Chapter One
Before I start explaining myself, I just have one thing to say:
I'm scared.
Scared to death.
Too scared to be sitting here, waiting for 37 minutes. I shifted my weight in this plastic chair, trying desperately to get into a reasonable position; then quietly and abruptly laughing at myself at my attempt to get comfortable in here of all places. Of course, it wasn't long until that laugh faded and I wiped that stupid excuse of a smile off my face. This was not the time to smile. Not here, not now. Not at all.
I looked to my parents - who threw me concerned glances every now and again; my dad on one side, my mom on the other – before turning my head back down to the old, worn issue of Us Magazine that was sitting on my lap, which I had hoped, when I picked it up, it would somewhat keep me occupied while I waited. It didn't. Of course it wouldn't, why would it? Things don't seem to go right anymore. Nothing ever turns out right.
I quickly skimmed through the small print, stating the latest celebrity 'scandal', trying my hardest to remain interested. Too bad my mind was somewhere else; I didn't even make it halfway through the article before I let out a frustrated sigh and closed the magazine, placing it back on the worn wooden table next to me. I gave up on trying to think of something else, it just wasn't working out. I just couldn't.
…I gave up – those words ringing in my head over and over again. "I gave up," I whispered silently to myself, my voice cracking in the process.But I can't give up, I just can't. No, not yet.
And of course, as if on cue, I felt the tears coming on, stinging my eyes, pricking at the corners. They seem to be doing that a lot lately; and you know what, I don't enjoy it. I hate it, hate it with all of my heart – or whatever's left of it.
A tear escaped. I felt warm liquid running on my skin, making its way down my right cheek. I wiped it off my face quickly before either of my parents could see; I can't break down here. Not again. I didn't want any more pity. I didn't need any more pity. I've had enough. Enough to the point where I just don't want to feel anything anymore. I don't want this happening to me. I don't want this to be real. I silently questioned in my head for the 43rd time today if this was just some nightmare, something I could wake up from, something that could be over any minute. I begged and pleaded that it was. But of course, the answer disappointed me. This isn't some dream. I can't return to my normal life. This IS my life. This is reality. I'm just going to have to get used to the idea, no matter how much I don't want to.
I looked around this small room. It was quiet, obviously. Because this place doesn't have the most cheerful atmosphere. This is no place to chat and gossip with your friends, no place to laugh, no place to pop open champagne and celebrate. No one wants to sit here. Ever. This is hell on Earth.
I looked straight ahead, staring blankly at the cold, hard, white walls in front of me. For a hospital you'd expect something a little more comforting. You thought wrong. There is nothing comforting about this room. There is nothing comforting about my life anymore.
Yup, you guessed right. This is where my story begins. Waiting; in what other place but the waiting room in a hospital, my new least favorite place.
41 minutes. It has now been 41 minutes. I continued to sit there with my legs crossed, shaking my leg impatiently. I just want this to be over. I want to go home and suffer in silence. I want to go home and break down in my room, in peace.
Then she appeared. The nurse with the smile appeared and sudden relief washed over me. But; something wasn't right with her, I couldn't put my finger on it.
"Will you please come with me?" she quietly asked, sorrow tugging at the corners of her voice.
That's when it hit me. What was off about her, what was missing. What made my relief leave as soon as it appeared and what made my world start it's process of crashing down.
Her smile was gone.