Losing Touch (Rough Draft)

I pull her trembling arms around my broad waist and embrace her into my welcoming arms. She smiles weakly up at me, as tears glisten in her light gray eyes. I remove a strand of damp hair from her face and put a gentle kiss on her nose. Her pain, fear, anxiety was radiating to me. All the feelings I'd been attempting to keep afar were closing in on me, tightening my chest, churning my stomach. I felt bile oozing up, though I kept it at bay for her sake. Everything I did these days was for her.
"Everything's going to go fine. And I'll be there every step of the way. You know that." She nods subtly and takes a deep, shaky breath. She doesn't look herself, as if she were there no more. she looks as if she had taken her most joyous being out so it wouldn't have to witness what was about to happen. I don't blame her. This will change her, for good or bad, I don't know. I refuse to allow my mind to wander to the bad, the "what if's", the "If only things could change a little." They bring me down, make me cry myself to sleep every night. She hasn't seen me cry. She thinks I'm strong, that I'm the rock of her life. Rocks have emotions, or at least this one does; but when one has an person holding on to them for dear life, emotions are hidden away in the deepest cavities until reprieve can be given.
Listening to the nurse explain the procedure is cruel, the bile choosing this time to make its journey back up my sore throat. I rest my head in my hands and concentrate on the hypnotic pattern of the tiles below my feet. Just put a needle in and let it drip in. Yeah, that's easy, I think to myself, venom coursing through the road map of my mind. Soon enough, the nurse says she's going to start. Her voice is as sullen as our moods are, and I offer Kentasha my hand. She shakes her head and focuses on the nurse's actions.
I hear a deep breath pull into her body as the needle goes in, escaping when it's in place. The nurse says it'll take a while to complete, but it's not like we have anywhere to go. I lift my head when she's gone and look at my sister-the sister I've been with through thick and thin. Life seems to be throwing a lot of thickness our way recently, but we're trudging through thus far. Offering her my hand, she grabs it with her free arm and looks down at how mangled her brother's hand has become. She doesn't pull up my hoodie sleeve for fear of what she'd see. She has to suffer pain, then I will too. I've told her I stopped a long time ago, that those were just bruises from previous sessions. She believes me so far and that's how it's staying.
"Remember the time when I had to have that tooth pulled?" The question is random, her scratchy voice filling the room. The room that will become our best friend, our shield from the rain. The room that offered the only possible ray of sunshine in our dim lives at the moment. This would be the room of miracles, or the room of pain and sorrow. I'm praying for the room to produce the former one.
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Remember how you screamed and cried that the doctor didn't know what he was talking about, that he was a quack and why couldn't they take one of your teeth instead of mine? You sure raised hell to be 9." Her laugh makes me smile as I reminisce. "Sound like any current situation?"
I nod silently. "Yeah. You're my baby sister. What kid gets their tooth pulled at 7? What kid freaking...." my voice trails and trembles rack my large frame. They began cascading quicker and quicker together until I was shaking. I let go of her hand and left the room, breaking down as large sobs broke through the quietness of the hospital. I had to have been out there for 15 minutes or more. When I reentered the room, Kentasha was leaning her head back, half in a doze. Her face was damp and I know she had been crying. I have failed yet again to keep my sister happy.
She looks up at me and smiles. "Tear jerking story huh?"
I don't respond. I sit by her side again and brush her hair. The long, brunette mass was soft and smelled like strawberries. "Go to sleep. You know we can talk on the way home."
"You know that's not gonna happen," she whispers softly. I know, but I'm not going to admit it. My stomach has been doing flips at the thought of what stands ahead. I have everything to make it more comfortable, but from what I've heard, it's not much I can do.
"Well, we'll talk later then. You need to sleep." She hasn't slept in nearly a week aside sporadic naps here and there. I usually stay in her room until she dozes, and fall asleep on her. I continue to apologize, but she has stopped listening. I want to apologize for all she's going through, and all she will go through. I want to apologize for the pain in which I feel I've caused her, but I want to apologize for it not being me going through it. I'm stronger and I can deal with it. Why her?

As expected, the ride home is gruesome. The sound of regurgitation fills my car and I can't stop the tears from falling. I hold her hair as best I can and wonder whether her trembling is normal. "I hate throwing up," she whines.
"I know..It'll stop soon enough." Would it ever stop though? Would this episode be something that would become a part in her life? Would it be the thing to take her life, leaving me alone to mourn and hate myself? If God existed, then this will come out fine..right?

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To be continued...