I didn't know what was wrong with her

I didn't know what was wrong with her. No one did really. Not even the doctors. She just had something wrong. Something screwed with her head. It wasn't really anything. It just was.

There were times when she would say a word, knowing it from years before, but when she spoke it that one time it would come out wrong. Almost like her dyslexia wasn't just affecting her reading. Or she would see things that weren't there.

No one called her crazy; it wasn't the right word. She knew right from wrong and that kinda stuff. But sometimes she couldn't pick fact from fiction. Or sometimes she saw that fiction as fact.

Sometimes the floor seemed to disappear from underneath her but she could still walk. Sometimes her eyes looked fuzzy and she couldn't see. She remembered things wrong and her head hurt. Things that never happened to anyone happened to her. A memory no one else had bothered her until she couldn't think of anything else.

And sometimes, her body gave out on her. Her brain told it to just stop. It would keep breathing, and pumping blood through her but she couldn't talk, see, hear, smell or anything. She just sat there, staring out into space but not seeing anything.

Her brain also took away memories. But never the ones she didn't need. She didn't have short-term memory loss but she couldn't always remember things that had happened seconds before, much less minutes, hours, days or years before.

And it was all this that brought her down. Her body just gave out and it wasn't the usual attack where we'd have to wait for a few minutes for her to blink and laugh asking what we were all just standing around for.

One day she just sat down and closed her eyes, saying she had a headache, making the few of us there lower our voices slightly as we always did when she got like this. She leaned forward, placing her head in her hands and I watched her from the corner of my eye, just like always.

Suddenly her right arm twitched and dropped, followed quickly by her left and she slumped forward. My eyebrows shot up at this. Usually when she had one of her moments she stayed the same position wise.

I thought she may have fallen asleep as she had a few times before so I took her hand in mine, about to wake her when I felt the fever in just that tiny, usually freezing cold hand. My eyes grew wide as I shook her, feeling the fever in the rest of her body, through her clothes.

By now the others were looking as her, worried as I was. One of them, I don't know who, pulled out their cell, calling for help both on the phone and from the librarians we knew so well. This was no normal attack.

She was taken to the hospital and when they asked us what was wrong with her we couldn't tell them. Was this another one of her attacks? Was this something new? We didn't know since her attacks didn't have a name; they just were attacks.

What none of us knew was her attacks had been happening a lot more then we thought and it had been draining her; both mentally and physically. And once we found out, we didn't know what this meant for her.

After her blood family I was the first of her 'real' family to go see her. Her hazel eyes were half opened and she looked drugged. She had an air mask over her mouth, and an iv sticking in her arm. She turned her head slightly when she heard the door close. The relief in her eyes when she saw it was someone she liked was terrifying; it told me there was something wrong and she knew it.

I took her hand and held it up slightly. Use to the icy cold hands the fever that still raged in them burned, causing a small frown to tug and my lips. She saw this and winced, knowing what she had kept from us was catching up and there was no way she could hide it now. No way she could lie when we were the ones who had seen her fit.

"You going to tell me off?" He voice was rough and dry compared to the sweet laughing voice that asked this same question usually. I smoothed her hair back and nodded, not trusting my voice yet.

Her eyes were apologetic and she held up a finger of the hand I held, stalling me. "Trust me on this brother, you don't want to know. I don't want you or the others to know. So if you have to hear me say it forget after you walk out the doors and forget what you see for the rest of the day and what you already saw. Promise me." Her voice broke on those last words.

I stared at the fog on the mask over her face and sighed. I would agree to the promise though I had no intention to keep. She didn't have to know I wouldn't keep it; though would figure anyways.

"I promise."

She smiled lightly and gave my hand a weak squeeze. "Thank you, Big brother." She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, fogging up the air mask once again. "I'm falling apart. It's been happening for years. It started with my brain and in order to keep running my brain is taking energy from the rest of me. The doctors haven't told me this. They don't know why I'm breaking they just know I am. I know why. I feel it. I feel my brain get weaker then stronger and there isn't anything to do about it. I try to give myself more energy to run on but my brain just takes more then it should and I shut down.

"I don't want the pity I get from my blood family and the doctors and nurses who see how much I'm falling apart. I don't want to see that in your eyes. They are condemning me to a death that I'm trying my hardest to fight against. They're giving up while I'm still fighting. If I see that in those I love and care about, the people who truly matter to me…do you think I would even bother trying any more? If you and everyone out there," She jerked her hand towards the waiting room, "gave up on me like everyone else has…why should I keep fighting? I try, brother, I really do but if you give up hope, if any one in that groups even worries about me then I'll know I can't fight it. That I have nothing to fight it with.

"I want to get older then 16. I want to find someone to forget about Jon with and marry them and have a baby girl. Move somewhere with lots of land and get a puppy that my baby can play with and grow up with. I want to write and finish school and live my life. I want to see my child's children…I want to be normal."

Tears were rolling down her cheeks but she didn't seem to notice. "If you worry about this then you won't let me do things. Won't let me make mistakes. Won't let me be myself because I might break. Because I could have a fit in the middle of the street and not notice the light change or the car zooming towards me."

This was why she had kept it from us? Of course it was. This was always her worry. That we would want her to be even more careful then she was being. That she would watch her more then we already did.

She was the youngest mentally in our group most of the time. But she could be very old too and age wise they were a few younger then her. We had all kept an eye on her just cause she was naïve and trusting. And now she wanted us to do nothing. To sit back and watch her…watch her what? Die? Turn into a vegetable? What was going to happen to her?

I gripped her hand tightly between both of mine. My face was set in what I could only guess to be a hard, maybe cold look. "If you think us watching out for you…us caring for our little sister is saying we think you can't take care of yourself, you are wrong and I should hit you for even thinking that." She winced but I didn't stop. "But if you think that our pity will only let us think you're going to die then we won't pity you. We'll be careful, we'll watch out for you but we won't pity you. Not even when…if you as so weak you can't breathe for yourself. We'll never pity you because you have those wonderful dreams to live for. We won't let you die. Even if we have to breathe for you."

I looked at her and saw her eyes were closed but she nodded. I held her hand, praying to a god I didn't believe in to give her strength to live and to fill her dreams. When I looked at her again her eyes were still closed and her chest was raising and falling in even little intervals of time. She was asleep. Thank god.

I rose, ready to break my promise to her and tell everyone else. But we wouldn't pity her because even as she broke down she had dreams of the future that none of us had gotten to yet. And out of the group, she was most likely to reach those dreams.