I know I took forever to post this chapter, and I know most of you all hate me by now… Oh well, at least I'm posting it now, lol. Anyways my sister just got married which was extremely exciting/hectic and I'm also starting high school, so almost everything has been pretty chaotic. When I'm stressed it's hard for me to write, especially with stories like this one. This is the story I get writers block the most with, so forgive me. I was so furious because I actually finally wrote this chapter, then the device for which I was writing it one broke down, so I had to re-write it and I'm not sure if it's as good as the copy before it. Anyways, this story only has a couple chapters left and I promised multiple people that I wouldn't keep forgetting to write. I can't leave you guys hanging for to long; otherwise you'll all forget the plot! Well, as usual, I hope you like the chapter!

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Thirteen-

Ellie POV:

People came in and out of my hospital room all day, giving their condolences. It's my jealous that they have the will to leave my prison and escape these off-white walls in which I loath. The room is basically empty, which made it more difficult for me to find something to look at instead of the teary faces of my friends and family members. I am so sick of this routine that plays before me, everyone saying the exact same things. I'm almost regretting the fact that I can see again, and that the bandages were taken off my eyes this afternoon. I don't want to spend the rest of my time with a bunch of people who just make my mood worsen, making it pretty much impossible to be optimist. Among other things, I mainly just want to be laughing. I want to be spending this little time I have left happily. I wished the doctors would at least let me go outside every once and a while, but at the same time I knew it was probably impossible.

So many visitors came in, leaving me pretty emotionally strained. Some people who came by didn't even really know me. I was just beginning to realize this when a girl in my English II course came in bawling even though I, couldn't even remember her name. I began to doubt people I didn't even know were that torn up about me dying. They may have cared, sure—but they would get forget about it within the next week or so. And why shouldn't they? As I said before, they barely even knew me. They should let me spend the time I have left with the people who truly care for me, or know the first thing about me for that matter.

I have seen about two dozen people within the last twenty-four hours, but hey—who's counting? I know my mother's here because Marco told me she got to the hospital a while ago, but I'm guessing she's just trying to gain the courage to come in. It must be so difficult to know when it's your fault that your own daughter's organs are now failing. I know I sounds cruel, but I've recently found myself not caring. When people are dying in movies, they act like they've seen the light—or got some kind of inside prospective on their lives. They spend there last days on earth being sweet to everyone who happens upon them, and try share all of there newly-found insight. I guess that's just not my style. Everyone thought I was an evil shrew in high school, so why not start thinking like one?

A few moments later, my mother finally found the nerve to come in, disrupting my morbid thoughts. Her expression was so guilty, I wanted to scream. She sat down beside me and set her hands on my mattress, near my right shoulder. Part of me was so angry I wanted to push them off, but I resisted. She looked absolutely dreadful. Her hair was disgustingly greasy, and I could stop staring at the dark circles around her sleep-deprived eye-lids. If she weren't so pathetic looking, I may not have kept back the word-venom resting in my throat. She was staring at me as if scared of me, like I were some kind of alien, or as if I was going to croak right then and there.

"How you feeling baby?" She asked me, on the verge of tears. The question made me want to start yelling at her, but instead I just stared at her, angrily. If looks could kill, our order of death would be reversed. She shook her head and continued. "I'm sorry. That was a stupid question. Of course you aren't doing well." She could barely choke out her words of concern.

"Not lately." I spoke slowly, my temper rising. "I want to talk to you about—"

She interrupted, making me even more furious. "Eleanor, this is not the time, nor the place. Can't we just forget about it for now? Now that we have more important things to worry about? I don't want to make you upset"

I chuckled, venomously. "I'm sorry, mother—but my being in a hospital bed isn't a get out of jail free card. You know you just don't want to talk about this because it will make you feel worse, and I'm sorry but that's just not my problem. So don't give me all this bull about how you don't wish to upset me, because I just don't buy it. This is what I need mom—I need to talk about this. You need to do two things for me. Listen to what I have to say, and answer the questions I have for you. This is just how it's gunna' be, okay?"

My mom look shocked from my little out-burst, but I didn't really care. Just as long as she went along with what I was proposing. I knew that she had when I saw her look at me with sad eyes, and then nod her head. I nodded back to her matter-of-factly, recognizing the victory. I then sat up in my bed and asked, "Why—why in the world, would you start drinking again?"

"Ellie—it's, it's hard, okay? I wish I had a better answer for you, but I don't. I was weak—Ele. I was at a party with some of my fiends, I was talked into one glass, and I haven't been able to stop since. I know I've let you down."

"Why would they talk you into a glass if they know you're a recovering addict?" I asked, disbelievingly.

"Because they don't know I'm a recovering addict." I rolled my eyes at her, and then beckoned for her to continue. "They never knew I was in rehab, either. It's hard for me to admit to other people that I have—a problem."

I shook my head at her. "I asked two simple things from you and you can't even do that. I called the rehab facility and found out that you checked yourself out a bit early, didn't you? It's not incredibly shocking that the first thing to come out of your mouth is another lie."

She stared at me in astonishment. "I can't believe—"

"Well that's not really the issue, now is it? Me, checking up on you?" I interrupted coldly. "You check yourself out. I gave you that money to go back to rehab, remember? It's not exactly cheap, especially since you've been blowing all your money on booze, right? Did you ever, just once, think about where that money came from?"

"No" She answered honestly. Finally, some honesty.

"It was college money mom." I said sadly. "For next year. The money we have been saving for my education was put towards you for rehab, and you didn't even stay. I had no idea how I was going to make up the money again, but I didn't even care."

"But Eleanor—college means everything to you. Being—being a journalist."

I stared at her, and a spiteful smile crackled through my lips. "I guess a sober mother meant just a bit more to me." She started sobbing, and instead of breaking down with her, I continued to stare at her until she got a hold of herself. After a minute or two, she wiped her eyes and took my hands within hers, groveling. "No more drinking." I said firmly.

She nodded and began bringing my hands toward her. I cruelly ripped them away. "No. That's not enough. A nod doesn't cut it, okay? You have to swear. In fact, I'm going to make this my dying wish. Maybe then you'll actually take this seriously. Now I repeat—No more drinking?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat, making me feel like some kind of monster. She cleared her out her voice and mimicked me. "No more drinking. I swear it, Eleanor."

When I finally felt as if I could trust what she was telling me, I gave her back my hands and she entwined her fingers with my own, smiling. I hesitantly smiled with her and she kissed my forehead. "I just wish I would be around to witness it."

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And there you have it! Chapter thirteen, painfully overdue. I know it was pretty overly-dramatic but I just couldn't help myself. Degrassi is a very dramatic show, is it not? By the way, I'm sad to tell you all that I may have tonsillitis. :(

You know what might make me feel better? I think you know the answer… more reviews! :)

Once again, a great big heap of thanks to Greg Styles, hudsygurl, S.L. Gunn, ScreamsInTheDark, Brooks's-Babey, Dahlia Faith Black,XALLOWspuffyBuFf, breathe-in3, rocklesson86, carrebear14, tribalranger, emo.kid1992, sparkle587, Chelsey, Allie, fiercebiatch, iLoveyou and MAGRADY03! Your reviews are lovely and so are you! And also thank you to the 8 people who have added this story to there favorites list, and the 13 people to add it to there alerts. I'm up to 1,809 people who have read this story, so let's try to make it 2,000!

By the way, if you're wondering why I'm not using the standard seperation bars all of a sudden, itts because they stopped working for me. Who knows why. Sigh