To Love A Broken Heart

Chapter 8

Maia POV

The room smelt of cleaning products. It was very sterile. Almost like a hospital. I opened my eyes and sure enough it was a hospital. In an out patient room. The paper on the squish table I was on crinkled and made sound with every little movement I made. The dark purple walls were meant to feel welcoming and safe, but to me. It felt like a prison. The computer on the desk in the corner stared back at me, with its blank login screen. 

My dad sat in a chair in front of me. He looked dressed up, like he just came from work. In a pale blue button up shirt with a black suit jacket and black dress pants. 

I, myself was in skinny jeans and a hoodie. This time a dark maroon. 

I brushed my hair behind my ear anxiously. Waiting for the wooden door to creak open and Dr. Adams to appear. 

No sooner did I think it, it happened. The door opened and Dr. Adams showed his face. He looked older, his blonde hair done professionally. A white dr. Coat on top of his light pink button up and dark blue dress pants. His tan framed glasses finished off his professional look. He shook hands with my dad greeting him, before his pale brown eyes connected with mine. "Maia". He greeted me. 

I shook his hand as well, which was weird considering we usually hugged. "How's school going"?

I shrugged my shoulders. "It's fine. Just school". 

"You're a senior this year, correct"?

I nodded my head. "Yes sir". 

Sir? I never called him sir. Always Doc. "Wow. Time sure flies. Are you looking into University, or going straight to the workforce". 

I rolled my eyes. "Cut the shit". I snarled. 

What the hell? I'm never like this. He looked taken back. His eyes widened. "What's wrong? You always tell me everything looks fine, before asking how I am, and how everything's going, so cut the shit and tell me". 

He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look. I'll be honest with you. You've been my patient for 17 years and I've done all I've could. I talk over your case with some of my colleagues. They all agree with my next step of treatment". His eyes met mine and told me what he was about to say. "I think it's time we put you on the transplant list". 

My whole world shattered. The air in my lungs felt like it was sucked out. I couldn't breath. Everything began to hurt. My legs, arms, feet, heart, lungs, all of it. Felt so much pain. All the words he spoke next missed my ears. 

I shot straight up in bed, gasping for the air the dream took from me. I wasn't on a table, in a hospital. I was in my room. My room where I was safe, where nothing could hurt me and I could get lost in my drawings. Where everything just felt perfect. 

My alarm went off beside me, but I turned it off. I took a few more deep breaths of air before swinging my feet out of my blankets and onto the rough carpet below. I got out of bed heading straight for the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror staring at the broken girl in front of me. The top of the pale scar stared back at me. Standing out and mocking me as always. 

My eyes were dark with bags, showing that I slept like shit. My hair stuck out on all ends from the rough sleep I had. I picked up the brush off the counter removing all notice of the dream, besides the memories that would stay. 

I used the bathroom as I did every morning. Then went back to my room to get dressed for school. My numerous pill bottles stood upright against the back wall on my desk, the orange hue standing out against my blue walls. 

To me, blue always reads out as calm. It's my favorite color and just helps me relax. I discarded my pajama pants to my hamper and switched them out for black leggings. My T-shirt I switched out for a peach sports bra and white shirt. I topped it off with a black hoodie to match my unhappy mood. I grabbed my sketch pad and phone off the desk putting them both in my backpack.