Short one, but a bit significant if I do say so myself :)

Chapter 33 – The Other Side

The knock was softer than it had been three days ago, gentle enough not to startle her fragile state. But still loud enough to make sure she was still alive.

"Hey, sweetie."

No answer. There never was anymore. However, this still wasn't enough to discourage Olivia from her morning duties. "Honey, it's 6:30. Time to get up."

She still didn't move, not even when her door creaked open. Same as every morning. The familiar disturbance of the extra presence in the room, the patter of slippers crossing the floor, the dip at the foot of the bed. And then the words, always the words.

"How you feeling, honey?"

That same lock of hair got pushed behind her ear. That path from her ear to her chin was traced by the second softest thumb she had ever felt. Her mother's touch was comforting, but nothing compared to the grace of a promise ring being slipped onto her finger.

Her chest constricted and she flinched.

The slight movement was enough for Olivia to breathe again. She rubbed her daughter's back and chirped "There she is! Come on, we're leaving in 45 minutes."

After pecking a kiss on her forehead, Olivia was out of the room much too quickly to notice the tears of pain from Isabelle clutching her chest, right over her heart.

Six pounds had been shed in the last two weeks, making it easy for Isabelle to not notice her sister's hoodie on her shoulders. A perfect fit, and Sarah hadn't said a word.

It was fifth period, lunch time. And in agreement with the new routine, Brooke was already back with her lunch as well as Isabelle's by the time the blonde had arrived at the table.

As usual, Brooke wore a loving smile and pushed a soft pretzel with lemonade over at her best friend. "Morning, love." Her accent was extra-prominent with the pressure of perkiness. "You hungry?"

Isabelle didn't need to say no. She didn't even have to fake a smile or lie and say that she'd try to eat. She just sniffed and began picking at the sparse salt.

She could feel her friends' eyes flying in every direction, to her, to each other, to the table. But she knew where Brooke's were: on her phone, sending Isabelle's every move to Arianne two states over.

She opened her lemonade bottle and brought it up to her chapped lips, wondering how Brooke kept doing it. From the daily reports to logging Isabelle's eating habits and weight loss to receiving the same information and matching up her charts with Brand—

The yellow liquid spurted from Isabelle's mouth so fast she didn't even feel it happen. All she focused on was the fierce knot in her heart, threatening bile.

"Izzy," her friend Katie was gripping her shoulders now, mouth at her ear. "What's wrong?"

"What happened, Isabelle?" Brooke's voice was much more demanding and medical, her pen poised over a fresh line in her notebook.

They all knew she wouldn't answer. She would just keep her damp eyes sealed to keep everyone focused on the real problem: her tired hand clawing at the skin over her heart, trying to piece everything back together.

Sixth period. Isabelle had to be assisted to her and Brooke's next class, shaking her head every time someone suggested that she go home. She was so close to rebounding, she couldn't give up now.

Brooke helped Isabelle into the chair in front of her own where she could easily keep an eye on her. Isabelle tried to breathe, letting her head fall into her hands for support. But the constricting burn wasn't going away.

This was the longest it had ever gone on. Usually she'd only need to suffer for ten or fifteen minutes. Not a whole hour. It was like the lemonade had burned the gaping wound in her heart and moved the throb all throughout her body. This couldn't be a case of simple depression anymore, she thought. Something was seriously wrong here. The question was, did she care enough to get help?

Mr. Gaytes walked into the room and started passing out worksheets about psychological disorders. Isabelle didn't know which one, although there was some kind of emergency suicide hotline at the bottom. Her phone felt heavy in her pocket and the throbbing continued to haunt her.

"Who did the homework last night?" Mr. Gaytes silenced the chatter with his annoyed question. Three people raised their hands while everyone else's faces took up confused, awe-struck, and humored looks. Isabelle didn't move.

"Figures," he scratched his balding head and sighed heavily, perching himself on the edge of his desk. "Does anyone even care that most of the questions on that assignment were answers for your test tomorrow? Why do I keep giving you chances to better yourselves if you refuse to take them?"

Isabelle's hand subconsciously slid down to her chest, gripping at the epic pain.

But Gaytes didn't notice; the man was on a roll. "Let me tell you something. Out of all my classes, all 120 kids, about three got on my webpage and actually looked at the resources. All you have to do is click the button of a mouse a couple of times, and that can be the only thing standing between you and getting to wherever you want to go. You're only sabotaging yourselves by not getting help. Why would you do that to yourselves?"

Brooke's pencil stabbing into her back was nothing compared to the new clutch that the pain had on Isabelle's heart. A couple of students around her even began looking at her and her labored breathing.

"It's like you guys don't even want to get out of here. As much as you all complain about the blood, sweat, and tears you put into school, you won't do just that extra little bit of work to be better. Tell me, who in here even has hope for the test tomorrow?"

"Isabelle." Brooke's voice was loud in the room, too full of authority and focus. Too many for Isabelle to handle , even though she had started rocking.

"I'm not worried about Isabelle." He was in his own world now. "It's about everyone else that doesn't give a crap about their education! Even though you can easily compare yourselves to the people that we're studying, like the schizophrenics, anorexics, even self-harmers!"

Crunch.

"AHHH!"

"Izzy!"

Isabelle was barely on the floor before Brooke was by her side. The rest of the kids had scattered, giving room for the horrific scene to unfold.

It was all happening too fast for anyone to make sense of: Brooke's paranoid cries, Mr. Gaytes's immediate orders, and the screaming. Isabelle's tortured screaming from her crouch on the floor. Her hands weren't helping anything anymore, but they were both glued to her chest in defensive fists. The pulsing flames engulfed her veins and choked the oxygen from her blood, blinding her and taking her entire being hostage. Brooke's voice was muted in her ears and her hands slipped over her best friend's skin in failed attempts to soothe her. Mr. Gaytes was on the school phone, demanding an ambulance and telling the rest of the class away from Isabelle. Even Tori, her false lashes batting to match her scowl. Everyone was squeamish, stunned, scared. Brooke chose to hide it, but release the tears in the form of strength, squeezing Isabelle's weakening hand with everything she had.

"It's okay, Izzy, it's all okay." Brooke buried her face in her best friend's damp hair. She made sure not to flinch while Isabelle's teeth came down on her arm to muffle her screams. The only feeling allowed was the clutch of Isabelle's hand in hers, waiting for her heart to stop breaking.

Nobody really thinks of a broken heart as anything literal. Emotional pain hits us, we cry, we live with it the best we can.

But why do we call it broken instead of just damaged?

Why do our chests contract at the thought of tragic love? Why do our stomachs give up their function? When do the aches in our heads stop the torture?

Why do we cry?

The human heart is more than just a muscle. It's a soldier. It's raised to stand on its own and fight the daily challenges on this battlefield called life. But it was always meant to find a partner, another heart to bond to and stand together. And what happens when those two soldiers are torn apart? The single heart has forgotten how to survive without the other half. The gaping hole becomes infected and spreads to every other part of the army, taking down everything in its path. The wound is too big to simply stitch up; it needs the only thing in the world that can fit it perfectly.

The absence of Brandon's stone in Isabelle's promise ring wasn't noticed by anyone, except his other half, lying in her hospital bed. Voices were everywhere, saying words she didn't understand to people she didn't know.

"Takotsubo cardiomyopathy?"

Silence.

"What the hell is that?"

Brooke's frustrated voice was a bigger shock to hear than Olivia's wrecked whimper.

A male sigh. The click of a pen. The clearing of a throat. "When the muscle of the heart is suddenly weakened, it's recognized as acute heart failure. If she'd been by herself or something else had kept her from getting to us, it would've been fatal."

"Jesus…" Brooke's voice was muffled, probably from her hand dragging over her face.

"What causes it?" Olivia was trying to be strong, but she wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.

The doctor took a deep breath again. "Basically, it's triggered by emotional stress, such as the death of a loved one, constant anxiety, even a breakup. We'll ask Isabelle what's going on when she wakes—"

"Wait," Brooke was up again. "a breakup? That could've killed her?"

"Well, yes," Isabelle could feel Brooke's rage even with her eyes closed. "Emotion plays a big part in the proper function of the human body. You become tired when you're depressed, sweat when you're nervous, your heart can feel like its literally breaking when a relationship ends."

"Are you saying what I think you are?"

The doctor exhaled. "I'm afraid so. After all, it's not called Broken Heart Syndrome for nothing."

TC's a real condition, by the way. Too complicated for me to try and make up xD.

So! I thought we needed a little break from Troyella & the gang, so that's what's going on over in Cali. Brooke's pissed, and how's Troy gonna take the news that Brandon's actions put Izzy in a hospital bed?

When's Brick coming back?

REVIEW! Thnx :)

~Rachel :)

SNEAK AT NEXT CHAPTER:

- Gabriella takes advantage of Brandon's silent offer

The air had changed in his room. The openness had vanished, the darkness seemed permanent. Angry. Metallic, even, bloody...

No matter. Gabriella felt her way over to his bed and crawled in beside him, feeling his tense frame in her hands. But something still wasn't right. She ran a finger from his bicep to his elbow. The slick fabric went all the way to his wrists, maybe even further. Her eyebrows furrowed. Brandon never slept in a shirt...

That's all I have for now, sorry. But I'll be back as soon as I can.