I reach down and fix what wrinkles that Rebecca just put in my sock and pick myself up. I yawn, still a little tired from just waking up from the night before. It's been at least 9 hours since I fell asleep, but I'm always tired, in some form, during the day. I think it's a family trait, to be honest. My father was tired all the time, too. He was tired much more often than I seem to be, but still, that's the only connection I can possibly think of for why I'm so tired all the time. I don't eat badly, I take vitamins and everything. I'm not sure. It lingers in my head as I start to walk downstairs.

I walk down the stairs, hearing her feet running all over the house already. How can she so full of energy this early in the morning? You'd think that she would run out of energy quicker than I would, since running across the house once for her would be more like running across it three times for someone my height. I just hope she never runs out of that energy. She wants to do something that might be a little dangerous for her, this morning. She wants to help make breakfast and, depending on what she wants to make, the environment might be a little dangerous for her, concerning burners and pans.

I get down and start walking towards the kitchen, when I hear a dragging sound, like metal scraping against something. My eyebrow raises up and I start walking a little faster, trying to get into the kitchen to see what's going on. Once I arrive, I see Rebecca, dragging one of the bar stools across the floor, the floor pads for the legs left behind, on the floor. The sound of the jagged bottoms of the stool legs is grinding through my head, about to give me a headache. I reach forward, standing behind Rebecca and put my hands on the stool. “Please, stop!” I call out, the pain of my coming headache starting to irritate me. “Just let me pick it up. That noise is killing me!”

Rebecca, in her actions to drag the stool, lets go as my hands put pressure on it, and she falls backwards, hitting her back against my leg. She lets out a whine for a second, and then jumps right back up. “No way! I want to get it over to the counter where the stove is all by myself. I don't want you to help at all! If you can't take the noise, then hold your ears or something! I'm going to do as much of this on my own as possible. You're going to have to deal with it!” She sounds so...assertive when she's like this. It's like she doesn't care what problems would happen, so long as she can do what she is aiming to do. I slowly let go of the stool and agree to let her do it, walking out of the kitchen, in the process. If she's going to be making all that noise, I don't want to be anywhere near it.

I get through the hall and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me before I start hearing that noise again. At least it's muffled, with all of these doors shut. I get headaches easily, and having noises like that around doesn't help my head at all. My head starts pounding, every beat of my heart a painful strain on the sides of my head. I quickly pop in a capsule of Ibuprofen, hoping to kill the headache before it gets to a bad spot. The noise lasts for a few minutes, though it feels like half an hour or more. By the time it does stop, I look up and take a deep breath. I look at myself, in the mirror, before turning, knowing that I need to go back to the kitchen.

By the time I get back, Rebecca's already on top of the stool, half her body dangling over one of the burners. Her arms are out, reaching for the dials that turn those burners on. “No! Wait!” I yell as I run across the kitchen. I don't care about letting her do things right now. She's trying to do too much. My arms come down and I pull her out of the chair. My arms wrap around her and I squeeze her into my body as I keep myself away from the stove. I can feel her moving around, trying to break free. I know she's about to yell back at me, most likely, but I'll take yelling over her being hurt.

She does yell at me. As she squirms in my grip, she asks me why she moved me and tells me to put her down. I get down on my butt and shake my head in response to this. “Not until I know that you're going to be safe. You were half-dangling over the stove, Rebecca! You could've gotten your shirt stuck in the burner! If I'd stayed in the bathroom longer, I might not have had a Rebecca to come out and see! You have to be more careful, from now on.” I'm not willing to let her go. Not just yet. It's easy to burn myself on that stove, but even easier for her, and the fact that her skin is thinner than mine. A mild burn for me could be fatal for her. I don't want that to happen.

She keeps going, saying that she would have been just fine. She even mentions that I would have come out and gotten her out of it, even if she did get stuck. She has faith in me, that's for sure. I like that, but it still doesn't make what she did any easier. “...but what it you accidentally fell off when breaking free from the stove?! What if you burned your hand beyond my abilities to fix it?! I know you want to be independent. I know you want to do stuff without my help, but not this!” As I talk to her, my grip slightly tightens, my face starting to get emotional. “Don't do anything dangerous without me. Don't scare me...”

“Scare you? All I did was try to turn the burner on!” She sounds confused, as if she doesn't know what really scared me just now. The truth is that I am scared, even right now. Seeing Rebecca so close to burning and fatally hurting herself did something inside me. I dropped all ideas of letting her do that on her own and went straight into a mindset of wanting her out of that scenario as soon as possible. I respect her, but I won't push respect above her personal safety. When I saw her like that, I got scared that she was going to get hurt, or killed.

“All you did was almost get yourself killed!” I say, my voice starting to crack. All I can think about is the idea of not having her around, or having her hurt or worse when I am just in the other room. My head leans down and I hold her in place. “I would never forgive myself if you were left alone and you got hurt in this house. You almost got hurt right now, and that's why I'm not putting you down. You scared me because I...I don't want anything to happen to you. You're...too important to me...”