The bruise on Dolores’ thigh grew by the minute. She scratched and scratched, tried to put pressure on the wound, but it just kept spreading its darkness over her leg. She heard footsteps coming down the stairs. She lowered her skirt to hide the wound. Her sister Helen entered the kitchen and gave her a gentle but cold embrace.
"Are you okay?" smiled Helen, eyes wide. Dolores just looked at the floor.
"Well?" Helen pressed. "Look, I’m sorry about what happened, but you know you don't have to suffer like this." Dolores lifted her gaze from the floor into Helen's eyes, narrowing beams of hot, vaporizing fury. Helen pretended not to notice the chill she suddenly felt. Their friends and neighbors said Dolores had kind eyes, but they wouldn't think so if they saw her now.
"You know I love you," said Helen.
Dolores sat silent for a while. "I know," she said, looking down at the floor. Her jaw squeezed as she winced at the pain in her leg. It had spread through her body and now throbbed with more intensity. Dolores saw blood streaming down into her sock.
"What's wrong?" asked Helen. "You look pale. Are you hurt? You know I didn't mean to hurt you. You have to know that. Sometimes, I just… if I knew you'd end up like this, I never would have thrown it at you. I'm sorry it hurt you."
Dolores hear that last sentence and couldn't take it anymore. She trembled as she stood up from the table to go to her room. That was when Helen saw the bruise. She quietly gasped.
"Listen," she pleaded, "I'm sorry I threw it at you, but please, consider how I must have felt when I saw it!" Dolores limped up the stairs with Helen right behind her.
"Maybe if you'd just asked me about it," Helen said, "if you had tried to be more loving!" she yelled. "If you just tried to think of me, I wouldn't have done it!"
Dolores barely made it to her bedroom. Helen looked at her sister's pallid face as Dolores collapsed onto her bedroom floor.
“I’m sorry Dolores, but you must have known how it would make me feel, seeing my face look like that!" Next to Dolores lay the sculpture she spent 2 years perfecting—a bust of her beloved sister. But Helen hated it. She said it made her look ugly.
"Are you okay?" smiled Helen, eyes wide. Dolores just looked at the floor.
"Well?" Helen pressed. "Look, I’m sorry about what happened, but you know you don't have to suffer like this." Dolores lifted her gaze from the floor into Helen's eyes, narrowing beams of hot, vaporizing fury. Helen pretended not to notice the chill she suddenly felt. Their friends and neighbors said Dolores had kind eyes, but they wouldn't think so if they saw her now.
"You know I love you," said Helen.
Dolores sat silent for a while. "I know," she said, looking down at the floor. Her jaw squeezed as she winced at the pain in her leg. It had spread through her body and now throbbed with more intensity. Dolores saw blood streaming down into her sock.
"What's wrong?" asked Helen. "You look pale. Are you hurt? You know I didn't mean to hurt you. You have to know that. Sometimes, I just… if I knew you'd end up like this, I never would have thrown it at you. I'm sorry it hurt you."
Dolores hear that last sentence and couldn't take it anymore. She trembled as she stood up from the table to go to her room. That was when Helen saw the bruise. She quietly gasped.
"Listen," she pleaded, "I'm sorry I threw it at you, but please, consider how I must have felt when I saw it!" Dolores limped up the stairs with Helen right behind her.
"Maybe if you'd just asked me about it," Helen said, "if you had tried to be more loving!" she yelled. "If you just tried to think of me, I wouldn't have done it!"
Dolores barely made it to her bedroom. Helen looked at her sister's pallid face as Dolores collapsed onto her bedroom floor.
“I’m sorry Dolores, but you must have known how it would make me feel, seeing my face look like that!" Next to Dolores lay the sculpture she spent 2 years perfecting—a bust of her beloved sister. But Helen hated it. She said it made her look ugly.
Comments
Post a Comment