The silence was all over the place. It was as frightening as those in the horror movies that had gotten quite popular over the years, especially amongst teenagers. Young girls now had an excuse for cuddling with their boyfriends all evening and then, staying overnight, doing who knows what.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against love. But in my opinion, if you love someone you shouldn't have to come up with an excuse to express how much you care about this person. I mean, a scary movie could be an opportunity for the guy of my dreams to put his hands around my shoulders and then lean into me, and kiss me, sure, but if he wants to do it anyway, he should just go ahead and do it. Because the scary movie wouldn't be what's making the moment an unforgettable one, it'd be how honest and open the two of us are about our emotions. It'd be the way we're looking at each other and the fact that we can read each other's minds. It'd be the level to which we can understand one another's feelings and deal with them as a couple. If you can't be straight with the person you love, but you're lying to their face every time you screw up instead and don't want to admit it, thinking that it'd end up badly, then how is this love? They don't know the real you, rather a version of you that you are convinced, is more appealing and attractive. You'll end up breaking up sooner or later, trust me. If you don't have honesty, what do you have? Only lies. And in the end, hurt feelings. It doesn't have to be like that. It shouldn't be like that.

Suddenly, the echo of the coin I put in the phone booth a minute ago sounded and broke the silence.

I was wondering if I made the right decision by calling her. I didn't want her to judge me because I ran away. I wanted her to realize that I'm happier now that I'm alone…with him…somewhere in the desert. However, it was too late for second thoughts as I had already begun dialing the numbers. Her phone would soon begin to ring.

…∞…

The ringing stopped. I heard the deep breaths on the other side of the phone. I knew what I wanted to say first:

"It's me. I'm okay." I mumbled, waiting for a response.

"Who's calling? Debby, is this you? Is this really you, my dear child?" she asked, worried that the answer might be "no".

"Yes, mom, it's me. I'm fine." I said quietly.

"Oh, thank God. But why did you run away without saying anything?"

Her voice was demanding. I could tell she was really worried about my health even though I said I was doing well a few times already. I was. I couldn't guarantee that I was going to be alright in the future, though, because I didn't think I would be. I knew she was waiting for me to try and convince her it was all going to be alright, but I just couldn't. I didn't believe it myself.

I remembered the question she had asked. Why did I run away without telling anybody?

Flashbacks of the hospital went through my head. It was a giant building, with six floors and about fifty rooms per floor. Only on the first floor, there were no rooms for patients. It was filled with about forty doctor's offices, five nurse's offices, three surgery room, one small kitchen and a bathroom for the staff. Also, there was a room with a door that didn't have a label glued on it and I assumed it's the supply closet since each day I observed the nurses going in for toilet paper and stuff. All of the walls were white although the paint had come off on most of them and they had started to look grayish. I felt sick just by looking at them.

My room was on the third floor. It was small. It had three beds and next to each of them, there was a nightstand. There was also one wardrobe with towels and sheets provided by the hospital, a desk with a few drawers, a chair and a trash can. The piece of furniture I liked the most was the TV in the middle of the room. It helped me escape the nightmare I was living in for an hour to two a day despite its lack of channels. When there was nothing interesting on TV, I would spend the time by either writing in my journal or thinking about home. I'd recall all of the good memories me and my family had created back in LA. I'd remember the smell of the furniture that was in our house and what it was like to touch every piece of it. California seemed like a sunny and warm place once. Anyway, there were no paintings or any other decorations in the room which I found depressing. The bathroom had nothing more than a shower, a sink, above which there was a giant mirror, and a toilet.

Every time I looked in that mirror, I saw myself as a side case. I am treated like one, even by my parents. When I saw my reflection in it, I felt like I'm not ordinary and not in a good way, but in a really bad way, like I'm a freak show. I was never accepted for who I am. And I knew that if I ever decided to go back to LA, I still wouldn't be. That's why I ran away and why I'm not planning to go back anytime soon although I'm probably not going to live a lot longer.

The medicine I took didn't help me out much. I had to drink two pills each morning and then two more in the evening. Also, I had injections in the morning. I still remember their taste and the extra pain they caused me.

"I just had to get out of there. I couldn't do it anymore." I heard myself saying.

"And what are you going to do if your condition gets worse? I want to help you, but you won't let me. By the way, are you taking your medicine regularly? Do you have enough money? You know how serious bone cancer is, right? Your whole body can get paralyzed in minutes…"

After a while, I got sick of my mom's blabbing. I wasn't in the mood for another lecture so I decided to interrupt her.

"Please calm down. I'm fine. I just needed to do this."

I wasn't. But I knew she wouldn't handle it so I lied.

The image of a severely damaged body, my body, hit me like a fist in the stomach. I could hear the bones cracking.

"And where did you say you are again? Your father and I will come pick you up if you don't have a ride."

I didn't want to answer this question. I didn't want to go back. I didn't belong in that hospital. My parents thought I did, but I felt empty in there. I didn't want to feel like this ever again. And I know they wanted what's best for me, every parent wants what's best for their child so I can't blame them. For the same reason, I was also sure that they'd put me back in even though they said they won't.

"I don't know where we are. I just woke up." I replied calmly.

I didn't know where we are, but even if I did, I wouldn't have changed my answer. I was aware that she's hurting and stuck one more knife in her heart, but she's a strong person and I was certain that she can get through the pain.

"Debby, are you sure you want to be alone? It's dangerous. Are you willing to take the risk?"

"Mom. Please. I need this."

I wanted her to understand. I really needed this.

"I love you."

I felt the way her tone of voice changed and trembled when pronouncing these words. My mom was aware of how bad my condition was. She knew that this might, in fact, be our last conversation and she wanted to make sure that if anything bad happened to me, I'd remember the strong love she had for me. I felt like we're saying goodbye. I felt like this is the end.

"I love you too." I said, holding my tears back.

As I hung up the phone I was about to start crying.

But then a smile went through my face as I turned around and saw him sitting on the back of the truck. I knew I wasn't alone and that he would take care of me while my family couldn't. I counted on him to catch me when I fall. I counted on him to fill the emptiness that had filled my heart.

…∞…

I put the hood of my sweatshirt on my head, sat in the car and we drove off to the sunset.

TO BE CONTINUED…