The Story of The Dying Girl
Hello!
So this chapter will be kind of strange since I have never uploaded using my phone before. I'd like to thank marsupial1974 for helping me out with that. Also thanks to NegroAmigo for some ideas for some upcoming chapters.
Thank you to everyone! I say it every time but I really do need you to know how it means the world to me.
Also, KirbyCorps was very kind and shared a great quote with me, and I'd like to share it with you:
"Nothing grows without the sun and that's why you leaving me in the dark scares me. You are my sun."
Anyways, bring on chapter 27!
Chapter 27:
I woke up to a blur.
It was different.
Not the beautiful blur of the passing night lights that Emily once held in her eyes that night at the fair, all that time ago.
Her beautiful eyes.
No, these were different. Bright. Unpleasant. Stinging. Burning.
Blurred hospital lights.
I shut my eyes again.
What happened?
I felt like, well... To put it in the most eloquent way possible while still being accurate, shit.
What happened?
Everything hurt. My throat was sore, it felt raw. My chest felt like someone was sitting on it. It felt heavy. My head felt like someone had been bashing it with a sledgehammer repeatedly, and my eyes felt like someone had tried to gouge them out with a rusty spork.
What happened?
Emily.
As I tried to sit up, images flashed through mind.
Lilies.
Cook and Katie.
Katie crying.
Doctors moving, shouting.
Emily.
Emily.
Emily.
Emily in bed, going into a coma.
I flinched as I moved upwards, my eyes closing sharply, my hands moving to hold my head as I threw my body back onto the bed.
What the?
I was hooked up to a machine of my own, beeping.
My eyes opened again, and widened.
I was in one of those hospital gowns, the one where your butt caught an unpleasant, unnecessary breeze.
I did not need a breeze down there.
Emily.
Where's Emily?
"You were out for a while there Naomio." I heard a deep voice say.
Cook's voice.
I turned to my right and saw him sitting in one of the chairs, looking very uncomfortable.
Maybe it was because of the chair.
Maybe it was because of the whole situation.
"Emily." My voice came out strained and raw.
"Emily's still here."
Still in the hospital.
Still in this world.
Still mine.
But then again. She'll always be mine, whether she's in this world or not.
"Where is she?" Cook handed me water as I sat up again, slower.
"She's in her room," he said slowly.
I felt better. My head stopped hurting, and my eyes became used to the light.
But then I thought of Emily, in her room, in a coma, and I felt like I was hit by a bus.
"I need to go see her. I need to go see her." My voice became more panicked as I did too.
I need to see her. I need to tell her I love her for the millionth time. I need her here with me.
"Mate, I'm not sure that's such a good idea. You just woke up."
I sat up again, quickly, probably too quickly, but I didn't even notice the pains.
I unhooked myself from the beeping machine, which, let me tell you, was not easy, and hurt like a bitch, and was an overall terrible decision for my health if you think about it. But I needed to see her now.
Cook tried to press down on my shoulders gently.
"No, no, no! I need to see her now!" I said, getting louder, my voice still hurting a bit.
And with that I took off.
In just a gown that did not cover my backside too well.
But I ran anyways, ignoring the pains once again, knowing I probably shouldn't be doing this, but who ever does anything all that rational when they're in love?
And so I passed by patients who gave me strange looks and laughed, and nurses who called after me before just giving up, obviously busy with more important things than a desperate kid running through the hospital.
I could hear Cook running after me, but I was much too fast, and found myself panting as I stood by a room.
Her room.
And I looked through the window, and there she was, lying there, looking the smallest she had ever looked.
Machines beeped and sounded and I just stood there, not really sure what to do.
I was staring at the love of my life, watching as she lied there motionless.
I put my hands to the glass as I heard footsteps sounding off from behind me.
There was a deep sigh.
"I'm sorry," Cook said.
"It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. The world's just a really fucked up place sometimes, and sometimes, the best of people are the ones that suffer," I said, and even to my own ears, my voice sounded broken.
"Can I go in?"
There was a doctor nearby, who looked at me, and maybe he should have said something about my gown, and maybe he should have told me to go back to where I had been, but I guess sometimes there are things that are more important than doing the things you would usually do.
This was one of them.
So he nodded, and with that I opened the door slightly, carefully, and pushed myself in.
I walked over to the chair and sat down, right by her bed.
And to tell you the truth I didn't know what to do. And she wouldn't answer any of the questions I asked her, and when I told her I loved her, all I got was the beeping machines.
"Emily," I said softly. I had been there for a bit now, and for the first time, I reached out and grabbed her hand.
It was cold.
It was so cold.
Like ice.
I choked up a bit.
Why was her hand so cold?
And the tears streamed down my face as I realized that she may never wake up.
I might never see her smile again, or hear her laugh. I might never get to kiss her, and to hold her when she's sad, and be the one that makes her happy.
There might never be a future with her.
And I guess maybe I wouldn't have a future then.
Because what's a world without Emily Fitch?
And the world can really be a cruel place, because how could it do this? How could it give me Emily, and show me what love is, only to try and take her away now?
It can't do that!
I won't let it!
With her I felt like I had a place in this world. Like I wasn't just the kid with the deadbeat dad, or the one who lived in a shabby place. The one who was kind of shy and quiet at times.
And I cried. It was silent, no wailing, just tears and heaving shoulders.
And I remember the song my mum would sing to me when I was little.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away," I sang out quietly, softly, with a broken and shaky voice as I lay my head down on her bed, still grasping on to her hand.
"Please don't take her from me." I don't know who I was asking. I think I was just asking the world.
And I just sat there and held her hand, and she didn't hold it back, and I placed a kiss on her forehead, but she didn't smile, and I tried again to talk to her, but she didn't respond.
I fell asleep in the chair.
I didn't leave the next day either, I just stayed on the chair by the bed, watching the monitor, talking to her, even though she didn't say anything back.
"I read this book recently, and I think you might like it."
Silence.
"Do you want me to read it to you?"
Silence.
"I'll read it to you."
Silence.
And I read the book but still there was no response, and I did everything I thought I could do, and she still didn't wake up.
And when I went to school, I'd rush to the hospital and tell her about my day, about how close graduation is, and how Cook did something that I found was funny, but she didn't laugh when I told her about it.
And it was hard to keep hope. It was hard because it felt like I was being rejected each time she didn't respond, like only more of my hope was flickering out.
But I wouldn't give up.
It was a Tuesday in June when operation C.O.W.I.T.H.A.M.A.G.P.A.I.H. was a go.
What's that? Oh sorry, I guess I forgot to explain it to you.
To put it simply.
Cups
Of
Water
In
The
Hallway
And
Marbles
And
Greased
Pigs
And
Intercom
Hacking
Otherwise known as the greatest senior prank of all time.
Cook and I had planned it out ages ago, but I had completely forgot about it. I had been more preoccupied lately with something much more important.
But Cook had gotten the plan and the senior class together to create the best senior prank.
Here was the plan:
First, Cook and I would hack onto the intercom, and hide. And then we would yell, "AND THE PIGS HAVE BEEN RELEASED!" which means three greased pigs with the numbers 1,2, and 4 would be released into the hall. And they would spend hours looking for the third pig, trying to maneuver around a hallway filled with cups of water and marbles.
Pretty great huh?
Well, it was, but all I could think about was how I wanted Emily to see it.
And so Cook and I snuck into a room, and hacking onto the intercom, we yelled in the best fake voices we could.
And with that, chaos.
The teachers and the principal all scrambled, tripping on marbles and spilling water all over the place.
The greatest part for me might have been when Mandy and Mr. Dirken ran into each other and couldn't get up as they scrambled on the marbles, trying to catch a greased pig with the number 4 on it.
What? I guess we "forgot" to let Mandy and her gang in on the prank.
Oh well.
And as I stood in the hall, laughing, I almost felt bad for enjoying this scene when Emily wouldn't get to.
She didn't get to see this and she never would.
And it would have been so much better if she was here with me, laughing and running, and everything, because everything is better with Emily.
That's a fact.
And when school ended that day (it ended early for obvious reasons) the first place I went was the hospital.
I sat down next to Emily.
"Oh you should havE seen it!" I laughed at the memory, but I grew grim when I remembered why she didn't see it.
"You would have-" I coughed, a lump forming in my throat, "You would have really liked it."
I gave her a sad smile, which she didn't see.
And I kissed the top of her head and got into her bed with her, and held her for hours, breathing in her scent, kissing her red hair.
"Oh Emily," I sighed sadly, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes.
And they did.
And I let them.
I kissed her cheek.
And I kissed her lips.
And still, I didn't get a response.
"I love you," I breathed out into a quiet room.
And it hurt me to know that she couldn't say it back.
But I said it anyways, because I'd like to think that she had heard me, and that she was trying to smile and say it back. And maybe she was.
That night I read article after article about comas.
And as I sat on my bed, laptop on my well... lap (guess that was kinda obvious) I felt like the room was too quiet.
It was too much like the hospital.
So I put my computer down, and I walked to a drawer, and I found the old Beach Fossils CD.
Another trace of Emily.
Everything had a trace of Emily.
The beanie on the floor, the one I had given her after her hair had started to fall out.
The laptop, the one I had spent so much time looking for the movies, the 15 we managed to watch in less than a week.
The necklace I wore, the one she gave to me, that I never took off.
The bed, where we had made love. Her soft skin in my hands. Her heavy breaths. How she invaded all my senses.
So I put the CD in, and I listened to it again and again, and when the words stopped making sense, I put in something else, the playlist we had danced to in the hospital in the impromptu (or should I say imPROMptu) prom. And I listened to it again and again as I neglected history homework.
I wouldn't be going to school tomorrow anyways. That place was a mess after the prank. They would need a day or two to recover.
When I went to the hospital the next day, things were the same. It was quiet. Too quiet.
I took off my army jacket and draped it over her body.
"I'm not sure if you get cold. You might be cold," I said, trying to explain my reasoning.
I grabbed her hand and sat down again.
"So uh, I read articles about people who could hear in comas, like they were half asleep and half awake. Is that what it's like with you?"
I was met with a deafening silence.
"Right, it's not like you can answer me. Sorry about that. I was being stupid. But I decided that maybe I'll just carry on doing all the things I've been doing, and maybe you'll get better. You have to, you know? Get better. There is no me without you."
And the truth to that last statement would have left any room in complete silence.
There really was no me without her.
"So maybe I'll tell you stories from when I was little. Those are always funny, right?"
My mind drew a blank.
"Okay, I got one," I said finally.
"When I was little, mum used to play all these old CDs, right? And she tells me that I used to dance to them in my diaper, and that my dad, he was still around then, would dance around with me. Funny huh?"
Nothing.
"Yeah, I agree, that wasn't really funny. Uh, I don't know."
I tried to think of more I could say, more I could do.
And so I told her stupid stories from Cook's and my childhood, and I read to her a bit.
And I did everything I thought would have made her smile if she could have.
And when I walked home that night, I realized that even though things had changed drastically, I still just wanted to make her smile.
As I lay in bed that night, I reached out for my army jacket, and I pulled out the paper she had given me long ago.
"You'll always be my chapter three."
There in her neat handwriting, I clutched it close to my heart, and I turned to my side, still holding it close as I let the darkness of sleep consume me.
Before I drifted off, I thought about how close I was holding it to my heart, and then I realized it wasn't my own heart anymore.
No, no, no.
Emily Fitch owned my heart.
And what a great thing that is.
Alrighty!
I know this chapter sucked, and I'm sorry. Next chapter will be better, I hope.
Next chapter will be up on Sunday!
Let me know what you thought!