But he couldn't leave Joy, not now, not ever.

Logan sat on his bed and stared at the picture of his family on his phone. His mum's smile, his dad's serious face like he was a soldier at attention, his little brother's goofy grin and his grandma's soft expression. He was standing behind his little brother with his hands on his shoulders. It was strange how in a matter of months this family was torn to shreds.

Just then a message popped up on his screen from his dearest uncle-

I'm thinking of what job is suitable for my favourite nephew at the factory, but I'm not finding any.

It's best to get rid of useless things.

Logan's blood ran cold, the phone slipping from his clammy hands and falling on his lap. This was a direct death threat- first he thought he had little future at the factory, but now he had no future. All his plans, his hardwork, his life would be cruelly snatched away from him. Useless. There was no escape, game over.

Another message popped up and narrowing his eyes at the phone, he read-

Is the date on or am I getting nervous for no reason?

It was from Joy. Logan let out a breath and chuckled, his tension evaporating. And he received more messages from his friends, about hanging out after college. He relaxed more, now laughing.

He was not going to escape, he was going to fight just like he had promised.

So he casually sent 'of course' to Joy and 'cool' to his uncle.