I Saved My Sister, So They Drowned Me Chapter 09
I stayed in the hospital for nine days.
Starting from the fourth day, they came every single day.
Mom.
Dad.
Lily.
They took turns sitting on the bench outside my room.
I didn’t let them come in.
It wasn’t hatred.
I was simply exhausted.
Every time I saw their faces, my mind would automatically start replaying those scenes.
“Just helping out.”
“Attention seeker.”
“Don’t come back.”
Like a broken tape stuck on the same line.
Replaying itself again and again.
On the morning of the fifth day, Mom crouched outside my door for four hours.
The nurse came out three times to persuade her.
She refused to leave.
At noon, she finally spoke through the door.
“Nina, Mom was wrong.”
Her voice was quiet.
Nothing like the woman I knew.
“Mom shouldn’t have called you an attention seeker.”
“You weren’t.”
“Mom knows you were more exhausted than anyone.”
“Mom just…”
“Mom doesn’t even know why…”
“I always thought you were the one who was mature from a young age.”
“The one who never needed anyone to worry about her.”
“Lily was different.”
“She had always been a child who cried easily and needed someone watching over her.”
“If no one took care of her, something would happen.”
“So I put all my attention on her…”
“I thought you didn’t need anyone to take care of you.”
Her voice broke.
“Turns out it wasn’t that you didn’t need anyone.”
“You were just too afraid to ask.”
“And I was the one who made you afraid to ask.”
The hallway went silent.
I lay on the hospital bed and stared at the ceiling.
Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes and disappeared into the pillow.
Not because I was touched.
Because it was too late.
Every word she said was true.
But it was too late.
On the evening of the seventh day, Lily came alone.
She didn’t knock.
Something was pushed through the gap beneath the door.
I turned my head and looked.
A piece of paper.
Folded into a perfect square.
I hesitated for a long time.
Then I got out of bed, picked it up, and opened it.
It was Lily’s handwriting.
Uneven.
Messy.
Some parts of the ink had blurred.
Soaked by tears.
“Nina, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m writing it down.”
“I saw the Notes on your phone.”
“I read every single one.”
“After reading them, I thought back on everything that happened over these seven months.”
“When you sat beside my bed at two in the morning, I never once thanked you.”
“When you warmed my milk and checked the temperature for me, I got annoyed and thought you were being a bother.”
“When you saved my gray hoodie for me, I didn’t even look at you.”
“When I told my friends you were just helping out, you might have been standing in the room next door listening.”
“When I posted on Instagram thanking everyone who stayed by my side, I didn’t even mention the one person I should have thanked above everyone else.”
“Nina, I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“But maybe not doing it on purpose is even worse than doing it intentionally.”
“Because it means that everything you did for me wasn’t even something I consciously ignored.”
“I truly didn’t see it.”
“I’m sorry.”
At the bottom of the paper, she drew something.
It was badly drawn.
An orange.
Beside it, she wrote a small sentence.
“I don’t know what you like.”
“But Aunt Rachel said there were orange peels beside your pillow.”
I folded the paper carefully.
And placed it under my pillow.
I didn’t say anything.
But I realized my hands had stopped shaking.
The ninth day.
Discharge.
While I was completing the paperwork, the nurse handed me a plastic bag.
Inside were the white canvas sneakers.
Someone had cleaned the mud off.
But the yellow stains on the shoes couldn’t be washed away.
The shoelace on the right shoe was still tied in the knot I had made that night.
I took them.
I didn’t put them on.
I held them under my arm.
And walked out of the Hospitalization Department.
Three people were waiting outside.
Mom.
Dad.
Lily.
Mom’s eyes were swollen until they were almost closed.
She was holding a bouquet of flowers.
Dad stood behind her.
His lips moved slightly.
But no words came out.
Lily stood the farthest away.
Her hands were behind her back.
When she saw me come out, she took half a step forward.
Then stopped.
I looked at them.
They looked back at me.
The air stayed still for a long time.
In the end, I was the one who spoke first.
“I’m not going back with you.”
My voice was calm.
Mom’s lips moved.
“Nina…”
“I don’t hate you.”
I looked at her.
“But I’m tired.”
“I need some time alone.”
“Where will you go?”
Dad’s voice was hoarse.
“I don’t know yet.”
“I’ll figure it out after I leave.”
I turned around.
After walking a few steps, I stopped.
Then I looked back.
Lily was standing there.
Tears covered her face.
She didn’t say a word.
I looked at her for a few seconds.
“The seasons are changing.”
“Remember to get some sunlight.”
Then I turned around.
And walked away.
Without looking back.
When I walked out of the Hospitalization Department, I saw someone sitting beside the flower bed.
Her hair was completely white.
She held a cane.
It was Evelyn Harper.
She didn’t stand up.
She didn’t say anything.
She simply reached into the cloth bag beside her.
And took out an orange.
She placed it on the stone ledge beside the flower bed.
Then she smiled.
Nodded at me.
I walked over.
Picked up the orange.
And put it into my pocket.
As I passed by her, I said:
“Thank you.”
She didn’t answer.
She only tapped her cane gently.
Then slowly stood up.
And walked in the opposite direction.