(Esmee) it's the winning that counts (mi's side)

It’s the winning that counts

There where a hundred million things I should and could have said to Mi but my body wouldn’t let the comfort I should have provided come out of my mouth. My training in all fairness could sometimes come in handy in these situations, I new how to deal with the enclosure of any type of abuse I had done the role play aced the written work and more yet it still didn’t prepare me for the first time someone in apple gate house told me how her uncle abused her and nothing could make it OK as I watched that uncle walk free from court because there was a lack of evidence and now once again I had been knocked of my feet by the abuse of a child, it appeared that even the on the job experiences with real patients could prepare you for abuse your little sister suffered and right here right now that was all I was, nothing with no words and no way to make her pain go away or make her forget it all; in fact even with out my own tears at the particular time I would still be useless to her.

“I made you cry again, that seams to be the one thing I’m good at; great.” I hear Mi moan dully from up on the bed as tried to counteract my crying, Mi wasn’t well enough yet to know I was crying for her and not because of her; sometime it was like looking after a baby with little or no life skill that was trapped in a teenagers body.

“You didn’t make me cry.” I countered looking up form my hands and wiping the tears off of my cheeks with my thumb and rubbing my eyes gently to try and counter any redness that I may have caused.

“I didn’t mean to shout at you Esmee.”

“It’s OK.” I lied, I couldn’t tell her how much it actually hurt because I didn’t actually want to hurt her and I also couldn’t believe it my self how much it hurt; I used to be so strong and solid how had she changed me?

“I had to give you that chance, I had to fight one more time for you but I think I am done now, that was my last stand, I can’t fight to save you any more, I’m to tired, Mi moaned closing her eyes slowly her body still and against the bed.

It was true she did look so tired lying there like she had be fighting forever and even though it was much more likely she wouldn’t actually die now from her latest suicide attempt I feared at that moment as she lied there her spirit and soul where about to slip away forever and what could I do alone to revive it? Suddenly keeping alive the physical body seemed so much easier then it did ten not so long ago; I couldn’t perform CPR on a soul.

“Who are you trying to save me from?

“How many times Esmee, how loud have I got to shout it at you? You say your going to fight for me and I keep trying to get you to walk away because you can’t fight and win a battle that has all ready been lost, and I know every one says it isn’t the winning that counts but lets face it when you work so heard for it and you don’t measure up and you lose it hurts like hell really, every one wants to win; what would be the point of competition if they didn’t