"Good and bad news," the doctor said to me, placing the chart on a small table in the small room.
We had been here for almost eight hours now, so it was dark outside. At the moment, neither Priestly, Cate or Mark was here. Mark had to go to work, and Cate had forced Priestly home for dinner. They were supposed to come back first thing tomorrow morning, but I had a small feeling that Priestly might stop by tonight.
"Start with the good ones?" I asked, and Lacey looked at me - that was her name – before she sat down in the chair next to the bed I was on.
I wasn't in pain, because they had given me pain killers. But as soon as they stopped working, it would hurt again.
"Your leg is broken in two places, and you have six broken ribs. There is also a small fracture on your ankle, and we have to operate on you to fix the broken leg. You also have old fractures that matches with the story you told me."
"That's bad news?" I asked. If that was good news, what the hell was the bad news?
"We pulled out some old charts on you, from when you were born. You had a heart failure."
"I know," I said, knowing that this wasn't good. I mean, they did an ECG on me. This could not be good.
"Because you were never treated, the failure has grown bigger. You also have a small hole in your heart, called an Atrial Septal Defect."
"What does that mean exactly?" I asked, confused. I had two heart failures? And what did she mean when she said I have a hole in my heart?
"The hole is very small, and even though you can live with it, we should fix it. But we do have to fix your other heart failure by doing a surgery."
"And if I don't do the surgery?"
"Well," she said slowly. "Without a surgery, you'll barely have a year."
She told me that the success rate was about 50-50 in the surgery's. Those who woke up was always fine. But then there was the fifty percent who never woke up again.
She went through the surgery with me, and then she left me to think. But really, there wasn't much thinking about it.
Yeah, I was scared. But I wanted to live, despite everything that had just happened to me. Because I wanted to be with Priestly, and the only way of being with him was to be alive. If I didn't do the surgery, I would barely have a year with him.
I returned to the white paper in front of me, and picked up the pencil again. I hadn't been drawing in ages, but I had nothing better to do here. I was almost done, though.
And once I was finished, I started a new one. Halfway done with it, I heard the door opening and I looked up.
As Priestly walked in, I quickly turned the two pieces of paper over so that he wouldn't be able to see them. I mean, the one I was working on right now was actually a portrait of him.
"Hey," he said and I felt myself smiling. "Anything new?"
"No," I lied smoothly. "Just that I need surgery on my leg." I figured it was best to lie about my heart. I knew it would freak him out.
He looked at me for a long moment, his face showing me nothing.
"When?" he asked then and I shrugged.
"Tomorrow," I said and he nodded slowly. Looking at him I turned my palm up and he pulled the chair close so that he could sit down. Taking my hand, he squeezed it gently.
"You okay?" he asked, his eyes piercing and hard not to look into.
"I guess," I said. "I'm not in pain anymore."
"That's good," he said in a distant voice.
"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked and he stood up without answering. Leaning down again, I softly felt his lips against mine and I gladly kissed him back. I would always be more than glad to feel his lips against mine. I hadn't quite grown used to the feeling of his new piercing though, but I knew I would.
As he leaned out a moment later, I heard footsteps and looked up only too see a police officer walking into the room. I figured the doctors had called them.
"Hello," he said. "I'm officer Dawson."
He explained why he was there, and asked if I was willing to give my story. I figured I had nothing to loose. Too many people already knew about everything. I might as well go to the police, even though I was scared.
"So, Tish, what happened last night?"
"Umh," I said. I figured they would need my real name. I wasn't that happy about giving it away with Priestly in the room though. I hated my name. "Actually, it's Platisha."
"Platisha?" I heard Priestly ask in a disbelieving voice, and I hushed him only to hear him chuckle.
I gave the police my report though, and he promised he would stay in touch right before he left.
"Platisha? Really?"
"Shut up," I muttered and let go of Priestly's hand. He had been holding mine the entire time, and it had been comforting.
Grabbing my hand again, Priestly held it steady.
"My real name is Boaz," he said, his tone almost disgusted.
Turning my head to look at him, I saw that he was very serious and I started laughing. Boaz? Really? No wonder he legally changed his name to Priestly when he turned eighteen.
"Shut up," he echoed me, but with a chuckle in his voice instead of the bitter tone my words held.
He stayed for an hour before I told him he should go home and sleep, and he promised he would come by tomorrow before the surgery. Kissing him goodbye, his lips lingered on mine for a long time.
I had been hiding my fear all the time he had been here, but with that kiss I was sure he had sensed it somehow. He knew I was scared. And I wish that he didn't know. It was my burden, and not his.
A nurse checked in a few moments later, and I was almost asleep when I heard a knock on the door and a second later it opened.
I saw a tiny, red head look into the room, and I immediately recognized the red locks, going with the blue eyes and the short body.
"Alex?" I asked, not believing what I was seeing. That couldn't be her, right? She was in juvie, and I hadn't seen her in months.
Closing the door behind her, she walked into the room and I saw a tear roll down her cheek.
"I'm gonna kill that bastard for doing this to you."
Alex. It was really her.
I met her about four years ago in a foster family. A year older than me, she grew into a sister. A close one. But she hated the family, and ran away from the house. She lived on the streets for a long time, and she was a lot tougher than she looked like.
She was in juvie because they had no place else to put her, and she was a minor. They would release her as soon as she turned eighteen though.
I had never officially told her what was going on in the foster home I was in, but she knew. She had been there. She knew how foster homes worked. She had seen the signs.
"How did you find me?" I asked, ignoring her words.
"I have contacts, remember?" she wiggled her eyebrows, the serious expression running off her face and I felt myself smiling.
"Come here," I said and opened my arms, feeling her hugging me back. The hug lasted for a long time, and I didn't want to let go of her. I had missed her a lot more than I had let myself know.
"How are you? When were you released?"
"I'm great, and I was released yesterday."
"I missed your birthday," I realized, and she shook her head to dismiss it.
"Screw that. Now, how are you?"
"Not that great. I have to do a surgery tomorrow, and I'm scared."
"What kind of surgery?" she asked, and I didn't hesitate when I told her.
"For my heart."
We talked for hours after that. She told me about juvie, and I told her about life on the outside. I told her about school. About Priestly.
"Is he good to you? I mean, he's not taking advantage of you? Because if he is, I'm gonna kick his ass all the way to mars."
"He's great," I told her. "He's... He knows everything, and I love him. He doesn't know, but I do. He's patient with me. He knows everything that's been done to me, and somehow he understands. And I... He's the best thing that's ever happened to me. He makes me feel safe, and I don't know what I'd do without him."
"I need to meet him," Alex stated and I laughed in agreement.
-
When Priestly showed up the next morning, I told him the full story. I told him that I wasn't just doing a surgery to fix my leg. I told him I was also fixing my heart. And that I had a hole in it. And probably only a year to live.
I had already talked to Cate about it. She told me she could pay for it, and I told her I would pay her back some time in some way. She shook it off, and said that I should ignore it.
Now Priestly were looking at me, his eyes hard. He didn't like this. Not one bit.
"What's the risks?"
"What?" I asked, trying to stall. I was scared.
"The risks," he said again. "There's always risks. And you're doing a surgery on your heart. So what are they?"
"50-50," I whispered.
"Of success?" he asked and I shook my head.
"No. There's a fifty percent chance that I'll never wake up again."
"There's no way in hell you're doing this surgery," Priestly shook his head. "Just no."
"If I don't do this surgery, I'll be dead in a year."
"Yeah, and if you do it, you can be dead in a few hours. You just... you can't do this."
"Does it matter if I die today, or in a year? If I don't do the surgery, I will walk around scared for the next year. Just dreading for it to happen. And so will you."
"I don't care," he stated. "Because then I can be with you longer."
"I'm doing this," I told him. "I already talked to Cate. And I told the doctors last night. I'm doing this surgery."
"You're not eighteen," he stated. "You're not allowed to say yes to this alone."
"The only ones who can say if I can do this or not is the same people who have been hurting me for years. Do you really want them to make the decision?"
He stared at me, his body stiff and rigid.
I took his silence as a no.
"That's what I thought. I told the doctors yes, and I'm doing it."
"I don't want you to."
"If you can't tell me to go in there, and do that surgery, then lie to me. Because I'm scared. No, I'm fucking terrified. And you're not helping me right now. You're not making me braver. I already decided that I will do this, okay? I will get that surgery whether you like it or not. But if you can't even tell me to go through with the surgery, then lie to me. Make me feel better. Tell me a lie."
He was quiet for a long time before he took a few steps and grabbed my hand as he looked straight into my eyes.
Before he answered me, two nurses came in and ruined the moment. It was too late for him to speak now, and he knew it.
"It's time," one of the nurses said with a smile.
Taking the bed I was in, they rolled me out of the room and Priestly had to let go of my hand. But he held it for as long as he could.
I tried to smile at him, but I failed and his returned smile looked more like a grimace than anything else.
I was sure he wouldn't say a word when he suddenly did. I was already out of the room, and I could barely hear his soft voice from where he stood.
"I don't love you."