(Hello, everybody~ ovo I'm back again with this little thingamabob. None of you will really know what this is about, as this is exclusively for one person to see. This will be deleted after both parts have been read, so it won't linger long!
Also, this isn't edited, so if you find typos, please forgive me |'D)
The smell of medicine was strong. I didn't expect it to be much like this. Parenthood...well, the beginning. I didn't expect myself to feel so guilty for making her pregnant. It seemed like I was making her go through so much pain. I hated seeing her in pain. She was such a sweet soul.
I looked her in the eyes, seeing a smile in them. I felt a bit better. She was straining. It must be taking a toll on her. Labor always does this to women. I just wasn't sure when it's too much.
I already knew a large group waited outside the hospital room. They were expecting something grand. The twins. I could imagine them now. Sweet and loving. Just like her.
I smiled. "You'll be okay."
She nodded beside me. Another strain.
I brushed her hair back, seeing an appreciative glance at me. Even when in pain, she managed to stay kind.
Even to me. Even when I'd killed so many people.
Through all the sins I'd made, she was still there to hold my hand. She already had so much pain from her condition.
I remember the devastation I had felt when I had learned she had breast cancer. The guilt that raced through my face when I had met her. It was one of the first things she told me. She said it with a smile, as if she were complimenting the weather. She said it as the wind blew between us, the sun just starting to set.
I felt guilty.
After so many people I'd hurt, here was one I didn't even have to touch to hear she was hurt. It wasn't even showing on the outside. It was inside. "I found out at a doctor's visit about a year ago," she had said, watching the sun. "I was terrified."
She said it all with a smile. I could tell she was still scared of it. Then I knew I had loved her. It wasn't much, but she seemed brave and scared at the same time. It was a long silence between us then. I had said nothing the whole time. I remember how thick the silence was to me, yet it seemed like it was nothing to her. Then she finally looked at me.
"I know what you're thinking," she had said, the sun's rays leaving a streak of gold on her face. "You want to say, 'I'm so sorry'."
She was right.
"Don't," she continued. She had turned back to the sun. "Just tell me good luck. When you tell me you're sorry, it's like you've seen my future. And in the future, I've died from cancer. But good luck tells me you've looked and you've seen me alive. Good luck lets me know you're cheering me on. Sorry lets me know that you're thinking I'm going to die."
In the hospital room, I wondered why the memory was so important to me. It came so vividly all of a sudden. "Good luck," I say gently. Her eyes lingered on me, surprise in them. She was straining once more. I pressed my forehead to hers, telling her she was going to be okay. And she was. She was strong. Anyone who can fight cancer is strong.
I gave a kiss to her forehead, my hand lingering on her cheek before I moved it back to her hand. I gave her an affectionate squeeze. "You'll be okay," I said again. "You'll be okay."
My memories came back. I remember how happy she seemed when I finally managed to tell her I loved her. I had said it with practiced caution. She gave no hesitation to her smile. That's how she always was. She never hesitated to a beaming smile. She had hugged me tightly, saying things with such a happy tone. I couldn't help but smile, hugging her back. She was so very happy. I was on cloud nine. She gave me a kiss on the cheek, hugging me again. I had never felt better.
I was pulled from the memory when my phone lit up. Augustine.
A text on the screen read, "How's she doing?"
I quickly texted back with my free hand. "Okay."
"How about you, Dez? How are you holding up?"
"Fine."
"Busy?"
"Yes."
He took longer to respond this time. "Text if something goes wrong." I wasn't able to respond, as a nurse took the phone from me. She looked cross. I returned my attention to her.
"Donna." Years ago I had heard her say that.
"That's a nice name." She had smiled. It was a sweet, polite smile.
"What about yours?"
"Desmond. Desmond Gorman."
"Oh, nice. We both have 'D' in our name." She smiled again. "We can be friends, if you'd like."
"Sure." I had smiled, though to be polite. I had met her on the way to complete on contract. Then I still had my mistake on my mind. I didn't pull the trigger on Bulma. Alker, my boss, didn't know. She figured she was dead. Thank God she didn't watch the news.
Donna had seen me pull the trigger on someone. It wasn't far from where she lived, evidently. Walking home from work, she had seen me terminate my target without hesitation near the tracks of a train. The body had fallen without a sound, but somehow Donna managed to know. She had given me a look.
There wasn't any hate in it. Nothing negative. Nothing positive. Completely neutral. She continued walking home.
I heard my phone vibrate for another text from Augustine. It was in the nurse's hands now, so she responded. I looked at Donna. She looked concerned at me, despite her own situation. I pulled a smile.
She gave a questionable look before she had to push again. I could tell she was in a lot of pain. I pressed my lips to her temple. "You'll be okay."
She nodded. Those three words were pulling her through. That's what I always said to her at any doctor appointments. Every chemo and surgery. Those three words pulled her through. That was all she needed. All she needed to know was that she was going to be okay. And I knew she would be. She was strong. She was fighting.
Somehow that brought me to one argument we had. The argument that turned my life around. We'd been together for only five months. But she seemed...afraid.
It was all about the person I had killed at the tracks. The day I had first met her.
I tried to explain to her that it was just my job. She had gone silent. She had tears.
"You're making me afraid of you," she had said. And those words stung. It felt like someone had placed a white-hot coal on my chest. She had said those six words so quietly, barely above a whisper, yet she had managed to hit me so hard. I remember not responding. Her small hands were in fists. She was shaking.
"Seeing you kill someone made me scared of you. I love you, but...I don't want you to play me like that. I don't want you to shoot me dead in the back just for your job." I recall hugging her tightly. She ended up allowing me to. She had sobbed into my chest when I gently put my chin on top of her head. Her shoulders that I had thought frail were shaking. I had never seen her cry before. She never cried. She was so strong. A fighting spirit. She made me feel more regret than I had ever felt.
"I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I swear," I had said gently. "I'll get a different job. You don't have to be afraid." I remember the complete shock on her face. Obviously she had expected for me to shoot her or something for saying it. Yet even then she trusted me enough to allow me to hug her. With tears still rolling down her cheeks, she gave her warm smile, suddenly happy. She had hugged me again.
I had kept my word. Using my degree in medical practice that I had gotten so long, I had gotten a job as a pediatric surgeon. Unfortunately, my degree had expired after so long. My long criminal record didn't help. The dream I had had as a child and a teenager was wholly tarnished by that criminal job. Still, Donna helped me. She persuaded her cousin to allow me to work with her in mechanics.
I heard Donna groan beside me on the hospital bed. I heard the doctor say something. He didn't look totally confident. I didn't care. Donna was going to see it through. She was strong. A fighting spirit. She was going to be okay.
She looked scared. She wasn't crying, however. She was used to pain, in a way. She was used to chemo, surgery, and even emotional pain. She was going to be okay. I held her hand a little tighter. My chest felt constricted with worry.
"You'll be okay. Don't worry. Just focus," I whispered into her ear. "I love you. You can do it."
She nodded once, taking a deep breath. I felt tired. Drained. Caffeine was what I craved. But I didn't dare leave. I didn't want to do what Augustine had done and end up with a born set of twins when I leave for coffee.
Donna Richardson. It was such a simple name. Yet it had its own type of support on itself. It was strong on its own. It didn't need any help. I didn't know why I thought that, but it just seemed so.
Donna looked exhausted. She didn't look ready to quit, though. She looked like she wanted to go on for hours to get the twins born. She was ready for it. I glanced at the window it was night time. It looked like it was way past sunset. There was only the bright hospital lights.
Bright lights. The bright lights of the room when I had asked the important question. She looked genuinely surprised. It looked like millions of questions had run through her head. It felt like thousands of years when it was only a few seconds on a bended knee with the box out.
She said no.
She didn't want to get married. Yet. She said it would have to wait. She didn't want to move in. Yet. That was the word she used to cheer me up: Yet. She looked so concerned for me, but she said to hold on to the ring. She said she didn't want me to get so wrapped around her with her cancer. She didn't want me to end up heart broken if she died.
I just hugged her. I told her that I would make sure she didn't die from it. We'd live a happy life. She was the love of my life. She loved me and I loved her. She supported me despite my sins. She understood my motivations. And I understood hers. Even when her son, Lucas, despised me, she loved me.
When she found out she was pregnant, she promised she would move in once they were born. She promised she would say yes next time. She had given me a gentle kiss as something of a seal of the promise.
Marriage. An actual wedding. Not one like before - that one I screwed up. That one I couldn't redo. But this one I could make sure I did just right. She would love it. I smiled to myself.
She didn't see my smile. She continued on for the both of us. Before I even knew it, the sun was already beginning to rise. The soft glow of it just peaking over the horizon brought a sense of comfort. She would be okay. I loved her. It would pull her through she would be okay.
"This is bad."
That wasn't what I expected to hear. The doctor had said three words of his own. How many times had he had to say them? He couldn't be saying it to me, of course. Donna was doing just fine. Her breathing was even, her heart beat strong.
"A lot of blood," he murmured.
"Don't think about that," I said quickly to Donna. She was beginning to grow concerned. It was obvious. She had fear and pain in her eyes. "Donna. You're going to be okay. You'll be alright. Everything is fine. Just keep pushing." I gave a quick kiss on her cheek, my hand squeezing hers. She gave a weak squeeze back, a soft smile on her face.
Her eyes held something else. They held something...sadness? Why should she be sad? She hadn't cursed at me or said a word all throughout her labor. She didn't blame me for putting her in the mess she was in. She had a look of knowing. She knew something I didn't.
Her eyes lingered on mine for several seconds. She gasped, another contraction hitting her hard. She winced, and I held her brushed her hair back. "You'll be okay," I whispered shakily. I didn't know why her eyes looked so dark and sad.
The doctor's words echoed in my head. A lot of blood. That's normal, right? There's always blood. It always happens. She's okay. We're okay. We're going to walk out of the room with the twins.
"You'll be okay." She nodded in agreement...at least I hoped it was agreement. She looked as if she did it just to make me feel better.
Finally, she said something.
"Desmond," she said through breaths. "I love you."
"I love you too," I say, kissing her on the cheek. "You'll be okay." She went silent. She was still going. Her eyes closed.
She looked so exhausted. She winced.
"You'll be okay. Come on, you can do it," I say gently, my thumb running over the back of her hand. "You can do it, Donna."
"This is bad."
Another set of three words.
"You'll be okay," I whisper.
It was all I could say. I was sick with nerves. My hands were shaking. I was concerned. The doctor wasn't helping. He glanced at me, then back to what he was doing. He looked sorry. Why? She was going to be okay.
I remember when I first met Lucas. He looked shy. He looked like he didn't like me much as well. He said to his mother that he hated me. I managed to hear it, even when he whispered it in a corner. I heard him try to reason with her.
"He's a killer," he had said. "He could kill you. Mom, I'm worried."
Donna had assured him that it wasn't the case.
"Mom, please, open your eyes. He's going to kill you!"
"No, he won't," she said firmly. She said it with a smile.
He was silent for a few moments. "He's not going to be my step-dad. I'm never calling him anything. You know I hate him."
He hated me because I was a killer. Wouldn't be the first person. He'd be last in line.
Donna gave a yell of pain.
"You'll be okay," I say gently. "Think of Lucas. He'll be glad to see them." That was a lie. We both knew that. He had told the both of us that he wasn't considering the two as his own. Anything with my blood was tainted.
Donna looked just about ready to faint. The sun was up now. Time was going by so fast. She was pale. Her breaths were growing smaller and smaller.
"You'll be okay." I was saying it more to myself now.
"Desmond." It was the doctor. He looked directly at me. He was telling me something through his eyes. I couldn't read it. No, I didn't want to read it. I looked back to Donna. I squeezed her hand.
"Donna," I say gently. She gave a weak squeeze in return. She opened her eyes slowly. "You're strong. You can do this. Come on."
She closed her eyes again. She gave my hand another squeeze. It felt like she had barely done anything. I heard the monitor. The heart was slow. No. No.
No.
It doesn't mean anything.
She's going to be okay. She's going to be okay.
"Donna."
Nothing.
"Donna, please." I squeezed her hand again. It felt limp.
I heard the movement of nurses and doctors. "Donna, please. Please. Answer me." I felt my voice catch in my throat.
The monitor was flat lining.
My heart was beating too fast. Why wasn't hers? It should be beating. My heart was still beating. Her heart needs to beat. Mine can't without hers. She needs to wake up. Her heart needs to beat.
She wasn't breathing.
"Donna. Donna. Wake up," I say, my voice shaking. A tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. "Donna!"
"She's gone."
"Her heart is flat lining."
"She's not waking up."
"The twins, sir."
All of them were talking to each other and to the doctor. She wasn't gone. No. No. No.
It wasn't happening.
She is strong.
She is a fighting spirit.
Three words.
You'll be okay.
No.
She was strong.
She was a fighting spirit.
Three words.
Too much blood.
She's not okay.
No.
I pressed my forehead against hers, tears running down my cheeks. "Donna, wake up. Donna, please...don't leave me. Don't let me go. Come on...Donna..." I felt two hands gently lay them on my shoulders. "Donna, you're going to be okay," I say through tears. "Come on. You can do it."
"She's gone," I hear a nurse say.
"No, she's not! She's going to be o-okay!" Tears were coming too fast.
My body felt numb. Donna. Donna. Donna. It was all I could think about. She looked too still. She looked...
Dead.
No! She can't be. She promised. She promised. She can't.
I somehow ended up away from Donna. I was separated. My hand wasn't holding hers. It felt empty. It felt cold. My hand needed hers. She needed a pulse. I was shaking.
Donna.
What about when you promised we'd marry?
What about the twins?
What do you expect me to do?
She can't leave. She can't.
She can't leave when I love her this much. She loves me.
I caught myself praying. I was praying for her to come back through tears. Donna. Donna.
Nothing.
Absolutely no response.
I felt numb. I could only feel the tears and the hand that held hers. I couldn't feel my heart beating. It can't beat without hers. It can't. She loved me through my sins. She loved me despite her son. She gave me peace. She made me who I am. She made me actually want to love someone. She made me want to care. She doesn't hate me.
She can't just leave. She can't. She can't. If she loves me, she can't.
I knew I was falling apart. I was crumbling. It was obvious. I didn't have the one holding me together. She wasn't drawing breath.
My mind went blank.
I couldn't think. I only had Donna's smile in my head. A still, unmoving image of her smile. The glow of the sun on her skin. Her hair was still instead of moving. Donna.
She can't let me go.
I heard my phone vibrate on a surface. It was Augustine, I knew it. Everything else happened in a blur. I was crying my heart out. When I looked up to Donna, she was gone. They carried her out.
I didn't get to say goodbye. She was gone. She was gone.
I cried harder. My body was shaking, but I couldn't feel it. Four words.
Don't let me go.
They repeated over and over in my head. I refused to believe it. It wasn't happening.
Moments later, the doctor approached me. I managed to calm myself.
"Your kids are okay."
My body melted. The twins. They're okay.
But Donna wasn't.
The doctor looked at me expectantly.
"What do you want to name them?" He asked gently. He must have repeated himself.
"I...I-I..." I couldn't speak.
"Boy and a girl."
"D-Donna."
"Donna. And?"
I hesitated. Donna came so easily to my head. A boy?
"Louis. L-Louis."
He wrote them down on a piece of paper. He handed it to me. "Can you please write down your signature under father?"
I looked down at the paper. Under "mother", it said, Donna Richardson.
Next to it was stamped, "DECEASED".
I broke. I didn't know why the doctor was expecting me to do all this now. I was a wreck. I signed.
Three words.
You'll be okay.
Donna.
She's not okay.
Three words.
She wasn't even there to hear them anymore.
Three words.