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My name is Emily Whitmore. I live in Reagan's Redemption. I hate rude people, bad tippers, people who won't tell me if I have brocoli in my teeth, liars in general, mean people.... Ohhh, a lot of things get under my skin, it all goes back to folk who just weren't raise right. Up until 8 years ago, I was closest to The Turdster, (my baby brother, Michael). He'd say I talked too much and I'm a know it all, but he'd also say I'd have his back in a hearbeat and he could always count on me for ANYTHING. He might say I loved him and he loved me, but not out loud. Out loud he'd tell you that if there wasn't anything good on TV, I wasn't bad company. But that's just the Turdy for you. I remember meeting Sam Kent, that's significant right? The man ruined my brother's face and my life, so I'd say so. I remember Turdy bringing Sam home one day, Sam and his homemade shorts. Sam always thought people should feel for him.... wah.wah. My daddy passed away and my mommy ran off. Thought that should excuse him for being such a little tit, the thing is, it happened when he was like 2. And this is America. Disfunction is the new function of a house. I remember the look he gave me when he knew I wasn't buying it. I also remember my mom telling me not to be such a snotty teenager. Glad Mom isn't around for me to give her that "I-Told-You-So". Uhm...My greatest insecurity is my ability to take care of this mess. I'm so afraid I'm not doing it right, that people look at me and say -- who does she think she's kidding? Michael would be better off as a case file with the state. My greatest strength comes from my greatest insecurity. I will do just about anything for my friends and family. I won't stop when they need me, no matter how hard it gets. I think the word is loyalty. Posts: 243 | Registered: Aug 2008
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Michael has been in a permanant vegetative state for the last eight years, thanks to Sam. Don't get that look on your face -- I hate it when people feel sorry for us. It could have been a lot worse, considering the other two. At least he still has his head.
Right now I'm working two jobs. I bartend nights, and fold cardigans at the Mall during the day. I have a piece of paper that says I'm a Marine Biologist, but when they put Turdy in the Long Term Care Unit up here in Birmingham, I gave up my coastal job for something a little closer. I work nights around the block from the hospital so I'll be the first person Michael sees when he wakes up. It's not grand, but its a life. And I'm doing the best I can. I don't know if that makes me take-charge or not.
I had a strange visit the other day. Sam Kent's doctor drove down from Bowling Green with these surveilence tapes from Sam's room. I won't go into the details, or else I might be locked up right along with him. But something strange is going on in that cell. I think my answer is there. You're probably thinking all of this is starting to make me crack up. I'm not sure I disagree. Crazy ideas like this are often born of desperate situations. The truth is, I can feel it. Something inside of Sam's cell is calling to me and I know its right.
[This message has been edited by Reagansgame (edited August 28, 2008).]
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