Damien and CiraMature

He watched the young boy as he fell asleep. This family never failed to astound him. Again and again, they bore heavy burdens that they didn't deserve. Softly, he called a nurse in. 

"He should be resting in bed."  He explained, helping her move him properly to his wheelchair. "Just down the hall." 

She nodded, smiling and took him away. Damien turned back to Cira, watching her face for any sign that she might wake up. He'd learned to read all the machines already. Everything was normal. By all rights she should be awake. But something was holding her unconcious. 

"Cira," he murmured "Cira, we all need you here. Quit teasing us and come back already." 

As if she had heard him, her brain waves spiked. Her heart rate picked up. 

He said her name again, the response still there. He grasped her hand tightly before being brushed aside by Doctor Young, who was shouting for nurses to come in, calling Cira's name. Asking all these stupid questions. 

He felt like shouting at him. He wanted to hold Cira's hand. He wanted to see her eyes open. They were flashing lights in her eyes and he wanted to knock them from their hands. She hated stuff on her face and someone had let her hair fall across one cheek. 

In the room, all attention was focused on her. In a flash of irony, Damien muttered aloud. "Cira hates being the centre of attention."


I could hear everything. The doctors telling everyone I was in a coma. A real one this time. Hearing them cry didn't hurt half as much as everyone telling me how much they needed me. I wanted to just hold them close, but it was like my body refused to respond. I couldn't do anything except sit tight and wait. My awareness drifted a fair amount. It was like I'd become nothing more than a whisp of smoke-conciousness. I remembered lots of things; the twins when they were little, playing. My parents sitting front row of my old band's first (and only) gig. Damien. His face when we kissed. Him holding me. 

I could hear his voice a lot, talking to me in the darkness. He cried, I think and that made me feel so guilty. I wanted to hold him and tell him it was okay. If only my body would wake up. And then, when they brought Pho in, I swear my heart should have stopped. I wanted to say so much to him. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't angry anymore. That he was my little brother and I would always love him. That he could never be broken to me. 

I wanted to tell them I was fighting. I wanted so badly to hold them in my arms. Damien whispered something to me and I just felt something slip into my grasp. Suddenly, there was a dim light and I could hear a confused babble of voices. 

One broke through. 

"Cira hates being the centre of attention." 

I wanted to laugh. Damien. Of course. 


Ania. She'd been so quiet. But strong. My little sister. I felt her hand on mine. I wanted to tell them to let Damien through. Maybe they heard as I felt his on my leg, near the end of the bed. 

"Cira?" Ania asked again. Like she had a question for me. Not panicked, not upset. Just like she wanted help with her homework. I focused on the two hands on my body. And slowly, a  familiar hospital room came into focus. And Damien's face was the first I saw.

"Sorry I kept you waiting." My voice croaked and my mouth flicked into a smile, while Damien looked like he was going to cry or shout or faint or something. Ania giggled and smiled. 

"Don't scare me like that again 'kay?" 

The End

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