Sempre

[Sixteen]

.:Chapter Sixteen:.

♛Milena's POV ♛

Just a six hours ago, Neymar and I were laughing and joking around, having the time of our lives just in each other's presence. Now, he was in a critical condition in hospital, and there was a possibility that he could never play football again. If we could rewind time, I'd tell him not to play. He'd refuse straight away and think I'm delirious for banning him from leading his country to a probable victory, but at least I'd know in my heart that I could've stopped it from happening. If we could rewind time, I'd tell him to be careful, because at the end of the day, his health and well-being is more important to me than anything. I've just met him; he's a stranger, why should he matter? Why should I worry and fret over someone who I barely know? That's a selfish thought, carefully crafted by the devil and planted into my mind. I would never think that purposefully, because I like him.

I really, really like him.

Suddenly, a loud, sobbing wail caught my attention. It was getting closer and closer, heavy, thudding footsteps eventually accompanying it. The ruckus belonged to a middle aged woman, who was frantically asking doctors and nurses for the whereabouts of her son. A middle aged man and a young girl, probably around seventeen years of age, followed her, also in a state of panic. The girl looked familiar but I couldn't place my finger on where I had seen her before.

"Where is he?" She cried. "Where is my boy?"

"Please calm down, Mrs Goncalves. Neymar is in Room 231. No visitors are allowed as of yet but we will keep you updated with his condition." A doctor with a clipboard in his hand answered robotically. He gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder and walked back down the squeaky clean corridor.

My ears perked up at the mention of his name. I'm guessing they were Neymar's parents. As for the girl, I still had no clue.

I got up off of the hard plastic chair and cautiously approached the huddled group. Neymar's mother was ferociously sobbing into her husband's chest as he stroked her head and closed his eyes, a few tears slipping out from under his eyelids also. The girl was stood slightly apart from them and had her head in her hands as her shoulders shook violently.

"Are you Neymar's parents?" I asked gingerly. The girl's head snapped up instantly, revealing her tear stained face and red, swollen eyes.

"I'm his sister." She hiccuped as a few more tears slid down her face. I opened my arms and brought her in for a hug. She cried against my shoulder as I rubbed her back and hushed her, promising that everything would be okay. I realised I was giving her false hope, but deep down I knew that he would fight until his last breath for his family. In that moment, I couldn't help but think how wrong I was about her being his girlfriend.

"I'm Milena. I'm a friend of Neymar's." I introduced myself to the grief stricken family. My voice was wobbly and I was trying my best not to cry. I had to be strong and a means of support for them at a time like this.

A flash of realisation crossed across his mother's face. "You were there when he...?" She trailed off, but I knew what she was going to say. Just thinking about the incident was bad enough, talking about it made it a whole lot more real and absolute.

"Yeah." I swallowed a lump that had formed in my throat, but it wouldn't budge. It seemed as if the harder I tried, the more adamant it would be on staying there. 

"Thank you for being here." She reached out and squeezed my hand gently. I smiled back at her and gave her a slight nod, letting her know I wasn't going to leave.

The next two hours passed by extremely slowly, the agonising ticking of the clock beating my skull like a drum. Many times, I had gotten up, stretched, walked around and then sat back down again, only to continue the cycle moments later. The crying had died down now but every so often a sniffle could be heard coming from one of us.