Emily wakes up Wednesday morning feeling like absolute shit.
When Naomi hadn't turned up at college, Emily had been sorely tempted to go back to her house to make amends, but the look on Naomi's face when Emily had tried to touch her – like she was repulsed by the mere thought of it – still stung too sharply, like salt rubbed in open wounds. She was pissed off with Naomi, who was hiding from her again, when she'd promised her that there would be no more lies, or secrets, that she had stopped running from her.
Bullshit, Emily thought angrily.
It was easier to be angry at her girlfriend than to be hurt by her actions (and she was really fucking hurt, because it was so reminiscent of last year and Emily hated the thought that they were backtracking) so she buried it, hid it beneath a façade of fury and vented her frustrations to Katie and Effy, the latter of whom absorbed the information silently and disappeared soon afterward.
"Weird," Katie had muttered, as they watched Effy sashay away from them down the college steps. The brunette twin shook her head, turned her attention back to her sister. "But listen babes, don't worry about Campbell, yeah? She's a proper fucking prick sometimes, but it's disgustingly obviously that she's like, head over heels in love with you," Katie continued, nudging Emily with her shoulder, a hand on her knee. "She's probably just in a piss about how too many people are leaving lights on and killing the bloody polar bears or something."
Emily cracked a smile at that, incredibly pleased that Katie was being somewhat nice to Naomi. "Oh come off it, Katie," Emily replied, a teasing look in her eye. "You can't pretend to hate her anymore. I've seen the way you two act together when you think no one's looking; you like each other."
"We do not!" Katie protested, face glowing hotly as she gesticulated wildly to emphasise her point. "We just hate each other less. She's not like, a total lezza bitch anymore is all, and she makes you bloody ecstatic – for the most part." Katie became serious for a moment. "Campbell doesn't know how not to be a dick some of the time, Ems. She was fucking terrified of letting you in, but she did it in the end 'cause she loves you too much not to. It was like, a big fucking adjustment for her, being in a relationship and sharing her feelings and shit, and she's not used to it – she's bound to relapse some of the time. But it doesn't mean she doesn't love you."
Emily stared at Katie in shock. "That was surprisingly insightful and understanding of you, Kay."
"Yeah, well, someone has to be when you're acting like a tit. And as much as I hate to admit it, you could do a whole lot worse than Naomi, Ems."
"So you do like her," Emily grinned, laughing as Katie told her to fuck off before becoming serious herself.
"I just don't know what to think, you know?" Emily said, worrying her lip between her teeth and turning to face her twin more fully. "About the bruises, I mean. I don't think she thought I would see the others, the ones on her back, because it was really dark in her room when we –" Emily broke off, made a vague hand gesture that Katie snorted at, before continuing, "I'm just so worried, that someone could be hurting her."
The thought of it made Emily's eyes feel like she'd opened them in salt water, made her stomach turn like she'd swallowed an ocean of it. Katie slid her fingers between her twin's, pressed their palms together. "Her mum is proper lovely, Em. You know that. And Campbell wouldn't stand for that sort of shit anyway." Emily stayed silent, her fears not completely quelled. "Look," added Katie, tilting Emily's chin up so she could look her in the eye, "we'll talk to her about it, okay? And if she acts like a complete tosser again we'll get Effy to smash her head in with a rock."
Emily's mouth turned up at the corners, mirroring the smirk gracing her twin's face. "What if she tells us something awful?" the redhead asked, solemn once again.
Katie paused, her own fears becoming apparent in the set of her mouth, the creases around her eyes. "We help her through it." The older girl rummaged around in her twin's bag with her free hand and pulled out her phone, pressed it into her hand. "Call her," she said simply, before kissing Emily's forehead and standing up to return to college.
Emily had, dozens of times, and sent twice as many messages, but Naomi wasn't answering; she had moped about all evening until Katie had dragged her out of their house to a club where they'd gotten shitfaced on shots and MDMA before stumbling home at around three in the morning and collapsing into bed.
When Emily got up for college just four hours later, she was seriously regretting the night's excursions.
"Oh, just go round and see her, for fuck's sake," Katie sighs with exasperation as she catches Emily checking her phone for the eighth time since they sat down for breakfast with the rest of the Fitch family. "You need to bloody kiss and make up already."
Emily kicks James in the shin before he can ask something innappropriate about how exactly her and Naomi 'make up,' before shooting a spectacular glare Katie's way; her head is pounding like there's a fucking kick drum beating against her skull, and the last thing she needs is –
"Trouble in paradise, darling?"
The condescension dripping from her mother's words makes Emily's blood boil in her veins, and she has to work very hard to not stab Jenna with her fork. "No," Emily bites out. "Me and Naomi are fine."
"That's great, love," Rob says, smiling at her before sending Jenna a warning look, even as the Scottish woman's grin grows a little wider, and she looks so excited at the prospect of her and Naomi breaking up that Emily feels her face flush hot and crimson; Naomi could be in real trouble, and all her mum cares about is getting the dirty, corrupting lesbian out of the picture.
"I think it's great, too," chimes James. "Naomi's always super nice to me and she's well fit – her tits are brilliant. Does she like it when you play with them?"
Normally, Emily would tell James to fuck off and slap him around the head for being a perve, but Jenna looks so disgusted that Emily can't help but smirk vindictively at her mother and say, "Yes, James. She really likes it." Emily stares Jenna straight in the eyes. "But not as much as I do."
Jenna drops her cutlery and says Emily in a tone so appalled that the younger twin nearly laughs; instead, she drags her chair away from their six-seater table and storms upstairs to take a shower.
Fuck college, she thinks as she steps under the hot spray. She needs to see her girlfriend.
;;
Naomi, Gina and Effy arrive at the hospital shortly after seven; the rest of the world has yet to wake, but the enormous building is buzzing with activity, ambulances skidding across the concrete as they speed in and out of their docking space, red and blue lights flashing and sirens blaring, disturbing the stillness of the air. Naomi watches as people are unloaded from the backs of the vehicles and stretchered off, blood spattering their bodies and bones poking through their skin. She remembers the last time she rode in an ambulance, the way the metal of the stretcher had been too cold against her skin, how the speed at which they travelled made bile creep up her throat, and she says a silent prayer into the sky for these people to make it through alive.
Effy takes her hand as they enter the hospital through the sliding glass doors, Gina leading the way; her fingers are longer than the ones she's used to, but they fit with hers all the same, and Naomi is grateful for Effy's presence, sends a small smile her way to show it.
The second they step inside, Naomi is hit by a sense of nostalgia so strong she nearly doubles over at the force of it; there are three floors in her line of sight, connected by a staricase that twists its way between them like a vine, glass panels running along the sides of the walkways and reflecting the scene below. Doctors and nurses are scrambling about on every floor, fumbling with their pagers or patient charts; Naomi catches sight of a doctor talking to a sobbing family of four (the fifth is ice cold and stiff on a gurney somewhere, eyes dead and lifeless beneath their eyelids) and she is reminded of why she hates this place so much – people always leave missing something they came in with, an empty space in their chests that never stops aching, no matter how much time passes by.
The three of them make their way towards the front desk, before a voice calling Naomi's name stops them in their tracks.
The blonde turns toward the sound of the familiar voice, apprehension settling in her stomach as the woman skates towards them, courtesy of the wheelie-sneaks on her feet; her hair is longer now, Naomi notes, falling past her shoulders in gentle waves, and her cobalt eyes are alight with surprise (Naomi is used to seeing them clouded with tears, a reflex reaction to reading her test results or prognosis). The doctor slides to a halt in front of them, and Naomi greets her nervously. "Hello, Arizona."
Arizona smiles at them all, opens her mouth to say something before stopping abruptly. Her eyes grow wide and her body freezes as she registers the pained expressions on their faces, the fresh dark blue bruises on Naomi's arms, the way she is clinging to Effy's hand tightly. "No," Arizona breathes, shaking her head as she glances between them, "not again."
They remain silent, and Naomi feels as if all the sound has been sucked from the cavernous space, like they're stuck in a black hole or vacuum, unable to communicate as their lungs are starved of oxygen. Arizona's face twists into an expression of such distress Naomi feels as though knifed.
(When Gina breaks down for the third time, it is Arizona who pulls her mother into her arms and comforts her as they mourn the destruction of fifteen years of fighting the same battle, and as Naomi observes the wreckage, a thought burns in the back of her mind:
Everything is in pieces, and it can only be stitched back together so many times before the edges start to fray and it unravels, permanently).
;;
The next hour is a blur of medical procedures Naomi knows like the back of her hand, and that she hates more than anything else in the world.
Naomi lies on her stomach in a hospital bed, clad in a papery white gown that makes her skin itch uncomfortably with familiarity, and she has to clench her hands into fists to stop herself from tearing it from her body; she shuts her eyes tightly to stop tears from spilling onto her cheeks and bites her lip to keep from screaming something childish – though undeniably true – like this isn't fair! (This test will only tell her what she already knows, that she's dangerously ill and much closer to death than any seventeen year old ever should be. It's written all over her and she can feel it like poison in her veins, but Naomi doesn't want to hear that what she fears is true, because that makes everything far too real for her to handle).
Naomi hears Effy inhale sharply from beside her, and knows that Arizona has returned to her room with the needle she will use to take her bone marrow aspiration; it is at least four inches long and several millimetres in diameter, and Naomi can recall the exact shape and size of it as well as she can picture the brightness of Emily's smile or the sunset shade of her hair. It won't hurt, Naomi knows, when the needle pierces her skin and abuts the bone of her iliac crest in the small of her back – the anaesthetic has already numbed the area, and she can't feel a thing really – but an ache sparks in her chest as Arizona (somewhat pointlessly) explains the procedure in a soothing voice, snapping on some surgical gloves, because she's taking something from Naomi that will bring her closer to the darkness that has coloured her past in shades of black too many times to count.
Naomi opens her eyes when the aspirate needle penetrates her body – there's no pain, but she can feel it distantly, like one would hear an echo in a cave – to find her mum staring at their conjoined hands and Effy gazing fixedly at her hips, mouth open slightly in horror; when the brunette winces, Naomi knows that Arizona has twisted the needle to advance it through the bony cortex and into the marrow cavity, and the colour drains from Effy's face as the doctor attaches a syringe and sucks liquid bone marrow from Naomi's body.
The needle slips out of her with a slick, wet sound, and Naomi very nearly wretches; she catches sight of the syringe as Arizona moves away from her, full of the dull red liquid that she carries in her bones. It is disgusting, the colour of unpolished rubies, and Naomi feels words form on the tip of her tongue: take it all, she wants to scream, suck it all out of me until my bones are empty, and it can't kill me more than it already has.
It doesn't really matter, after all.
Naomi knows she's dead either way.
;;
One of the things Emily loves most about Naomi is the blue of her eyes.
It strikes her as she's lighting a cigarette on a bench near Richmond Hill that the shade of them is almost exactly the same as the centre of the flame from her lighter, bright and electric and beautiful. Naomi is very much like a fire, Emily thinks, how she's so consuming and intense and pretty to look at, hard to control; always trying to escape.
Emily sighs, draws smoke into her lungs and flicks ash from the end of her fag, watches as it curls away from her as she exhales, disappearing. Naomi hadn't been home when Emily had gone to her house, and Gina was nowhere to be found, either; Emily had called Katie to see if she'd shown up at college, but Naomi had skipped out again. Effy wasn't answering her phone, and the redhead had lost count of how many times she'd tried to call her girlfriend to no avail. Anxiety had begun to build in her chest, pushing against her ribs almost as hard as her heart was beating against them. She'd searched for Naomi in every place she could think of – she'd even gone down to the lake – and had finally given up and decided to smoke to calm herself down before she exploded from all the worrying.
A thousand different scenarios of what could have happened to Naomi are firing in Emily's head like tiny bullets, ricocheting off the inside of her skull and burying themselves in her brain. Each one is more horrifying than the last; the fact that Gina is missing too increases her fear tenfold – was she hurting Naomi? Was that why her beautiful girlfriend's body was patterned with bruises and black and blue all over, why she didn't want Emily to touch her?
Emily throws her fag to the ground in frustration, grinds the fire out with the toe of her shoe with much more force than is necessary to keep from screaming out her frustration; it's as she's running her hands through her fiery hair and looking to the horizon to calm herself that she sees her, right at the bottom of the hill beneath a tree, looking lovely as always and yet so small in her pig shirt, and before Emily knows what she's doing she's racing towards Naomi and throwing herself into her girlfriend's arms.
Naomi makes an oompf sound at the force of impact as she slams back into the bark of the tree, and they almost collapse in a heap to the floor but somehow manage to stay upright. Emily wraps her arms around her girlfriend as tightly as she can, presses kisses to her neck and shoulders and wherever else she can reach, breathing in her smell of tabacco and mint and home, sighing her relief into her lover's chest at finding Naomi safe.
"Emily?" Naomi asks, pulling away from her to look into her eyes. "Em, are you okay?"
Naomi once told her that she was the easiest person in the world to read, because everything she was feeling was written on her face, clear as day; Emily guesses that must be true, because she doesn't even have time to explain before Naomi pushes their lips together, slides her hot tongue into her mouth and her long fingers into Emily's hair; her own hands settle on Naomi's back near her hips, and the blonde visibly flinches and makes a noise in her throat that reminds Emily of why they are kissing in lieu of actual apologies in the first place.
Emily breaks away from Naomi, drops her hands to her sides and tries not to cry at how much her heart is hurting. "Tell me," Emily pleads, and she can taste the desperation of her words on her tongue as they leave her lips. "Please, Naoms, you have to tell me what's going on."
Naomi shifts her eyes – her beautiful blue eyes – away from Emily's and shakes her head, muttering, "Nothing's going on, Em, I don't know what you're –"
"Don't!" Emily cries, because it's such a fucking lie and they both know it, and she's too scared for Naomi to put up with her bullshit. "Don't tell me there's nothing going on, Naomi! You won't let me touch you, and when I do I end up hurting you because you're covered in bruises." Naomi freezes at that, and she looks so scared that Emily feels her heart break a little in her chest. "You can tell me, you have to tell me, okay? I'm so fucking worried, Naoms, okay, I don't – who's hurting you?"
Emily sees the way the pain in her voice hurts Naomi by how her eyes change, the way they squint together and grow wet and shiny with tears. Naomi rubs at them quickly, drags her hand through her hair and chokes out, "Look, Em, you don't understand –"
She breaks off when Emily's mahogany eyes widen in horror, and follows the redhead's line of sight.
(The cuts are still an angry red, snaking across the inside of her wrist in thick, long lines, bleeding into navy bruises the size of fifty pence pieces all along her forearm).
As Naomi looks at her helplessly with guilty eyes, everything clicks in Emily's head.
Naomi is hurting herself.
"No, Em, no, it's not – it's not what it looks like, I promise –" Naomi takes a step towards her and she backs away, unable to process what this means – Naomi, her beautiful and amazing Naomi, is hurting herself, on purpose, and people only do that when they're upset or depressed –
– why didn't Emily notice sooner that Naomi was hurting, she thought they were happy and in love –
– oh God, is this her fault? Did she do or say something to Naomi that made her –
"Emily!" Naomi shouts, shaking her shoulders and snapping the redhead out of her thought process and into reality, and for the first time ever, Naomi's touch burns her skin unpleasantly and she slips out of her grasp, backing away from her slowly.
"Em, please, I can explain –" Naomi begs, but Emily doesn't want to know, not anymore; she's deathly afraid of what Naomi will tell her, that she's played a part in her girlfriend's self destruction. It makes her head hurt and her insides feel like someone's twisted them into knots, tied them around her heart and crushed all the air from her lungs.
(There is a moment where Emily looks into the blue eyes she loves so much and doesn't recognise the girl they belong to, and even though it's what she hates most about Naomi and it's a fucking awful thing to do, Emily finds herself turning her back on her girlfriend and running away from her, each heartwrenching cry of Emily that follows after her echoing in her head and pushing tears down her cheek.
Emily knows that Naomi probably thinks she's abandoned her and left her alone beneath the tree, but Emily is sure that if she were to fall to the grass beneath her feet she'd find broken pieces of Emily's heart).
;;
Jenna Fitch doesn't cry easily.
She hadn't cried at her mother's funeral, or when she'd given birth to her children; she hadn't cried when she'd broken her arm when she was seven, or when her father had walked out on her mother and brothers when she was fifteen. She is good at dealing with emotional pain, which is why she's so good at her job; as a nurse, she sees horrific things happen all the time, to innocent people who do nothing to deserve it, and she has to bottle up the pain these tragedies cause her so it doesn't distract her from saving others.
Jenna is sorting out patient charts when she sees her, the white blonde hair and sea-blue eyes of that girl unmistakeable under the bright lights of the hospital hallway. Jenna feels the familiar sensation of dislike spike in her chest at the sight of her entering the hospital, but it vanishes when she comes close enough for Jenna to see her clearly.
Naomi's eyes are wide and glassy like watch faces, her cheeks as pale as chalk and slick with tears. A string of bruises bloom on the skin of her left forearm in the shape of lily pads, large and severely discoloured, and she moves slowly, as though in pain. Naomi passes Jenna without glancing at her once, her face twisted with intense anguish as more tears slip from her eyes, and the Scottish nurse finds herself following her down the hallway silently, uneasiness pooling in her stomach.
Naomi walks into the Oncology ward, and Jenna's breath catches in her throat.
Oncology.
Cancer.
Jenna watches from the doorway of Naomi's hospital room as Dr Arizona Robbins – the Head of PED's – sits in front of Naomi, a woman Jenna assumes to be her mother and that Stonem girl, and announces in a shaky voice: I have the test results of your bone marrow aspiration, Naomi.
Oh God, no, Jenna prays, suddenly sick to her stomach. Don't say it, please don't say it –
And? Naomi's voice is tiny, a trembling whisper that barely qualifies as sound. She grips the hands of the people either side of her on the bed, knuckles white from the strain.
Dr Robbins' hands shake. Your results show an accumulation of promyelocytes in your bone marrow and leukocytosis in your peripheral blood –
A sound unlike anything Jenna has ever heard before in her life is ripped from the lungs of Naomi's mother (Jenna clamps a hand over her mouth to prevent a similar noise escaping her own throat) before she collapses into herself and begins to sob uncontrollably; Effy's face disintegrates as she watches the woman's breakdown, face crumpling in understanding.
Naomi remains frozen, an island in a sea of chaos, face tightening in resignation as her world dissolves around her.
Jenna watches through blurry eyes as Naomi opens her mouth and confirms what Jenna has already figured out, but wishes with everything she has not to be true.
The leukemia's back.