Wake me up inside.
Feb. 26th, 2012 06:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
musicae_amore
Who: Brea, Albert, Topher
When: Early hours Saturday night/Sunday morning.
It had been a late night at the club and the three of them had been larking around as they closed up. Brea couldn’t help but think how nice it was to see her brother so relaxed and having fun, and Topher always seemed to bring out the slightly competitive side in him.
The two of them had been arguing over music while they finished cleaning the glasses and wiping down tables, trying to out do one another on the knowledge they had. And once the place was clean they decided to have a couple of beers, and out came the guitars. Brea listened to the two of them, battling tunes on the guitars for a while before it turned into the two of them just jamming together and having a bit of a sing song. Topher was a lot like her brother in too many ways. The wild hair, large bushy eyebrows, the stubble and also their love for music that never seemed to fade. The two boys had often talked about the album Albert had been paid to make, and how it was a shame the company had gone bust before it had been released. And as they talked, so animated, Albert reminded Brea of a boy he’d been years ago.
Blinking back tears, Brea looked down at the hospital bed, the beeping machines and then the tubes and wires which were all connected to her brother. She wanted nothing more than to rip them all out and take him home, but with what the doctor’s said she knew she couldn’t.
Brea hated hospitals.
Feeling a hand on her own, she turned to see Topher standing beside her. His wrist was broken and one side of his face was cut and bruised. No words passed between them, but the guilt in his eyes was apparent. Shaking her head she leaned against him, closing her eyes as he wrapped his good arm around her. Finally Brea started to cry.
It was 3am by the time she locked up the bar, Topher and Albert were on the pavement beside her play fighting like a couple of 12 year olds, laughing as they did.
“Okay, okay, I surrender…” Topher said as he raised his hands up in defence, trying to catch his breath as he stepped backwards off of the pavement. Bending over he laughed softly and shook his head.
It was Albert who saw the lights of the car.
It was Albert who ran across the road and pushed his friend out of the way.
It was Albert who the car hit…
It was Brea who screamed!
Unable to move, Brea watched as the car hit her brother, not stopping as it swerved down the street away from them. Tears blurred her vision and across the street she could see Topher on the road, cradling his hand while blood trickled from wounds on his face and Albert… he wasn’t moving.
Somewhere in the distance Brea swore she could hear sirens, and then movement down the street as people came out to help.
Having told Topher to go home and rest, Brea finished talking to the cops and told them to go to the bar in the morning and collect the CCTV footage from the bar. Finally left alone she sat in a chair beside her brothers bed and curled up a little, waiting for him to wake up. Willing him to do it. For Brea, this was too much like weeks ago when Triton had come for her to help with Albert’s suicide attempt, only this time she knew she couldn’t make him wake up. Both were things she really didn’t want to talk about.
Every time she closed her eyes she could hear the sound of the car tired screeching as it sped off and her own screams.
***
SWS post connected to this [Getting coffee from hospital vending machine]
When: Early hours Saturday night/Sunday morning.
It had been a late night at the club and the three of them had been larking around as they closed up. Brea couldn’t help but think how nice it was to see her brother so relaxed and having fun, and Topher always seemed to bring out the slightly competitive side in him.
The two of them had been arguing over music while they finished cleaning the glasses and wiping down tables, trying to out do one another on the knowledge they had. And once the place was clean they decided to have a couple of beers, and out came the guitars. Brea listened to the two of them, battling tunes on the guitars for a while before it turned into the two of them just jamming together and having a bit of a sing song. Topher was a lot like her brother in too many ways. The wild hair, large bushy eyebrows, the stubble and also their love for music that never seemed to fade. The two boys had often talked about the album Albert had been paid to make, and how it was a shame the company had gone bust before it had been released. And as they talked, so animated, Albert reminded Brea of a boy he’d been years ago.
Blinking back tears, Brea looked down at the hospital bed, the beeping machines and then the tubes and wires which were all connected to her brother. She wanted nothing more than to rip them all out and take him home, but with what the doctor’s said she knew she couldn’t.
Brea hated hospitals.
Feeling a hand on her own, she turned to see Topher standing beside her. His wrist was broken and one side of his face was cut and bruised. No words passed between them, but the guilt in his eyes was apparent. Shaking her head she leaned against him, closing her eyes as he wrapped his good arm around her. Finally Brea started to cry.
It was 3am by the time she locked up the bar, Topher and Albert were on the pavement beside her play fighting like a couple of 12 year olds, laughing as they did.
“Okay, okay, I surrender…” Topher said as he raised his hands up in defence, trying to catch his breath as he stepped backwards off of the pavement. Bending over he laughed softly and shook his head.
It was Albert who saw the lights of the car.
It was Albert who ran across the road and pushed his friend out of the way.
It was Albert who the car hit…
It was Brea who screamed!
Unable to move, Brea watched as the car hit her brother, not stopping as it swerved down the street away from them. Tears blurred her vision and across the street she could see Topher on the road, cradling his hand while blood trickled from wounds on his face and Albert… he wasn’t moving.
Somewhere in the distance Brea swore she could hear sirens, and then movement down the street as people came out to help.
Having told Topher to go home and rest, Brea finished talking to the cops and told them to go to the bar in the morning and collect the CCTV footage from the bar. Finally left alone she sat in a chair beside her brothers bed and curled up a little, waiting for him to wake up. Willing him to do it. For Brea, this was too much like weeks ago when Triton had come for her to help with Albert’s suicide attempt, only this time she knew she couldn’t make him wake up. Both were things she really didn’t want to talk about.
Every time she closed her eyes she could hear the sound of the car tired screeching as it sped off and her own screams.
***
SWS post connected to this [Getting coffee from hospital vending machine]
