1A/N: Okay, 1. I will keep all and any author's notes to a minimal. 2. This is not my first work of fiction, but I am brand new to this site. 3. If you would review and tell me what you thought, this would go a lot more smoothly. 4. This is merely the prolouge, I do intend to expand this out into a full story, but it's going to start off small; please bare with me.
Prolouge: He Grew Up Too Fast
"Fuck!" he brokenly wailed at the sky, "Just...fuck!"
The last offending syllable reverberated through the empty park and even he heard his desperation.
"F-fuck!"
He was crying now. His large, calloused hands gripping the smooth metal of his old truck. Never before had he experienced such a heart breaking feeling; his mother was dead. The four letter sentence taunted him; teased him as he cried obscenities to his childhood. Today, he was no longer a 16 year old boy; he had to be a man.
"Fuck..." the curse word melded right in his mouth. It was the only coherent thought he could make at the moment. His mother was gone, his dad was somewhere in god forsaken Japan and his little sister was currently in the emergency room, being frantically operated on. There was no one to greet him whenever he got home, there wasn't going to be anyone anymore. His house, an empty bleeding destroyed fortress, was the last place he wanted to be. Here, amongst the park, he could bare his soul to the twilight sky. He was allowed to slowly filter out his adolescence here, but he knew that whenever he got home, he would have to be strong. His little sister, his poor little sister Amanda would need someone. His dad, even though a clear object of grief and pain for him, would need support, and he knew he would have to be the one to give it.
He didn't know how long he had been crouched on the asphalt, his head on the cooling truck's metal. Now, he felt empty; terribly old. Slowly he stood, wiping his puffy red eyes. He could hear his mom's voice in his head, clear as day. She encouraged him, she loved him, she did her best for him, and now she was dead. He felt as if something had been ripped out of him. A hole, gaping, bleeding; he was certain he would die next. Maybe not of a car crash, an irresponsible driver gone awry, but whatever carefree innocence he thought he should have possessed was over. An emotional death if you will.
Tall, even at 16, he stood up to the cool night sky. I will make her proud. He vowed, tears blurring his vision. I will...even if it kills me. Oh, irony, sweet, heartless irony.
He asked for his sister's hospital room number at the front desk. The whole room reeked of a cotton-ball sterile feel. It sent a nerve wracking shiver down his spine.
"It's 245 on the 2nd floor," the secretary looked up at him with pity etched into her features.
I don't need that! You don't even know what I've been through lady! He screamed in his mind.
"Thank you," was his soft reply.
Down the hallway he had a sense of vertigo and claustrophobia. He felt numb and the world around him seemed to bend to that. At the elevator, he felt like he would throw up. This is too much...what if she's bad off...?
The thought terrified him; his sister dying would be the icing on his angst. They both never seemed to be able to get along, her being 4 years younger than he, but now, at this moment, he couldn't imagine a world without her. As the elevator stopped he felt his stomach do some flip-flops, and it wasn't because of the gravity.
Another walk down a white hallway and sooner than he thought he found himself at the room; the ominous red numbers looked down on him from the door. He gulped and his mind went into a frenzy; now or never. Opening the door slowly, as not to disturb anything, part of him was instantly relieved to see his sister, ragged, but quiet well.
"Hey Mandi," he offered to the silence.
Vaguely, he registered his aunt sitting next to his sister talking in a hushed tone.
"Robert," she wheezed.
It broke his broken heart. He was over to her side in seconds. He couldn't speak; all he could see was her scratched up face and he automatically wanted to die on the spot.
"Honey, until your father gets here, Amanda and I discussed that it would be fine if you stayed with Uncle Jim and me."
His aunt, only 36, looked older than time at that moment. Even Amanda; fun-loving, hyperactive, looked like she had aged years. Looks like we all grew up.
He nodded, and fell into one of the hospital chairs next to his sister's bed. He was exhausted, after making some small talk with both of them, he passed out in the chair. His dreams were of light laughter, a motherly embrace, and the comforting scent of lavender.
Robbie; my baby, you'll be just fine. He woke up a little later, feeling at a loss, "Mom".