Still has no title (an Original story)

I paced the corridors of floor 13 at the small hospital in our town. Any occasional doctor or nurse that passed by hurriedly would smile at me. I stayed here from as soon as I got out of school and until I was too tired and gave in to sleep. Rules of the hospital were only one visitor could see the patient at the time. My older sister, Crysanthem, was who stayed in the room watching father's deep sleep. Meanwhile, one of the young nurse boys courted her. I knew from the way he watched her... A nurse, he could have any rich girl but he chose my poor, almost orphan sister.

My father's doctor just came out, he held a piece of bread in his hand. He sat next to me and gave me the piece of bread. He stroked my long, black hair as I devoured the piece of bread.

"Rainbows," was his nickname for me ,"how was school today?"
"A boy gave me a piece of paper with a heart on it." I answered.
" Haha that's cute."
" No, boys are yucky."
He laughed at my childish comment "I'm a boy too, you know."

"But you don't pick your boogers and give girls papers with hearts." I giggled.
" Not that you know of. "
"I'm sleepy" After a while, I said. He was about to put his arm around my shoulders, when the same moment, Crysanthem walked out of the door that led to dad's bed.

"Get your arms off my little sister!" she screamed at the doctor. "You disgust me. A married man looking that way at a ten year old girl!"

The doctor tried to explain but Crysanthem dragged me by the left arm and didn't let go off me until we were at home, safe with out doors locked. To think about it, I wish I could be like her. Crysanthem is the type of of girl with golden skin, black curls and gorgeous chocolate brown eyes. She's smart and easy to get along with. Then it was almost impossible to tell that we were siblings. I was the chubby, guy-looking girl. My hair wasn't curled, just a perfectly flat black blob. Not even my name could compete with hers, she was named after a flower. I was simply "Audrey".

"What did that demon do to you?" She asked.
"He just talked to me, like you say I should do when dads relatives pass by." I answered.
"No, no Audy. That man isn't to be treated nicely. He's bad."
"He's bad? But he can't be... He's my only friend."
"What about the other kids at school?"
"They dont talk to me."
"Why would that be? Have you been pranking lately, sister?"

"Not because of that. It's because I'm a class two." I said. Her face turned bright red and she left me alone in the living room. What could possibly be wrong? Classes aren't all that bad. Basically, those who are overachievers get to be class one. The rich, the nurses, doctors, shop owners. Those who just give normal effort are made into class two, like mother and father.

Either class you fall in determines your life. Your class is determined by your academic performance, once you reach year eleven. I fear that day. I know that when it's Chrysanthems, she will undoubtedly fall in class one and my life will improve for three years. Yet when it's my turn, I will go back to class two. Undoubtedly.

There is a knock in our door. I don't even hesitate to open, that's her business. She's always told me not to open the door to anyone. She peeks through the peephole, while standing on her tiptoes. I can't even reach like that. It's clear the hole was made for people like father, with great height. Of what we can remember, mother had a relatively small frame. She wouldn't be able to see either. I miss her.

It seems she knows the visit, because she opens the door. The doctor enters with a solemn face and hands her a paper, she unfolds it. I thought it was a paper with a heart, but it seemed it wasn't because she didn't chase him away. Instead, she pressed tight into his chest and sobbed. What was wrong? I deserved to know who made my sister cry. It didn't take too long for me to figure out when I saw the black bow on the third window on on floor thirteen of the hospital.

Then I collapsed too. I hit my head so hard, anything that happened after, I won't remember.

Then I open my eyes, I'm not ten anymore. The nightmare has ended. Not a nightmare, I tell myself. A memory.