𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐭

𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲

Talking to Jenna helped me more than I thought mentally but the problems seem to be still there. I don't feel like mending things with anyone because so much else is going on around me. Finals are around the corner and I have studied nothing.

The only thing I've been doing is staying in the hospital, occosionally texting Lucy back but that's it. I don't know how I'm going to be able to learn everything in a few months but it seems like I have to because the school is not taking any excuses.

Funny, you thought a dying mom would be a bonus in school but seems like it's not. Too early for dark humor?

Probably.

Mom is getting sicker and sicker by time and we all know the inevitable is coming. She tells us she's fine but I know she feels like shit. The cancer is practically nagging at her last resources like a virus send from the devil himself. I hate leaving her alone for just an hour but I desperately needed a shower and I wanted to change my bag of clothes but now I've been sitting on my bed for half an hour and stare at the wall like it's the most interesting thing I've ever seen in my life.

The window is opened making the cold Christmas air cling to my skin while my wet hair is dripping onto my favorite led zeppelin shirt. If mom would be here right now she would say that I'm going to get sick but she's not. And she's not going to be in the long run.

I let out a deep sigh and hug my knees to my chest while I feel the tears roll from my cheeks. I've mastered the art of crying quietly for a few weeks now and the only time I'm allowing myself to cry is when I'm alone. It would make mom devastated if she knew I'd cried every night beside her when she's fast asleep and I don't want to put her under more pressure.

Someone disturbs my silent cries with a knock making my head snap up and I quickly swipe the tears from my cheeks and clear my throat.

"Who is it?" Instead of answering the door opens and Jenna pokes her head through the door.

"Oh it's you." I say relieved and hug my knees again and lay my cheek on them motioning for her to come in. She smiles lightly and closes the door behind her before she walks over to my bed and sits down beside me.

"Tarver said he would drive us to the hospital if we'd wait twenty minutes." She says and I shoot her an obvious look because I'm not gonna drive with him for the life of me and she knows that.

"Listen it was wrong of him to not tell you but-"

"No there is no but. He didn't tell me and that's awful. Period." I state because even if she suddenly is on the being 'wise' trip I'm not going to let anyone talk me into this. Why is no one talking to Tarver? Why is everyone getting on my back and telling me to fix everything?

I want to use my privilige of being a stupid teenager and not talk to Tarver as long as I feel like it.

"Tarver did what he thought was right and believe me when I tell you that he regrets it like nothing else."

"Doesn't seem like it." I say and stand up to finish up packing my back. The look Jenna is giving me is making me nervous and I'm having an excuse if I pack up my things.

"Stop being stubborn for once Arwen. We all know you love Tarver and that you don't like fighting with him. Our mom is dying and the last thing she needs is going while her children are fighting."

I don't answer her and throw a few new shirts into my bag. I hear her sigh and stand up from the bed to walk in front of me just to be ignored by me again.

She stays quiet while I pack and I look up when she says nothing to see her eyes trained on my trash bin. I follow her eyes to see Timothée's mixtape laying on top of the notebook he gave me. I threw it in there in a sudden burst of rage but I couldn't get it over me to really bring it out to the trash.