I was in that coma for weeks. Three to be exact. Thanksgiving passed while I was asleep. Zach convinced my mother to have dinner with them, because by that time, I think they had more or less given up on me.
I don't blame them. I would have as well.
When I did wake up, only my mother was there. It was in the middle of the day, and she was asleep. I didn't wake her up. I just laid there until she stirred, then weakly squeezed her hand.
She nearly went spastic on me. I don't blame her. She wanted to call Zach, but I protested. He would still be in class, and I knew that he would leave and skip if he knew I was awake.
I told her I would wait.
I told her that he would come.
I was wrong.
He didn't come that day.
He didn't come the next.
And when he did, he looked worn ragged. Finals, he said to my mom as he passed her going into the door.
And then he saw me.
I made the decision right then and there to not tell him that I'd been waiting on him for days.
I made the decision to not tell him that I had been listening in on everything that was said for three weeks.
Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.
When his eyes locked with mine, they were more surprised than I'd ever seen.
And "Oh, god, Cammie..." comes out in a whispered breath and then I am in his arms and squeezed so tightly that I fear I will snap.
The pain in my bones makes me clench my teeth and bite my lip, but I don't dare tell him to let go.
He leans back and looks me in the eyes, and I'm surprised to find tears threatening to spill out of his.
"Never again, Cams. You can't ever scare us like that again."
The pain in his eyes bores into mine and then his lips are on mine in the sweetest and most careful kiss I've ever received.
His forehead against mine, our breath intermingling as he lays beside me on my bed later that night, talking in whispered voices about anything and everything, as we have been for hours.
Talking and kissing and kissing and talking. And when I told him he should go home and get some rest, he refused.
He drifted off before I did, though, eyes fluttering closed finally and breath evening out. I just pulled him closer and kissed his forehead, then settled into my own pained sleep.
Today is the day.
The hour is closer than ever.
The clock ticks are magnified to a roar.
Everything has slowed around me.
The nurse comes in, checks my stats, and shakes her head.
The doctor is trying to calm my mother in the hallway.
There's a "get well soon" card from all of my classmates back home sitting on the window ledge.
A picture of Macey, Bex, Liz, and I soaking wet and covered in shaving cream after Battle of the Classes our sophomore year is sitting beside the cup.
A bouquet of deep purple roses rests on the sill beside the "get well soon" farewell, it's card stating "It's never too early, darling. Happy 17th. – Z."
The most beautiful and sweet boy I have ever met sits, exhausted and asleep, in the chair beside me, his hand clinging to mine.
A doctor's prescription is pinned on my bulletin board— "More time with 'that boy'."
The fountain outside is visible through the window, frozen over from the December chill.
I only have a few hours left, if that.
The bowl of M&Ms on my bed stand seems impossibly far away.
Tacked beside the doctor's prescription is a note in unmistakeable boy-scrawl that states "You only think that what I said to that woman was a joke..."
Zach stirs beside me, green eyes opening to catch me watching him, and a sad smile graces his lips.
Those lips saved my life at one point, but I'm about to lose it for good.
"Good morning, sunshine," but there's no sun in the future forecast at all.
A small green tree glints in the corner, its lights hurting my eyes when I try to look at it.
A plate of sugar cookies sits on the table at the foot of my bed, untouched.
It has been ten years, and today is the day.
I wake up to a blood-curdling scream, panting and disoriented, stomach wrenching and body aching. Only when Zach's eyes snap open in front of mine and his face registers a most- terrified expression do I realize that the scream was my own.
But "Oh my God, baby. You're burning up!" is drowned out by my mother rushing through the door, worried and flustered, demanding to know what was wrong.
She didn't even seem to notice that Zach and I had slept together all night; she just ran over and pressed her hand to my forehead. "Oh no. Oh, God, no! NO! No!" It was freezing and I was fainting. I could feel it.
Zach, blurry in my swimming vision. "Cammie, Cams! Stay with us, sweetheart. Stay with us! Cammie! Cammie! Love, can you hear me?" faded into nothing.
Silence. Deep, impossible silence.
Blissful black swallowing me whole.
A sudden bright flash, and then the shock. Oh, my goodness, the shock hurt like hell.
"She's back, but the rate's fading fast! Rob! Hurry! On one... Two... Three... NOW!" Another shock, and I'm gasping and sputtering and screaming and I can see nothing but light and faces looming over mine.
My mothers screams and cries in the background. My vision clears and I see Zach, face white as a sheet, and don't even think to be self conscious about the fact that they've ripped my shirt off to use the defibrillator. He's staring me in the eyes, more terrified than I've ever seen him before.
I know that he was scarred that day, seeing a person die before his eyes. And now I have died three times in my life. And I have taken extra care to make sure that he only knows about the last. One scar is one too many to make him suffer.
Today is the day.
The hour is closer than ever.
The clock ticks are magnified to a roar.
Everything has slowed around me.
The nurse comes in, checks my stats, and shakes her head.
The doctor is trying to calm my mother in the hallway.
There's a "get well soon" card from all of my classmates back home sitting on the window ledge.
A picture of Macey, Bex, Liz, and I soaking wet and covered in shaving cream after Battle of the Classes our sophomore year is sitting beside the cup.
A bouquet of deep purple roses rests on the sill beside the "get well soon" farewell, it's card stating "It's never too early, darling. Happy 17th. – Z."
The most beautiful and sweet boy I have ever met sits, exhausted and asleep, in the chair beside me, his hand clinging to mine.
A doctor's prescription is pinned on my bulletin board— "More time with 'that boy'."
The fountain outside is visible through the window, frozen over from the December chill.
I only have a few hours left, if that.
The bowl of M&Ms on my bed stand seems impossibly far away.
Tacked beside the doctor's prescription is a note in unmistakeable boy-scrawl that states "You only think that what I said to that woman was a joke..."
Zach stirs beside me, green eyes opening to catch me watching him, and a sad smile graces his lips.
Those lips saved my life at one point, but I'm about to lose it for good.
"Good morning, sunshine," but there's no sun in the future forecast at all.
A small green tree glints in the corner, its lights hurting my eyes when I try to look at it.
A plate of sugar cookies sits on the table at the foot of my bed, untouched.
The little poster of pain levels is tacked on my bulletin board, and I know that I am past a ten.
It has been ten years, and today is the day.
A/N: Okay, so I portrayed that decently...
And sorry for the longer-ish wait. Things have busy around here. Haha
So thanks for sharing your quirky habits (RosegirlPrincess). And I'm so glad SpanishGallagherGirl agrees with me about The Decemberists, because I thought was alone. Haha
Anyways... Thank everyone for their amazing reviews! :) I really really really appreciate them. (And don't tell my English teacher that I just used excessive repitition. She would murder me and triple my summer work. Haha)
This author's note is getting really long, and I really need to go practice rifle, so... Without further ado...
Review? Please? Tell me what you think?
Thanks!
-Inez
