June 19, 2009~
I wake up to hear two familiar people shouting at each other, among the droning beeps of the hospital machines that are monitoring me. I turn my head to see moonlight streaming in through the windows in the room. It is then that I remember everything. I can still feel the cold blade of the machete digging into my back, but I force myself to think about better things.
That is very hard when the people began shouting a long line of profanities at each other.
"Stupid jackass!"
"Dumb bastard!"
"Lazy bitch!"
"Damn fag!"
They hurl awful words at each other nonstop; as if the throbbing in my head isn't bad enough already! It just gets a whole lot worse.
A new softer voice interrupts them; a familiar reassuring voice. "Excuse me, Violet and Max, but you must keep quiet and discuss your issue without crude language." There is some shuffling of feet, and then I quickly shut my eyes when I realize that they are entering my room. Through the tiny slits between my eyelids I leave open, I see Carlisle escort Kerry and Max into the room and onto the cushioned visitors' bench in the corner. Kerry has an extremely pissed-off expression on her face; her nose is wrinkled and her mouth twisted. Her arms are folded defiantly across her chest.
Max, sitting beside her, just stares into the nothingness. I know he is thinking about something, probably what he will say to Kerry next, because there is a deep crease in his forehead. I pray they do not bicker anymore.
"You let her get away in the first place," Max mutters.
"I did?! It's your fault!" Kerry retorts angrily. Apparently my prayers haven't been answered.
"What did you want me to do? Follow her to the bathroom??"
"Well obviously she didn't go to the bathroom!" I hear a piece of paper crumpling against stone and I see Max staring down at the scrawled note. A wave of sorrow washes over me.
Kerry sniffles. "Do you think Nessie'll be okay, Max?"
There is a long pause and I feel a cool, marble hand on my forehead. "I don't know, Violet. Probably not."
Then, I hear a few broken sobs. "She can't die. We've been through too much together," Kerry whispers.
"Sometimes we have to let go of the ones we love," Max replies. "I had to do that, years ago on September 11, 2001." It falls silent and someone sits on the other side of my bed, by the window. It is Kerry; she sighs and touches my broken left leg carefully.
"I'm not ready for that," she murmurs. "Neither is she." I think it was meant for Max not to hear it, but the sullen expression on his face tells me that he did. Just then, someone else walks into the room. It is Rose, her eyes full of unmistakable remorse. She leans in and brushes a loose curl from my ivory face, whispering, "I'm so sorry. I deserve to die more than you do."
Her words break my heart to listen to. Aunt Rose is a good person, and I know it from the times I used to spend with her. She cradles Kerry in her arms and hums a lullaby soothingly in her ear. What I would do to see my mother…
Then, I woke up.