"Daaamn!" Oliver exclaimed as I came stumbling off the stage, so tired that walking was hard, "that was sweeet, Miley! You sang 26 songs perfectly! Can you talk?"
I couldn't comprehend anything.
"I think she's gonna pass out..." Jackson muttered. I felt my legs giving out to my weight as I went toppling over.
"Whoa!" Jackson exclaimed as he caught me around my stomach.
"Hey! Is she okay?" Dad asked in concern as he came around the corner. I was SO TIRED. My throat felt raw and my muscles ached from all the dancing.
"Just worn out is all." Jackson said as he tried to get me standing up straight.
"You did great, bud!" Dad said.
I tried to say 'thanks Dad' but it came out as "banks had."
Dad laughed and helped me walked back to my dressing room. They all three helped me get situated on the couch. My eyelids felt like lead as I tried to stay awake.
"Hair's bake?" I asked, my tongue still heavy.
"Huh?" Jackson asked.
"She means where's Jake." Oliver said, looking at me. I nodded.
"He's at the hospital." Someone said, their voice sounded far away. Suddenly, I realized I had to get there. His poor grandfather. But I was so tired. I tried to stand up, but I rolled off the couch.
"I have to go there." I said, forcing my eyes open.
"Oh no," Dad said as he picked me up off the floor, "the only place your going is home to sleep."
"NO!" I tried to scream, but my voice was to hoarse. The lack of sleep was catching up.
"I'll bring her," Jackson offered, "I'll make sure she gets there okay."
"No," Oliver said as he grabbed my arm, "I'll take her."
"That's fine, Oken," Jackson growled, "I can take my sister to the hospital just fine."
"Well, Stewart," Oliver spat, "forgive me for not trusting you. Why don't you ask Miley, she'll tell you."
They looked at me. Right at the moment I was so tired that I didn't give a damn who took me.
"Don't care."
"I'm taking her." Oliver demanded.
"No, I am." Jackson said. Then I felt the ground leave from under me and I realized I was in someone's arms. Whose, I had no idea.
"I'm taking her."
"No! I am! I have her, I'm taking her!" Jackson exclaimed.
"Ugh," I moaned, "someone just take me to the damn hospital!"
"Fine!" They both growled. I felt them start walking and I wondered if any paparazzi would get a picture.
"We are not taking the limo!" Oliver growled.
"Why not?" Jackson asked.
"Because the hospital is right down the road!"
"Are YOU carrying her?"
"No, but obviously you aren't very strong. She's what, one-hundred, one-hundred five?"
Actually ninety-nine and three quarters. He was close though.
"She not heavy, but I don't want to walk!"
"I don't care!"
I felt irritation rise in me.
"Shit, guys!" I think I curse more when I'm tired. I slapped myself across the cheek. It stung, but woke me up. I slid out of Jackson's arms.
"I will walk MYSELF!"
I stormed off, not really sure where I was going. I heard them laughing hysterically behind me. I spun around,
"What?" I huffed.
"Your waking like a drunk person!" Oliver exclaimed through laughter. I sighed. I HAD to wake up for Jake! I rubbed my eyes to clear them and looked around the streets.
"Well which way?" I demanded. Oliver and Jackson came up behind me and both grabbed one of my hands. I glowered at them,
"What is up with you guys!"
"It's this way!" They both chorused, ignoring my previous comment. It's like they were competing over EVERYTHING. I numbly moved my feet in the direction they were pulling me.
They were right; the hospital was right there.
Why the hell is a hospital beside a studio in LA? I didn't have enough energy to ponder that any further.
Sooner than I thought, we were walking in the door of the hospital. The first think I did was stumble over to the Girls bathroom. There I splashed my face with freezing cold water.
That did the job.
I blinked the water out of my eyes and looked around. The bathroom was a strange orange and very small. It smelled like a hospital, well that was a given. I hated that smell.
I walked out of the bathroom into the bright white admission office. People were taking in low voices and people were being wheel chaired from the call room to the exit.
"This way Miley!" Oliver screamed, causing Jackson to smack him over the head.
"Dude! People know Hannah is Miley now! Do you want a mob?!"
"Don't hit me you annoying monkey-boy!" Oliver snapped as he hit Jackson. I walked between them and said,
"Both of you, shut up and bring me where I want to go. You can fight over Lilly later."
Their jaws dropped and they looked at me in shock. I rolled my eyes,
"No, I don't have scary mind reading powers. I'm just not an idiot! Now, which way?!"
Wordlessly, they both motioned to the elevator.
"We need to go to the ICU which is on the forth floor." Oliver told me as Jackson pressed the button. The elevator doors shut slowly and I got that horrible feeling in my stomach as the elevator shot up. I hated elevators.
1, 2, 3, 4
The elevator doors opened REALLY slowly. I tapped my foot in impatience. Still slowly. I sighed in annoyance. STILL not opened.
"Oh for the love of God!" I screamed as I squeezed between the gap. As I did, a stupid piece of stupid jagged metal sliced my shoulder. I ignored the sharp, searing pain running the length of my shoulder to midway down my upper arm and waited for it to open all the way. Jackson and Oliver walked out once it was open.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Oliver said as he looked at my shoulder, "patience is gold, Miles."
"Really, sis! You COULDN'T have waited three more seconds could you?" Jackson exclaimed as he looked at the bloody slice. I sighed as the blood started gushing out faster.
"Have you gotten a Tetanus shot lately?" Oliver asked in worry as he poked it. I jerked my shoulder away, dismissing the blood and searching the waiting room.
"Oh my God," Jackson paled, "look...you're...b-bleeding!"
"No duh, Sherlock!"
Oliver laughed, "Scared of a little blood?"
Jackson glared then said, "Wipe it off!"
I groaned at their level of maturity and pulled the shirt off that was covering my tank top and pressed it to my shoulder.
"I said wipe the blood not strip!" Jackson said.
"Goodbye, Jackson." I said in annoyance as I marched off. I saw Alana, Jim, and an elderly lady in the waiting room.
I knew the news before I got there.
The small, elderly lady of whom I have met only one other time was crumpled up on the floor with tears streaming down her face. I felt as if I had gotten slapped and all the blood drained from my face. Her face held such indescribable pain that it sent shivers down my spine. Tears were dripping down her once pretty face that was wrinkled with years of laughter, and she looked like she was dying from pain. Jim was also on the floor, holding his mother while she cried. Alana was standing there with her eyes wide in shock and her hand covering her mouth.
She looked up for a second and her eyes met mine.
"Miley!" She exclaimed as she came over to me and hugged me. She let tears drip out of her eyes as she said,
"The concert was great, dear. We watched it in the waiting room."
"Mrs. Ryan? Are you okay?" I heard Oliver asked gently. He such a dorky caring person. I knew he was doing this so I could find Jake.
"No!" She wailed as Oliver hugged her.
"Jake ran off somewhere," Jim whispered to me as he continued comforting his mother, "best go find him."
I nodded slowly and tore my gaze from the woman dying inside right in front of my eyes. I felt panic waves hit me, but for another reason this time.
For a brief moment, I wasn't just seeing the elderly woman. For a horrid moment, I saw me where she was lying.
I shook my head and turned my head in the direction Jim pointed in. I walked slowly that way looking around for him. I was afraid of how I would find Jake. I don't how kindly my heart would take seeing him even a little messed up like his grandmother just was. My arm had stopped bleeding, but my shirt was ruined. I tossed it in a trashcan.
As I turned a corner, the men's bathroom was right in front of me. Eh, it was worth a try.
I walked in the restroom, not really caring it was the men's. It was just as small as the bathroom I had been in previously. I stepped in all the way, trying to ignore the strong scent of ammonia with the unpleasant scent of urine lurking in the background. I shut the door softly and locked it. I knew he was here, how I don't think I'll ever know. I just did.
"Jake?" I called softly. He was sitting on the floor, staring at the wall. He wasn't crying, but he was sitting on a dirty bathroom floor. I sat down beside him.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you," He whispered, not looking away from the wall.
"It's fine." I assured him.
"No, it isn't." He said.
I shook my head, "It is. Forget it, I'm fine."
He kept his gaze on the wall before saying, "I had to get away from there. Everyone was crying."
I nodded in understanding. A few silent moments passed before I said,
"It's okay to cry, Jake."
He tore his gaze from the wall and slowly looked at me. I noticed tears glistening in his eyes,
"Good, because I can't hold it anymore," He choked out. I felt my heart broke as I wrapped my arms around him. He rested his head on chest and I felt his back shake with the sobs he didn't want me to see.
I didn't know the man, but I still found myself crying. I was crying for Jake, though. I held him why he cried, just like he had done for me countless times. I hadn't seen Jake and his grandfather together lately, but I knew from most of the many childhood stories Alana told me that Jake spent most of his childhood at his grandparents house. I knew how hard this had to be for him, and merely that thought hurt me.
I felt the most irrational anger than I had ever felt in my seventeen years of life.
For a few moments, I was furious at his grandfather for dying and hurting Jake like that. Once I realized how ridiculous that fury was, I tried not to think it. But I was still mad, at whom I wasn't sure. God, maybe. Jake and his family didn't deserve this.
I felt the irresistible urge to protect him from this. I knew I was being ridiculous, but I couldn't help it. I didn't like it when he was upset. Not one bit.
Maybe an hour or two later, or maybe it was only a few minutes, Jake looks up at me.
"We should probably get back to everyone." His eyes were red but his voice surprising steady. I nodded and we stood up. I hugged him gently and kissed his cheek.
"I'm sorry." I whispered. He knew I was talking about his grandfather.
"S'not your fault. Thanks."
I smiled, "It's what I'm here for."
He smiled back and we walked out of the smelly bathroom and into the ridiculously clean hallway. We walked back to where Jim, Alana, and Jake's grandma had been a few minutes ago. They were still there.
"Jake," Alana called as she jumped up, her blond hair bouncing. She hugged him and whispered something to him. He nodded and her and Jim left the waiting room.
"What did she want?" I asked him.
"She wanted me to stay here with grandma." He replied as he walked over to where his grandmother was sitting. She wasn't crying now, merely staring off into the distance.
"Hello, Grandma." Jake greeted quietly as he sat down beside her. She looked up and stared at Jake for a while. Then her eyes traveled to me. I was sitting beside Jake and looking everywhere BUT the tortured face of this old woman.
"Miley, right?" She asked in a shaking voice. I nodded and held out my hand. She took it gently and shook it. She kept her eyes on me,
"Jake looks so much like Andrew when he was younger. Andrew worked at a fast food restaurant, but he dreamed big. He dreamed to be a famous writer. Everyone told him he couldn't, and he believed them. When I married him, I told him that he could be anything he wanted to be. He was working on finishing up a book yesterday. He's been working on that book for seven years, seven damn years! And now—now he will never get his chance to get it published."
A tear slid down her wasted cheek and I felt pain infuriate me from just seeing her sorrow.
She fell silent for a few more minutes before she said, more to herself than anyone, "What am I supposed to do?! I can't go home without him! I can't..I can't see where he stood just a f-few minutes ago! I can not sleep in the bed that still smells like him!"
She was falling into hysterics. I felt worthless, sitting there while Jake rocked his small and fragile grandmother back and forth while comforting her.
"Get some sleep," Jake said to me, his eyes burning into mine in a way that made me want to kiss him senseless and still gave me butterflies, "don't worry, I've got everything down here. Just rest."
For once, I didn't argue with him. I leaned against the chair behind me and closed my eyes. Almost immediately, I slipped into unconsciousness.
The last thing I heard before I fell asleep were Jake's grandmother's words: "Jake looks so much like Andrew..."
The air is on high. It's freezing me. Nothing but pajamas and a thin sheet are covering my body. My eyes ache. My body aches. My head aches. I turn over in the bed, feeling the satin sheets caress my body. I sigh and try to get back to sleep. I can't. It's too cold in the room, I'm freezing. I try to open my eyes. I can't, they are sealed shut with eye sand. I rub them vigorously. A few minutes later, I open my stinging eyelids. My eyes are red and irritated, they hurt so badly that I can not touch them to wipe at them. My eyes are watering severely. It can't be normal! Then suddenly I realize my eyes are not watering, that I'm crying. I just wanted to think they were watering. They were sore from falling asleep crying.
I turn over to kiss Jake good morning, he is not beside me. As I push the blanket's off me, I am suddenly extremely hot. I touch the bed, it's freezing. I understand that it is like that because Jake is not in it. I cry out as my bare feet hit the scalding floor. It is hot enough to be burning. I slowly make my way to the living room, ready to see Jake sitting on the couch with Cole or in the kitchen laughing with Oliver.
No one is in the living room.
I suddenly feel empty. Like someone had stuck their hand inside my chest and ripped out my heart with their bare hands. I cry out in pain and lean against the wall. An old man comes walking in the room,
"Bud? Are you okay?"
It's my Dad. He's old. His hair is graying and his voice gruff. Wrinkles cover his face. No, I was not okay. What was happening to me? I cry out in pain again and stumble to the floor. As I do, I catch my refection in a mirror on the wall. I'm getting old. My hair has a few stray grays and I had wrinkles on my forehead.
I hear the clatter of feet come down the stairs,
"I know, please don't remind me."
It is Jake. He is on the phone. He doesn't look old like me. He still looks the same. Jake comes over to me and smiles,
"Hey, Mom. How are you feeling today?" He preses a kiss to my cheek.
That's when it hit me. That was Cole, my baby! My little boy! He looks just like Jake...except for the eyes. And nose.
"Cole," I ask suddenly, "baby, how old are you?"
He hugs me again and said, "Twenty-five. I'm going home now, okay? I'll see you on Thanksgiving! I'll tell Emily and Stephanie you said hello!"
"Wait!" I cry. He stops by the door and turns to me.
"Who are Emily and Stephanie?"
He looks at me strangely, "Mama, are you kidding?"
Dad steps in, "Cole, the doctor said she might be forgetting things. He even said she might be forgetting you. People handle grief differently."
Cole nods, looking sad all the sudden. Were they talking about me?
"Emily Oken-Ryan is your daughter-in-law and Stephanie is you granddaughter."
If my Cole was twenty-five that meant I was forty-two. Forty-two. Wow. And I have a granddaughter...named Stephanie. Cole married Emily.
"Oh," I nod numbly. Why did I feel so miserable? I had a new daughter and a granddaughter!
"Mom!" Another voice rings through the house. The stairs creak and a girl about 15 comes running down them. Her hair is caramel colored and she strongly resembles my Jake in the face.
"Yes?" I was catching on now.
"Can I go over to Kaite's? Please?" She asks.
"Yes." I reply. She smiles and kisses my cheek,
"Thanks Mom! I'll be home before dark." I nod.
Once Cole and my daughter are gone, I feel the pain start to take over again. I cry out as I begun getting stabbed in the heart. What is wrong with me?
"Miley," Dad says softly as he hugs me, "things will get better in time. I know they will, you aren't the only one who's had to lose a love."
Lose a love? I didn't lose a love. My love is in the kitchen. I shake my head,
"Dad, what are you talking about, Jake is in the kitchen."
His eyes widen as he looks at me. I ignore him, the pain is enlarging. I stand and make my way to the kitchen to find Jake. He is the only one that can ease my pain. I need him to hold me.
As I walk in, the floor suddenly gets freezing. I cry out. I look around slowly. Jake is not in here. I look in the sitting room and out the back door. He isn't there.
"Where is he?" I ask Dad with tears brewing in my eyes.
"Miley...don't you remember?" Dad seems to be begging me to remember. I shake my head and look around, hoping he'll appear.
"He's...dead." Dad struggles out. I shake my head and laugh,
"Good one Dad, now really where is he?"
The look on Dad's face tells me he isn't joking. Suddenly, the hole catches fire in me. I scream out and place my hand over my mouth to hold back more screams. My Jake is NOT dead! He can't be!
"You're..You're lying!" I scream as I turn away from Dad and run back into the bedroom. I'll show him that Jake is still here with me.
I open the drawer that held his clothes.
The drawer was empty. I cry out and slam it shut with such a force the mirror falls off the top of the dresser and falls to the ground. It shatters and glass cut my legs. I don't care. I limp over to the bathroom.
I reach for one of the many shelves that will be jam-packed with Jake's bathroom things. I wretch it open, only to find nothing there.
WHERE WAS HE!?!?
With sudden urgency to find some proff he was here, loving me, I run into the bedroom and yank all the drawers out of the dresser. One by one, I look for his clothes. God, where is it?!
I feel tears blind me. I keep looking. I run over to the bed and grab his pillow. It was the only thing warm in the whole bed. I pres it to my face.
I could smell his shampoo. A few stray hairs lay on it. I clutch the pillow to my chest and lay down where he was suppose to lay and press my face to the sheets. They smell like him.
I stay there, breathing the scent as if he is really there.
"Miley? Come on honey..." dad tries to coax me out of the bed.
No, I can't leave. This was the only place my Jake still was. I wasn't going to give this up for anything.
"No!" I cry out to Dad in protest. I bring the pillow to my face and rest it there. I breathe deeply. I can almost hear him whispering to me. Maybe, maybe if I lay here long enough he will come back and be lying under me, smiling. I would kiss him and tell him how much I love him with all my heart and all my love and how I would, no how I could, never, ever forget him. He would kiss me gently and tell me everything is okay now. But he wouldn't need to, because as long as he was with me everything would be alright. I could stay in his arms all night and then in the morning I would wake up with him and we would spend the rest of our lives like that.
"Miley," Dad calls me what seemed like minutes later, shaking me gently, "come on, you've laid there for two days already. Get up."
I couldn't get up, didn't he understand? I can not leave the only thing that keeps me sane. I can't.
"Miley, come on! This has been going on long enough! Go get on with your life!"
"How can I do that?" I whisper. He seems surprised I was talking, "dad, my first thought when I go to sleep and wake up is Jake. How can I move on?"
He doesn't answer. I lean my head back on Jake's pillow. The scent is beginning to wear off. I knew when it was gone, I wouldn't live much longer. I couldn't. I just simply can not live without him. If I would have died first, I would have told God I simply can't come in those gates. I couldn't, without Jake. I wouldn't. My Heaven would be a hell without him.
I clutch the pillow harder to me, my sobs shaking my whole body. Where was my love? Why did he leave me like this? Didn't he love me? Why, how, could he do this to me? To damn me to such a horrid fate?!
"How?" I ask Dad.
"How what?"
I choke back tears as I ask softly, "how did Jake die."
His eyes soften. He strokes my hair, but I jerk away. I don't want any of my hairs falling onto Jake's pillow.
"Mile, he died nobly. Luke killed him while he was protecting you--
"NO!" I moan into the bed. So this was my fault. I pull viciously at my hair and dig my nails into my scalp until I could feel my hair matted with blood. I brought his pillow closer to my face. The scent is gone. I let out a cry--
"Miley! Wake up!"
--pain is strangling me. My love is gone. He is gone. I let out a cry of agony--
"Miley, baby, come on!"
--I feel power come over me as I jump up. I am not going to live without him. I run to the bathroom and shut the door and lock it. I run to the cabinets--
"Miley, please!"
--and pull out a razor. It gleams in the light. I press it to my wrist, knowing if I did this long enough it would all be over. Crimson blood falls down my arms and stains the floor--
"Miley!"
I jumped. My eyes ached. I tried opened them, finding them sore. Just like my dream. I felt sobs shake my body with a power I never knew I had.
I needed Jake.
"She's awake!" A voice called in relief. I snapped my eyes open. The room was white. Bright white.
Am I in Heaven? I wondered. When I saw a face so beautiful that it didn't belong on Earth, I knew I was. I jumped up, forgetting about everything and hurdled myself to him. He hugged me tightly and I sobbed into his shirt and held onto so tightly my fingernails were stabbing into his back. I couldn't let go. He might leave. I breathed his scent in, feeling more relieved than words could ever express. He stroked my hair and I kissed him on the mouth. I was still blinded by tears. He was here! He was really here with me! I could feel him, see him, smell him!!
Once my crying ceased enough to see, I noticed two things. The first, just because an angel was here didn't mean I was in Heaven. The second, Jake's family and part of mine were all looking at me in bewilderment. The waiting room was empty except for them, and for that I was grateful.
"Come on," Jake whispered, his voice like chocolate to my ears, "let's sit down." I nodded and he helped me over to a chair. He sat down at I looked at the only other available chair. It was across the room. Nuh uh, I lost him once. I am NOT losing him again. He just smiled at me and gently pulled me down on his lap. I buried my face in his neck, letting tears glide down my face.
That night, there were two Ryan women crying for the loss of their love.
I can only pray and thank God with everything I can that mine is here with me again.