The Love In Our Lungs

Chapter 11

A new day has come, and I find myself calm. A tiny bit of excitement is going through my entire body. My mother had gone off to the coffee shop to get some red velvet cupcakes Stella made for us, more specifically, me, since she knew of my infatuation with the treats.

Three days have passed of me avoiding the outside world. Three dull days of doing nothing. Thing is that today we are going back to the hospital. My mother had to go get some medicines, and I decided to tag along-given the fact that I had nothing to do and I wanted to visit Dylan.

I had yet to visit the coffee shop since Friday, maybe go tomorrow since Stella doesn't work that much on Tuesdays. I walk around the house with my white socks against the hard wooden floor. The calmness diminishes a bit more every time I hear the wheels of the backpack being dragged by me. And it is becoming more difficult for me to drag it up and down the stairs given the weight of it.

In the kitchen, I try to reach up to the counter where some cereal is being held. My hand makes it to the carton box and I grab it tightly, but the movement of my arm causes one of the tubes on my nose to fall out of my nostril.

After placing the box on the marble counter, I grab the tube and connect it back to my nose. I cough, my lungs feeling tense. Just as I was about to dive into my cereal, I remember having to take some medicine. Groaning, I make my way toward the stairs, where I begin to drag myself and the backpack up the staircase.

I swallow the pills with a bit of water, all while looking at myself in the mirror. I sometimes wish to just grab my face and turn it into the face of someone happy. The universe wouldn't let me change my past, it's already too late for that anyway.

My hands slowly reach up to grab a hold of my neck, and soon I stop the air from going through to my lungs. I think about all the times I used to have control of my life. Of how I would always roll the dice first, every time my father, mother, and I would play a game. Now I barely have control of myself. My vision blurs, and I stop, letting the tears flow out of my eyes. I don't stop them from coming, and when I collapse on the floor, I hold tightly onto the handle of the backpack.

I am once again left with the lonesome feeling, and a mind full of regret to drown myself in.

Sitting on the couch, I hear the front door open. I don't take my eyes away from what I am drawing. I see my mother walk in and go to the kitchen, which is not far away from where I am resting. When she notices I have acknowledged her presence she begins to speak.

"I brought those cupcakes Stella told me so much about."

"That's great." The enthusiasm is very noticeable in my squeaky voice. She clears her throat.

"And I also talked to that Tyler guy..." I choke on my own saliva. Did I really just hear her say that? Or am I just hallucinating? Maybe I am, I wouldn't be surprised if my own subconscious was too focused on making Tyler care about me, that I was just imagining what I wanted my reality to become.

"Asked me why you weren't at school," and then, I ask her the only thing that I could actually care about at the moment.

"You didn't tell him did you?" My voice is shaky as I say this, my eyes no longer focused on the drawing, but rather on the soft pillow in front of me.

"I had to since you probably were never going to," my eyes go wide. She told Tyler about it, and now for sure, if he isn't going to ignore me, he isn't going to treat me the same way he did back when we were under that bridge, or at school when he gave me a piggyback ride. He would become like Lola and all those people that hated me for what I had in me.

I shake my head and finally look at her. When she notices my expression of panic, she sighs and walks toward me. Now she is sitting on the couch with me.