I'm not sure if this is acceptable. The whole story is more emotional? It's only one scene, but a chunk of explanation and thoughts...Could you tell me if it's acceptable? If not, I can change...
Fallen Butterfly
We were two. Now we are one. That was the first thought that popped into my head as I saw her graceful figure, lying on the bed. The hospital was always painted as a heartwarming white place with nice people, but now it's different. It's actually a blood-thirsty creature, waiting to suck in more to satisfy its bloodthirst. But she won't give in. Not after I have given my own determination to her. When I have given a part of me.
Two years older than me. That was all. But it seemed as though the gap was so big that all the water in the sea couldn't fill it up. Tall-built, and petite. Straightforward and secret-hiding. Disliked and popular. Talkative and quiet. We were different in every way possible. The way people viewed us, the friends we have, and even the paths of life we led.
I had everything, though I never realized it. Upon my birth, my aunts loved me, my parents adored my innocence, and I just had a natural flair with the others. Afterall, I was that fair, small innocent little girl. Compared to the darker-skinned, tall-built, straightforward or rude older sister. I was admitted into the gifted program, while my sister failed the second entrance test. I was appointed a student leader and quit, while my sister prayed for it day and night.
And while I was Ms. Popular to everyone including the children, my sister suffered bites and kicks from even her peers. But all these only had one effect. She hated me. Endless fights, arguments, bruises, punches, and who knows what if our parents did not stop us every time. And everytime, my temper would rise for one line. That one sentence she knew ticked me off. "You're so pampered. By everyone." She would say every time she got angry with me. I never understood why she was angry, but the fire in me burned once I hear those words.
I never thought I'd love her. She was my worst enemy afterall, from the day I was born. I never saw anything...Never thought about anything. Until the butterfly fell. Onto the hard ground.
I secretly called her butterfly. Everyone thought I was nuts when I said it aloud once. My sister always thought herself to be the uglier of us two. The taller, the broader, the darker, the bigger feet, and the list goes on. To her, she was hideous. But to me, she was an angel.
Of course, I fought with her day and night. I fought with her without a care of anything else. But I've always secretly looekd up to her. Yes, I hated her with a passion. But I still looked up to her. I've always thought she was prettier, or so it seemed. So while she called herself a pig, a monster, I called her a butterfly. For she WAS graceful. She had been a gymnast before. And every bit of her was feminine, unlike me, the more tomboyish one in the family.
Butterfly. It never wanders alone. Normally, there's another butterfly with it. Perhaps squabbling, perhaps fighting, but nonetheless there. And everyone who saw the two would know that they were made to be together forever. And that was the way it was with the two of us.
It never struck me until a week ago. The heavy storm sure added to the dramatic effect too. My parents finally told me about my sister, my beloved older sister, who had fallen ill. Critically ill. She fainted that day. We rushed to the hospital and all, and that was also when I saw the bloodhtirsty monster in this innocent facade of a hospital.
Something about her liver I remember. The words were blurred and blotched by the thunder and the sobbing sounds from mum. Next thing I knkew, everything came spilling out. Her diary, her thoughts, everything from the time I was born. It was like opening the dam, and suddenly, there is this huge flood washing over you. The same thing followed with the tears.
It never struck me that she had been jealous. That my own sister had felt inferior to me. It never ocurred to me that for the rest of my life, I'll live with the guilt of having never said...'I love you' to a dying girl, who longed only to be like her younger sister. I never saw the things she did, each time she stood up for me in kindergarten, every night she covered me with a blanket in secret, every birthday she gave me a card or a present.
The tides didn't stop there. It continued as more secrets poured out. How she needed a transplant or she will definitely die. How she had discovered this long ago. How I was the only one who didn't know. And how I was the only one who could save her. And I did, or at least I tried.
I gave her a part of me, a half of my liver. I gave her my will, my soul along with it. I gave her my respect, the respect she deserved for putting up with such a foolish younger sister. But I held back the tears. I couldn't give her the tears too.
I remember the last words I said to her. It was still ringing in my head. "I hate you!" That was the first time I had said it to her face, shouted it really. The room was still later. It was another aftermath of another ground-shattering argument. And the last she heard while conscious.
Lub Dub...Lub dub... I could almost imagine the lines on the screen to be her heartbeat, jumping up and down like I learned in Biology. To be alive. Everything seemed so calm. But you know what they say 'Calm before the storm'. I had to be prepared. Prepared for the gushing of waves, prepared for the final loud continuous beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
My face pressed against the glass, though unwilling to touch anything else in this monstrous place unneccasarily. Everyone was still sobbing, waiting as patiently as they could. But noone could tear me away from the glass. From my own sister. From a part of me.
It went off. Like a siren. And so did something in me. It snapped. "I love you..." Came the whisper. It must have been my imagination. But just then, they announced. The butterfly had fallen.
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