A Lover To Him

Chapter Thirty-nine, Drugged?

Caine Williams 

I look around the plane, sighing deeply as I sink back into my chair. I've tried to do some work, but I can't get my mind to focus on the papers in front of me. Logical, since I'm too tired and too worried to focus on something that seems so useless. I don't have the focus to read through the paragraphs of a stupid deal, especially when my mind isn't in the right state. 

Yet, it's the only way to make sure time doesn't seem to pass so slowly in this hospital. I have tried to ignore the feeling that's eating me up from the inside, but it's useless. The feeling won't go away until I know everything is going to be alright. It's a feeling that makes you think you can't relax because it's keeping you restless. 

It's strange to feel that kind of emotion for the first time in my entire life. I have read about it countless times in books, but I have never experienced it myself. Mostly, because I'm not too familiar with my own emotions. I used to hide them all the time, burying them in a little box inside of me and sealing it with an unbreakable lock. 

Well, it was supposed to be unbreakable. 

I look around again, seeing people enjoy themselves while watching movies or eating a snack. Some of them whisper softly together before laughing or smiling. Others trying to sleep a bit, but I'm sure they can't be asleep because of the baby crying somewhere near the end of the plane. I look outside the little window, seeing nothing but white clouds that shine beautifully because of the rising sun. 

It's annoying to see those people so happy and content while I'm almost sitting on the edge of my seat, waiting for the plane to land. Never has a flight lasted so long, or at least it feels like it lasts so long. It feels like only seconds are passing by instead of minutes or hours, and I put my phone away to make sure I stop myself from checking the time every five minutes. 

I have no clue what's going on back in Britain, I kind of hung up on Dylan abruptly and I tried calling her at the airport, but she was on a call. Now, I'm sitting restlessly in a plane, waiting for the seven-hour flight to be over so I can get to the hospital. Why did I have to be in New York when this kind of shit happens?

Not so soon after, the pilot announces that we're preparing to land, and the worried feelings in my stomach grow by the minute as we get closer to the ground. It's like reality is only kicking in now, like it was some kind of nightmare before. The reality of Mia getting in some kind of accident, the reality of the possibility that I could lose her. 

The reality kicks in harder when I'm on my way to the hospital in a cab, and the uneasy feeling still eats me up inside. I know I can't lose her, I won't be able to function when she's gone. I won't be able to see the light anymore, I realized a long time ago that she's my light. 

My light, my savior. 

I can't even think about not seeing her smile another time or not being able to hear her angelic voice. What would I do if I would never see her eyes sparkle and shine when she loves something again? There will be one thing I will regret for a lifetime when she's gone. 

Not telling her I loved her too when we spoke for the last time on the phone. The words were caught up in my throat when she said them out loud, but before I could answer her, she had hung up the phone. And while the unspoken words were felt by the both of us, I will regret forever to not have said them out loud to her. 

I have spent years keeping the words buried inside me, like I would be doomed if I were to ever say them out loud, and now, when I have finally the strength and the power to let them roll off my tongue, I might not be even able to let her hear them. The reality of that thought is hunting me like a jaguar hunts his prey, slowly and unnoticeable.