What I Didnt Hear Pt 07

1All characters in the story are 18 and above. This is a story of incest between a brother and a sister. If that's not what you are here for, I would suggest you not read any further. Also, to understand what is going on, I suggest you start from chapter 1 if you just found this story.

Happy reading!

BHW

Chapter 7

Waking up the following morning was like Deja Vu. Hot, sweaty, hungover, having to piss like a racehorse, and a pounding headache with Katie nowhere to be found.

"What do I have to do to get someone to turn the air condition on around here?" I called out angrily and expecting my question to go unanswered, to which it did.

Kicking and flailing around like an idiot, I finally freed myself from the covers and stomped off towards the bathroom. Still pissed, sitting on the commode, something I found myself doing more and more lately, I contemplated whether to take a shower or not. There was no need if we were going straight to the beach.

"Honey, are you awake?" Katie asked, entering the room.

"No, I'm sleepwalking. What the hell do you think? And what the hell is wrong with the air conditioner, is it broken?" I growled.

The silence that followed was short-lived as Katie began to cry softly. What a fucking asshole you are. Could you be any more of a dick? I thought, hearing her sniffling from the bedroom. The number of angry questions I asked did nothing but cause her to shut down and cry. I knew better than to even raise my voice. She sobbed at commercials like they were true stories. Her crying was the runner-up to her morning sickness and a constant in our life since becoming pregnant. Just sitting there getting more and more pissed that she was still crying, I took a few deep breaths, flushed the commode, and headed toward the bedroom.

"Baby, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I'm just being a dick for no reason. I have hands and feet. I know how to get up off my fat ass and turn the air conditioner down." The harsh words I said about myself only matters worse.

"No, you're not. Please don't say that," her sobbing showed no signs of slowing down.

I apologized profusely the whole time while stroking her hair, and after ten minutes of holding her, she calmed down. Even though it killed me inside to speak to her this way, it wouldn't be the last time I talked to her that way.

"Wanna go to the beach?" She asked happily. It was like the flick of a light switch, her mood now cheerful and giddy.

"Yup," I replied with the same enthusiasm, even though the pounding in my head only seemed to get worse. A recurring occurrence over the last few months.

The rest of the week was filled with several more blow-ups toward my family and my need to consume as much alcohol I could get my hands on to drown out the headache from the previous night of drinking. Katie began to distance herself far away from me, I was taking everything out on her, and the more I did, the more I was scolded by our parents. My anger issues started to become a huge problem. By the time our vacation was over, I had been cut out of all the family activities and left to my own accord.

The flight home was no different, and I scolded Katie for leaving me out of everything and not standing by me. Katie only had to deal with me on the first leg of our trip home. Once we stopped in Ft. Lauderdale, she changed seats with our mother, and I had to listen to her tell me that I needed to control my drinking, along with many other things. I couldn't wait to land, and when we did while they were waiting for our checked bags, I took a cab home just to get away for a minute to try and calm down. Apologizing to them would be a good start; I thought, now that the two aspirin's had done their job and my headache was all but gone.

Over dinner, I laid the groundwork for what I thought would become our starting over point, but after several glasses of wine with our father throughout dinner, it was short-lived. Our mother was still upset about my behavior and attitude over vacation. She was not going to let me off that easy.

"Honey, would you like to go to bed and relax?" Katie asked. "It's been a long day, and I think if we just get a good night's sleep in our bed, it will make all the difference."

"Maybe you're right. We all need a good night's sleep, so we're not so judgmental," I hissed, getting up from the table.

"Connor, let's calm down. Nobody is judging you, and your mother is just upset with how you have treated us over the last few days. It happens to the best of us, so please get some rest, and tomorrow we can all just take it easy. How does that sound?" Our father asked.

The alcohol was doing the talking for me. "It sounds to me like somebody needs to get their wife in check," I said sarcastically.

"Connor!" Our mother hissed at me.

"Just calling it as I see it," I shot back and walking toward my room.

Standing in our bedroom doorway, I could hear her talking to our father about how I was acting and if Katie was safe sleeping in the same room with me. Mom was a little too loud with her questions, and Dad asked her to lower her voice so that I wouldn't hear her. He was mainly trying to defuse the conversation, but I could hear everything and instantly felt like shit. Am I pregnant? I asked myself, standing there with my own emotions like a rollercoaster.

"Let's take a shower so that we can sleep comfortably," Katie said, getting my attention on her and not our mother, who was clearly pissing me off.

The thought of hurting my wife, my beautiful little sister, had never even crossed my mind. I would never do such a thing, and hearing our mother say those things about me began to hurt. Sliding down the door frame, I began to sob at the thoughts of my family, thinking I would abuse her. I would die before I would consider doing such an act, but I couldn't go back in there right now because all it would do was start a huge fight.

"Baby, it's ok. I don't feel unsafe with you," Katie said, knowing I heard everything our mother said. "I love you, and I know for a fact that you would never hit me. I don't want to make you angry, but the words you use toward me do hurt. I wish you wouldn't speak to me that way because it is painful," Katie said, unsure of the response she was about to get.

"I'm sorry," I said, wiping the tears from my eyes and standing to my feet. "I would never...," I tried to get out the words, but the pain I was feeling began to overwhelm me, and the flood gates opened again just as I crawled into bed and passed out.

The following week wasn't any better. I was sent home twice from work by my father because of my drinking. I was turning into a raging alcoholic, and it wasn't pretty. Katie did everything she could to help me. She even enabled me, helped me hide the smell of alcohol with mints and small bottles of mouthwash I could take to work. She did any and everything she could do to keep me happy and not mad at her, even though it never worked.

Moving into the guest room that weekend, tired of hearing our mother bitch at me for making Katie cry, put me on a downward spiral. Now locked away in my own room, it was easier to conceal my drinking late into the night. Several times in the early morning hours, I found myself drunk and laying outside Katie's door, listening to her sob. She began to leave her door open to hear if I was ok after finding me passed out on the floor in my own vomit.

Two days after being put on personal leave from my job and missing Katie's six-month ultrasound appointment, my parents and Katie forced me into rehab. I was drinking every day and all day. It only made me feel more alienated. Feeling everyone had abandoned me, I checked myself out the same day and set out in search of something to cure this headache hangover. I stopped at the first liquor store, grabbed the largest bottle, the twenty dollars I had in my pocket could buy and headed for cowardly peace.

The more I drank, the more upset I became. My long walk wasn't doing anything to help my anxiety or anger toward them, and I questioned everything. Do they even love me? Do they even care if I die? With the realization that I just didn't care anymore, I picked up my walking pace.

Finally, with the base of the Ravenel Bridge under my feet and my bottle of liquor almost gone. I started the trek up the long bridge. The late August sun was relentless, and by the time I reached the top, sweaty and gasping for air, I was too tired to climb over the six-foot fence. All my strength was used on the walk-up. I felt confused, dizzy, nauseous, and my head was killing me.

"Hey, man, are you ok?" a passerby asked, just before I blacked out.

**

My dry mouth was the first thing I noticed, followed by the constant beeping. The amount of effort it took to get my eyes open was exhausting, but I managed to do it after two failed attempts. Katie laid curled up, asleep in the bed next to me. While our parents didn't have the same luxury Katie had, they did the second-best thing, using each other to keep themselves upright on the small couch and currently asleep.

Realizing I was alive gave me a short sense of relief. What a dumb idea that was, I thought. Darting my eyes around the room and seeing the countless amount of machines hooked to me all but wiped that away.

"Ugg," I moaned, trying and failing to move even the slightest bit.

"It's me, baby, Katie. Everything is ok, but I need to go and get the doctor real quick. I'll be right back. I love you so much," she said and hurried out of the room, only stopping to tell our parents, "He's awake."

"Hey buddy, how are you feeling?" My father asked, wrapping his hands around mine. By the tired look on his face, I imagined he had done a lot of that during my hospital stay.

Biting down on the soft tube that protruded from my dry, cracked lips, I knew my words wouldn't come, so I just nodded my head up and down. How I really felt was as if someone was sitting on my head. The pressure was immense, but I had very little pain. The vast amount of noisy machines hooked to me probably had something to do with that.

"Hi, Connor, it's mom...," her voice trailed off as the doctor entered the room.

"Hello Connor, my name is Doctor Mullens. I'm here to check on your progress and see how you're feeling now that you're awake. I'll go over everything that has happened, but first, I need to ask you a series of yes or no questions. All I need you to do is blink once for yes and twice for no. Do you think you can do that?"

With a single blink, he started the questioning. Most of the questions required a single blink. "Are you in South Carolina? Are you married? Is your wife in the room? Are your parents in the room? Do you know long you've been here? Are you in pain?"

"Now, I need you to do a few things for me. Can you wiggle your toes? Good. Now your fingers, perfect. Does it hurt when I press here?" Two blinks. "How about here?" Another two blinks.

"Perfect, let's see that head of yours."

The doctor spent the next few minutes unwrapping and rewrapping the bandage around my head after giving it a thorough examination.

"Everything looks to be healing nicely, and I'll get a nurse to come in after I leave to remove the tube from your mouth. It'll take a few weeks to get your entire vocal range back, but it should come back without any problems. Just no yelling until then, and you should be fine. I'll have the nurse go over everything with you when she removes it, and as long as the swelling in your brain stays down, we should have you out of here in the next week or so."

The tears of joy that streamed over Katie's round cheeks as she smiled made me feel slightly better, but I still didn't know what happened.

"So, Connor, as I said, I'm Dr. Mullens, and I'm the neurosurgeon the operated on your brain after the fall from your heatstroke,"

Heatstroke, I thought for just a brief second.

"You hit your head pretty hard on a raised concrete anchor for the bridge. Other than the few stitches and a headache, you would've been fine and released in a few days," Dr. Mullens said.

A few days, what the hell. How long have I been here? The thoughts came and went.

"When a patient hits their head that hard, we like to do an MRI to make sure there's no swelling on the brain. When we did that, we found some moderate swelling, but our main concern was the tumor. That's the scary part."

Scanning the faces of my parents and Katie, I didn't see worry or panic through the tears. That had to be a good sign.

"The good part is we were able to remove it, and after we ran some tests in the lab. We found it to be a Grade I Meningioma tumor. Grade I Meningioma tumors are low grade tumors. This means the tumor cells grow slowly and invade nearby normal tissue. Like yours, and many other cases, they form over years before being diagnosed. After talking to your wife, she said you have been getting some intense headaches, behavior, and personality changes. The tumor was the cause of those, but now that we removed it, those will be a thing of the past. I'm certain you will have plenty of questions, and I'll be sure to answer those, but for now, get some rest, and I'll be by to check on you tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, doctor," Katie said, followed by our parents repeating the same thing.

The looks on their faces told me everything I needed to know. How sorry they were, even though they didn't have to, I was the one being a dick. I felt terrible for them, and I wanted to tell them it was ok, but the only thing I could manage to do was cry. Each tear that rolled down my face only seemed to make matters worse. The moment was too tremendous, and Katie tear covered face became pale. She looked like she was going to pass out. I began to dart my eyes back and forth between our father and her to get his attention. He just made to her as her legs went limp, and he lowered Katie to the couch he was sleeping on. The machines began to beep, and within seconds, nurses swarmed me.

What seemed like just minutes was actually two hours as I woke up from whatever medicine the nurse gave to calm me down. Katie was curled up next to me, asleep, as was our mother on the couch. I watched our father pace back and forth in front of the window he was aimlessly staring out of. Now that he thought everyone was asleep, the emotions overtook him as I watched him repeatedly wipe the tears in his eyes from the reflection on the inside window.

I didn't sleep much that night and neither did Katie nor our parents from all the nurses coming in and out of the room, but that was ok. I had my family back, even though they looked exhausted. Our father's face looked less and less worrisome each time he looked into my eyes. The toll this took on him was something I would never wish on anyone. The regret on his face from all the wasted years we didn't spend together was what hurt me most. He thought he lost his only son, and the time he didn't spend with me was coming out. We never talked about the small moment we shared that night. It was painful for both of us, but our father/son bond would never be broken from that day forward.

"I love you too, so much," Katie said, circling my lips with an ice chip as I mouthed the words I love you after the nurse removed the tube from my mouth.

The following morning, I was more alert and able to eat a few spoonfuls of ice cream. It was glorious. My voice was faint, but if you got close enough, you could hear me. I was under strict instructions to not whisper and to try to speak normally. It would take a few days before it would get better, but I was assured it would come back. Each day I became a little stronger, and by the sixth day, I was able to walk to the bathroom by myself. Katie never left the hospital the entire time I was there. Which by the time I left was just over a month.

The first week, I was put into an induced coma to help the moderate brain swelling decrease so that the surgeon could perform surgery on my brain. After the surgery was completed, I was again placed in an induced coma to keep my brain activity at a minimum to help reduce swelling. When I awoke to the dry mouth, I had already been in the hospital for seventeen days. Now seven months pregnant, Katie and our parents walked beside the wheelchair as the nurse rolled me towards the hospital's front door. I was more than ready to go home and sleep in my own bed.

"Remember no strenuous activities, no driving, and take it easy. Ok?" The nurse said to me as I buckled my seatbelt.

"Yup," I replied with a smile.

With plenty of medicine to keep my pain at a tolerable level, sleep seemed to be my biggest problem. Not that I didn't get enough of it; if sleeping was an Olympic sport, I was sure to win gold. I was only managing to stay awake a total of nine hours a day if I was lucky.

It would pass just like my lack of energy, and within a few weeks, the doctor had released me from most limitations, including sex. Still, I couldn't drive, ride a bicycle, climb ladders or compete in any hand-to-hand combat sports. Basically, anything that had a high chance of me hitting my head. The doctor made sure I understood not to hit my head.

Even though I was released to go back to work and all had been forgiven, I still didn't want to go. I wanted to spend time with Katie, and being eight months along in her pregnancy, she was not as active as she had been. We had changed roles, and she was the one napping throughout the day. I still found myself napping with her, even though I didn't need to.

*

Leaving her now twice a week appointment, an extra precaution, since she had not gained the weight back she lost while I was in the hospital. We hit the drive-thru at her favorite sandwich shop to get a mustard and pickle sandwich with extra pickles on the side, a condiment we both equally hated before she was expecting, and a large orange juice. She had some of the craziest cravings, and the things she wanted to smell were even worse. The most bizarre thing was the smell of an ashtray. I would never understand it, and neither would our parents, but I would let her steal a whiff when nobody was looking when we ate at a favorite local seafood restaurant and bar.

"What?" She mumbled with a mouthful of pickles sitting at the kitchen table.

"I didn't say anything, but you better brush your teeth before you try and kiss me," I smiled as she leaned over and tried to kiss me.

"You don't want to kiss your beautiful wife's lips with a mouth full of pickles?" She giggled, having now swallowed them.

"Hell no, but if you hurry up and finish, I'll kiss your other lips."

Her eyes went wide, and she acted as if she was trying to shove the remainder of her sandwich into her small mouth. This was my first sober attempt in months to have sex with her. It even felt awkward to say the words, but I was determined to make it happen.

Having stripped from her clothing and brushed her teeth, she crawled into bed and laid back on the couple of pillows I had placed on top of each other, so she didn't have to lay flat on her back. Her belly had significantly grown over the last two months, and I found myself not knowing what to do.

"It's ok, baby. You're not going to hurt me," she said, seeing the worried look on my face.

Nodding my head, I crawled between her legs.

"Sorry if I missed any spots," she said.

"Huh."

"Shaving. Sorry if I missed any spots shaving," she replied.

It was something I hadn't even noticed--the large amount of hair just above the lips of her sex.

"When did we get a cat?" I joked.

"Haha, very funny," she giggled.

With a flick of my tongue on her swollen clit, her giggles were replaced by a long sensual moan. I had missed the taste of my little sister, and I was going to take my time lapping up her juices. The more I drug my tongue slowly through the folds of her sex, the louder her moaning became. Just when I began to break out my best moves, her orgasm hit her hard and fast.