Author's Note: I am so sorry this took so long to get up, but I got my GCSE results a few days ago and me and my friends have been celebrating and getting ready for Sixth Form, so I've been super busy. I am going to try and update much quicker from now on, as I'd really like to finish this before school starts – there's only a few chapters left now, I reckon. To make up for the delay, this chapter is over 8,000 words long (IKR?) so it's in two parts, and you all know what happens if you review both parts… Also, thanks so much to Hoden for rec-ing my fic and getting me some more readers, that was totally awesome And you should all be reading 'Never Say Never Again' because it is absolutely brilliant and if I don't find out what Naomi's secret is soon, I'm going to explode. JS.
Also, follow me on twitter if you like .com/safertohateher8
The pain is nothing like Naomi remembers.
She can feel it everywhere, in her bones, her gut, her chest, and she has no idea what's bleeding inside her but it feels like she's burst into flames on the inside, imagines the blood that's choking up her throat and out of her body to be smoke, desperate to escape and burning everything in its path.
There is far too much blood in her mouth and her lungs for her to scream at the agony of it all, but when she sees one of the doctors dragging Emily away from her and out of the room, sound almost escapes; no, she wants to plead, don't take her away from me, I'll die without her.
Another wave of blood erupts from her mouth, wet and sticky and posionous, and Naomi fears she'll die either way.
As everything gets redder, the energy is slowly sucked from her body, and Naomi has to fight to stay awake as she feels someone push her back into the bed, insert an IV into her hand and an oxygen tube into her nose.
Her vision starts to swim, and she catches sight of the array of different IV bags hanging above her head.
Intravenous fluids.
Plasma.
Blood.
A shockwave of pain shatters through her and Naomi's eyes roll back in her head as everything starts to turn black.
Naomi prays to every higher power she can think of that one of those things will save her life.
;;
Once, when Emily was six, she and Katie had been playing outside in their garden when Katie tripped over one of James' toy trucks and cut her knee open on a rock.
She had screamed loud enough to wake the dead as a slow and steady stream of blood trickled down her leg, and Emily had frozen where she stood, turned paper white at the sight of all the red staining Katie's skin, her socks, the grass.
She felt sick to her stomach, remained rooted to the spot even when her mother raced outside and yelled at her for not doing anything to help her twin, just watching as more and more blood spilled from the wound.
Katie had needed stitches, and refused to speak to her for a week for being so useless.
Emily watches Naomi bleed out before her, muscles locked tight and her throat sealed shut, and wonders what price she'll pay for her inadequacy, this time.
Emily feels someone curling their hands around her shoulders and pulling her out of the room, starts screaming at them and struggling to stay at Naomi's side as adrenaline kicks in, and suddenly she's desperate to hold her, touch her, fix her, because she might not get the chance to again.
But whoever is clutching her is doing so tightly, a firm grip that drags Emily out into the hall as doctors flood into Naomi's room and swarm around her like bees. They have their hands all over her, and Emily wants to scream at them to be careful because Naomi is tiny and fragile and they might break her.
Emily can see everything that is happening through the window to the hospital room, and breaks free from her mother's hold to press herself against the glass, wanting to be as close to Naomi as she can. There is hardly an inch of her that isn't covered in blood, and Emily starts crying and choking on air as she watches it continue to pour from her nose and mouth, spread across her thighs, the crimson clashing starkly against the white pallor of her skin as she thrashes about on the bed in agony.
(Emily's pain renders her immobile, utterly helpless against the cancer that's killing the girl she's in love with.)
Gina collapses beside her, crying silently and choking out a mantra of no no no please no in a voice that rips Emily in two, because fuck, she might really lose Naomi, this time.
Emily reaches for her hand blindly, feels Effy wrap an arm around them both from behind, the three of them striving to hold each other together.
It's all a little futile, Emily thinks, feeling Effy's tears soak through her shirt and Gina's hand shake in her own, because they are clearly already broken.
"What are they doing to her?" The words fall from her lips unbidden, the sight of Naomi being pumped full of whatever the fuck is in those IV bags making bile rise in her throat, and none of it seems to be working, because she's still losing blood, and before Emily can stop it the thought that she's running out of it crosses her mind and makes her blanch violently.
Running out of blood, and out of time.
Her mother speaks up from beside her. "They're infusing her with plasma, so the platelets will clot her blood and the bleeding will stop. They're giving her blood, too, to make up for what she's losing. The IV fluids compensate for lost fluid volume, and the oxygen tubes increase the efficiency of her remaining blood supply." Emily feels a hand rubbing circles on her back, something her mother did to calm her when she was little. "Em, they're saving her life."
Gina crumples to the floor, gasping for air that she can't seem to keep in her lungs; Emily can't imagine how it must feel to have lived through this before, the horror of watching someone you love on the brink of death; this is the first time it's happened to her, and she already feels like parts of her are dying with every second that Naomi keeps bleeding.
And it's far from over.
"I think we need to call the others."
Emily can't look at Effy, because she never blows her composure, ever – she's Effy fucking Stonem for Christ's sake – and if she has to see the tortured look on her face, the resignation in her eyes, the fucking awful reality of it will hit her and she'll stop believing that maybe there's a chance Naomi will make it out of this okay.
If Emily loses that faith, she'll die with Naomi.
Effy sounds defeated. "They should be here, Emily."
"She's going to be fine." Emily swallows hard, watches the way Naomi's face tightens with pain, a sheen of sweat slick on her pale skin, the doctors sticking her with needles full of meds that don't look like they're working. It makes her ache, horribly. "Naoms will make it through this."
Effy is silent, and what she isn't saying breaks Emily apart into jagged pieces, the sharp edges cutting her open so that she's bleeding, too.
;;
Jenna should be used to this.
She sees this every day, the ache of loss shining brightly in a mother's eyes or a young child's tears as they are told their loved one didn't make it, that they're gone and aren't coming back; she holds strangers in her arms as they tear at the seams, the very foundations of their world crumbling down around them, and tries to say or do something to stitch them back together.
Doing so has never been this painful.
She cannot bear to watch Emily watch Naomi die – Jenna hates that she can't be more optimistic, but it really isn't looking good – and the way her daughter is gripping so tightly to that Stonem girl, who looks so young and helpless that Jenna feels her hatred for her lessen slightly, hurts her in a way that can never be remedied, because there is just no protecting Emily from this.
And Gina – Jenna looks at Emily, thinks of Katie and James, and knows that what is happening to Naomi is absolutely killing her.
There could be nothing worse in the world than losing a child.
"You shouldn't be here, any of you," Jenna states, taking a step forward. "You should go to the waiting room, the doctors will find you when – "
"When what?" Emily spits, spinning around to face her. "When it's over? When she's dead?"
"You shouldn't be watching this, Em, it's not good for you – "
"You don't get to decide what's good for me!" Emily is livid, her face flushed and voice loud. "I'm not going to leave her, I can't, I need to be here for her."
Jenna reaches out for her, but Emily flinches violently and pulls away. "Don't you fucking dare start acting like my mother now, or pretend that you care about Naomi because you don't give a shit! You hate her, you hate that I'm in love with her and you hate that you can't do anything about it." Emily wraps her arms around herself, the hurt in her voice pricking at Jenna's skin. "Are you happy, now that you're getting what you wanted?"
"I never wanted this!" Jenna tries to touch Emily, recoils in shock when she slaps her across the cheek with an open hand, blood rushing to the surface of her skin; it stings more than the force of the slap calls for.
"Emily, please – " But Emily just shakes her head, her face crumpling as she turns away from her with a finality that freezes Jenna's insides into solid blocks of ice, the bitter cold burning her like the harsh bite of winter.
Gina picks herself up from the floor and gathers the two girls into her arms, and looking at her face feels like looking into a mirror. "I can't watch," she whispers, stroking Emily's hair and squeezing Effy's hip. "It's too – she wouldn't want us to see her like this, you know she wouldn't. I wish I could be stronger for her, but I'm not. It hurts too much," and Emily clutches her tightly, guilt twisting her face, because she's not strong enough, either.
Effy nods from where she's tucked under Gina's chin, a single tear tracing down her cheek, and gently tugs on Emily's hand to get them moving away from the devastation before them, looking back at Jenna over her shoulder with an apology in her eyes.
Jenna watches them go, empty with a numbness she can feel in her bones, and realises she was right.
There is nothing worse than losing a child.
;;
(Katie.)
Naomi has leukemia. Doesn't look good. Get to hospital now.
Katie drops her phone to her bedroom floor, stares at it in shock until the screen's glow dissipates and Effy's text can no longer be seen.
It's a joke, Katie thinks, becoming unbearably hot with panic and steadying herself against a wall, horrifically dizzy. It's got to be a fucking joke, something stupid and retarded and sick that only a twisted cunt like Effy would find funny, because Naomi is fine; Katie had seen her only two days ago, at college on Monday, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with her then, and things like this don't happen that quickly, and like, Emily would have told her if something was wrong.
The air rushes from Katie's lungs as her legs give out beneath her.
She's covered in bruises, Kay. They're all over her.
I'm just so worried that someone could be hurting her.What if she tells us something awful?
Katie's flying down the stairs and out of the door with a speed she didn't know she had, crashing into her dad and James on the driveway; she shakes off her dad's questions and tells him to just fucking drive her to the hospital because Naomi is there and there's something wrong with her and like, she has to see her before –
It's only when she's sat next to James in the backseat – who is gripping her hand tightly with his head buried in her shoulder, her dad breaking several speed limits as he floors the accelerator, knuckles white where he's gripping the wheel so hard Katie fears it might snap – does she realise just how much her whole fucking family cares about Naomi.
(Except her mum, but fuck her, because she knows fuck all about Naomi Campbell.)
It takes the feeling of her cheeks getting wet to make Katie realise the reason everything around her is blurry and out of focus is because she's crying.
;;
(Cook.)
Naomi has leukemia. Doesn't look good. Get to hospital now.
He's smoking in the park when Effy's text comes in, and the words paralyse his chest with an ice cold feeling that has him shivering all over, unable to release the smoke he's inhaled even as it burns his lungs and makes it near impossible to breathe.
Cook deletes the text, shakes his head with his face screwed up even as tears scald his eyes. He crushes his fag in the palm of his hand, listens as his skin sizzles and then clenches his hand into a fist and punches it into the side of the slide he's leaning against, over and over until the metal is a dented, bloody mess and his knuckles are worn down to the bone.
That pain doesn't compare to the one that's eating through his chest, gnawing at the muscle that's beating a hundred times faster than it should be.
Cook starts running as fast as he can, determined to race to the hospital and prove that this isn't true, that Effy has it wrong somehow, because there's no fucking way this can be happening.
Cook remembers the last time he saw Naomi, at college on Monday, the way something had been off about her; Cook's never been particularly good at reading people, but the look in her eyes had been troubled at best. At worst –
Cook starts crying so hard the tears run off his face and down his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt.
It feels a lot like drowning.
;;
It's chaos.
"Her systolic BP has fallen to 100mmHg and keeps decreasing – "
"Marked tachycardia of over 120 bpm and tachypnea of over 30 bpm – "
"Systolic pressure is still decreasing – "
"30-40% blood volume loss, she's becoming anxious – "
"She needs more blood, two bags of A negative, now – "
Total chaos.
;;
(Panda.)
Naomi has leukemia. Doesn't look good. Get to hospital now.
Her mum is telling her to put her phone away, that it's impolite to use one when at the dinner table, but Panda's not listening; her mouth falls open as she reads the message, a large bite of Yorkshire pudding dropping out and splattering gravy over her shirt as it hits her plate, and Panda doesn't even care that her mum is yelling at her and that this shirt is her favourite, because this is awful.
Panda's not entirely sure what leukemia is, knows it's cancer but doesn't know much else besides that. She knows it's bad, though, well bad, and the word sounds horrible in her head, gives her a migraine like when she eats too much ice cream too fast and has to screw her face up until it goes away.
It feels like that, but much worse, because Naomi is her friend and Panda might not know much about it, but she is one hundred percent sure that leukemia doesn't go away if you wait it out like brain freeze does.
In fact, Panda is almost certain that if you wait too long, leukemia will kill you.
Panda bolts from the table, leaving a full plate of food and her screaming mother behind, and half legs it to the bus stop a few streets from her house.
She thinks of last year, and the girl she'd never actually spoken to saving her skin at her pyjama party by telling her mum that Thommo was her boyfriend, even though she wanted to surf and turf Emily, and feels something tugging her heart down into her stomach.
Panda crosses her fingers, closes her eyes, and makes a wish.
;;
(Freddie.)
Naomi has leukemia. Doesn't look good. Get to hospital now.
When Freddie had seen that he'd got a text from Effy, he'd smiled unwillingly, excited at the prospect that she wanted to talk to him. It drops from his face the second he reads the first three words, his expression slack in disbelief, convinced the spliff he's smoking is playing tricks on him, fucking with his mind, because this sort of shit doesn't happen in real life.
It's the stuff of horror films, this.
He sits up on his sofa in the shed, throws the spliff to the floor and shakes his head, rereads the message several times over – nothing changes, and reality punches through the haze of his high like an iron fist.
Freddie doesn't know Naomi all that well, had spent much of last year wrapped up in his own drama with Effy and Cook and pretty much ignored everyone else, but he likes her – she's funny, and smart, clever with words and doesn't take shit from anyone, which Freddie respects because he's never been that brave in his life.
And she'd tried to help him. That one time in English, when Josie had been prattling on about Hamlet, and Naomi had basically told him to fucking grow a pair and go after what he wanted instead of being a boring old wanker wallowing in self-pity.
She was there for him, then. And Freddie is going to there for her, now.
;;
"Start inotrope therapy – dopamine and noradrenaline, she's bleeding out – "
The pain is excruciating, but Naomi fights to stay awake, knows that if she lets the blackness take over she'll never see the light of day again.
Never see Emily again.
Naomi feels needles stick into her skin, liquid burning through her veins where her blood used to be (it's still pouring out of her like water from a tap; she can feel it bubbling inside her and spreading beneath her skin, and it feels like she's drowning on the inside) and almost bites through her lip trying not to scream.
There's a fire raging inside her, and it's so fucking tempting to just let go and put an end to the pain.
Her eyes flutter closed, and she pictures Emily's brown ones, can see in her mind the hurt reflected in them and how it rivals her own.
Naomi opens them again, and keeps fighting.
;;
(JJ.)
Naomi has leukemia. Doesn't look good. Get to hospital now.
It takes JJ three seconds to read the text message, and approximately another second and a half to process the magnitude of the information it contains. Another five seconds pass whilst he blinks a dozen or so times blankly, a number of emotions he can't name or control raging inside him, and it takes seven more before he hurtles downstairs and into his kitchen, wrenching open his fridge door and pulling out the mango juice with shaking hands, drinking directly from the bottle until it's empty.
For the first time ever, it doesn't do a fucking thing to help.
JJ starts breathing heavily, expressing himself the only way he knows how and kicking the kitchen cabinets as hard as he can and yelling his frustration and pent up feelings into his empty house, glad his mum isn't home because he fears if she came near him he'd strike her in his anger.
(Here is what JJ knows about leukemia:
It's a malignant disease of the bone marrow and blood, characterized by the uncontrolled accumulation of blood cells.
Incidence rates for all types of leukemia are higher among males than among females.
Each year around 7,400 people are diagnosed with leukemia in the UK – around 20 people each day.
Leukemia is the eleventh most common cause of cancer death in the UK, causing around 4,300 deaths each year.)
For the first time ever, JJ despises the fact that he knows something about everything.
He knows Naomi doesn't like him too much, because he had sex with Emily, and the blonde has always kind of scared him, but she makes Emily happy, and she's much nicer than she used to be, and she's pretty and sort of lovely when she wants to be and he never got the chance to apologise for almost ruining things for her and Emily – not that he knew what was going on, but still – and now he might never get the oppurtunity.
Fucking shitification, JJ thinks, slamming his front door so hard the glass panes nearly shatter, tearing up the street as fast as his legs will carry him.
;;
(Thomas.)
Naomi has leukemia. Doesn't look good. Get to hospital now.
Thomas had learned very quickly that England was not the nice place he'd once thought; it was full of drugs, bad people, more crime than he'd ever encountered, and a generation who didn't understand anything about the world.
But this – Thomas believes this to be the worst thing of all.
Thomas knows disease, sees how it affects his little brother Daniel, makes him sick when he has done nothing to deserve it, and sometimes it makes him question his belief in God as well as this country.
Thomas casts his thoughts to Naomi, the bright and intelligent young girl who is passionate about helping people and saving the world, making it a better place for others, and finds his faith in his God fading even more.
A single tear slips down his cheek as he thinks of how this will break everyone, when they have only just put themselves back together from the horrors of last year. Naomi is a good person, and Thomas finds it entirely unfair that something so awful has been inflicted upon her; she has always been kind to him, had helped him sell those drugs last year when he needed the money to pay for his flat, even though he was a stranger to her.
Thomas wipes his eyes and bows his head in prayer, hoping more than ever before that this time, his God will listen to him.