The Story Of Us

Drive Kirstie. Drive.

It was possibly the longest flight I had been on in my life. I had to help Mitch twice. He kept slipping into uncontrollable fits of pain. At one point I thought they were going to land the plane. I kept telling the stewards that he was ok and that we just needed to wait until the painkillers kicked in but they kept coming back to us.

I couldn't help but wonder how Mitch felt. He was in dyer pain and people were starring at him. Some people were trying to help. They asked if they could do anything, if he wanted water. But truthfully they just needed to back away and give him space.

He fell asleep at one point of the flight. Emotional exhaustion. So I got up to go to the bathroom. I could feel people pitiful stares on my back. The soft whisper of some people came out of the chatter on the plane, "poor kid," "he's so young," "that must be so much to deal with," "how is he not breaking down." They didn't know though. I was breaking down, but on the inside.

As I stepped out of the bathroom I bumped into a little kid. I stepped back and he looked up at me. "Sorry, kiddo." I stepped past him but I felt him tug on my pants.

"Sir?" He asked. I turned around and bent down to his height. He had round blue eyes with brown hair. He was holding tightly onto a teddy and a bag of candy.

"Yes, little man." I answered smiling at him.

"Is that your boyfriend?" He asked, pointing in the general direction of our seat. I nodded, swallowing hard. I was nervous about what he would say. "Is he hurting?" The kid asked. I nodded my head and looked down at my knees. "Can I make it better?" He asked.

I smiled down at him. "It's not like that. He is very sick. I just need to get him home and to a hospital." I said. The little boys face fell a little. He looked me dead in the eye when he spoke again.

"Is he dying?" He asked. I hesitated a little. I didn't know him but he was only a kid. I nodded my head slowly. I could feel the tears filling my eyes. I couldn't cry, not in front of all these people.

The kid looked me up and down before he handed me his teddy. I looked at it questioningly. "Whenever I'm sad I like to cuddle with my teddy bear. Whenever I hurt I like to cuddle with him too. I've got lots of teddy bears at home. You should keep this one and give it to your boyfriend. He sounds like he needs it." He dropped it into my hands and I smiled.

"Thank you." I said. The kid gave me one last smile before he ran off back to his seat. I walked back to my seat and plopped myself down. I tucked the teddy under Mitch's arm and rested my head back.

When we landed I woke him up. He stood and limped his way off of the plane. It was scary how shaky he looked when he walked. I wanted all of his pain, all of his hurt to be transferred onto me but I couldn't do that.

As we went through customs I saw the waiting area for collection. There was a big group of people waited for their loved ones to arrive. As we got closer their faces became clear and I saw Kirstie standing there. I turned my head to Mitch, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open, he was having trouble walking, he looked like he was in so much pain.

To my left there was a rack of wheelchairs. I ran over and took one. Pulling it over to where Mitch was standing. "Sit down." I whispered in his ear. His legs gave way and he fell back into the chair. I pushed him along, one hand on the baggage cart and the other grasping the handle of the wheelchair.

Kirstie rushed forward as soon as she saw us. She grabbed the baggage cart from me and began to push it. I looked down at Mitch who had his eyes closed, I could see by the features of his face that he was going to go through a belt of pain any second. "We need to get to your car, quickly." I told Kirstie and she nodded. She ran forward towards the parking lot.

The second she opened the door of the car, Mitch's hands grasped tightly onto the arm rests of the chair. I stopped pushing him and ran round the front of the chair. I lifted him into my arms and lay him in the back seat. His hands went over his ears as he gasped for breath again.

I kicked the chair away and climbed into the back of the car. I pulled Mitch into my arms. "Drive, Kirstie. Drive!" I yelled at her.

As the car rattled down the road, Mitch's breathing got harder and harder. "Shhh.... It's alright. We're going to the hospital now." I consoled. His head pressed against my chest. All he could do was concentrate on breathing. He couldn't even talk.

When we got to the hospital I ran inside, Mitch bouncing up and down in my arms. A nurse immediately came to my aid, calling for a doctor. The doctor ran over with a mask. He attached it to the oxygen tank and lay Mitch down on a trolley bed.

Mitch's hand found the front of the mask and he grasped onto it for life. He curled into a ball as we pushed him along the corridor. They stopped me and Kirstie outside the door and told us they would come and talk to us when they had stabilised him.

I fell back into a waiting room chair. Kirstie sat down next to me. She broke down into a puddle of tears. I clasped her tight. "He'll be fine. Don't you worry. He's a fighter." I said. I told myself that I was saying those words to Kirstie but deep down I think I was saying them to myself.

A/N
Sorry again.....

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