Ghost Of You | cth

41. Won't Last, I'm Okay With That

~Calum

You know how you know you've hit rock bottom? When you're kneeling on the floor of the bathroom, holding hair back as the person you love most in this world coughs blood out of her lungs and into the toilet.

Paige woke up early this morning and rushed herself to the bathroom. Her abrupt movements caused by rushing from the bed to the bathroom woke me up in a panic. I quickly followed after her and knelt beside her, holding her hair away from her face as she let it all out.

I rubbed her back in attempt at soothing her and providing comfort, but I knew there was no use. The gagging and coughing coming from Paige can only mean one thing, she's in pain.

When it seemed like she was done coughing all the blood out, she removed her hands from the toilet bowl and relaxed her body against me with her legs out in front of her.

Her head leaned back against my chest as shallow, gravelly sounding breaths escaped through the small opening of her parted lips.

I pushed the hair that had stuck to her damp forehead away, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Baby, this isn't good. Let me call you an ambulance to the emergency room."

Her body felt limp against mine and she slowly shook her head, "No," She said with her eyes still closed. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," I said calmly even though I felt nothing but, "I'm calling you an ambulance and you'll feel all better once they help you."

Some may say I am naive for believing there is a chance Paige will survive this. I say I'm blinded by love.

It doesn't make sense that Paige is dying. There is something in my brain that is forcing me to believe otherwise and because of that I called her an ambulance. I got her to the hospital. And all because I love her and whole heartedly believe that there is some way she will make it out of this alive.

When the ambulance got to our hotel, Paige was so weak and pale that she couldn't make it two steps without falling to the ground and gasping for air.

I thought about calling the paramedics to come up to our room and get her, but that would've taken too much time and my brain was running on a full fledged panic.

In a second I was racing for the elevator with my girl in my arms, not wasting a second before we finally made it into the ambulance.

I watched as they secured her on the bed and ran tests on her. I watched and silently prayed as she started wheezing and having an asthma attack. All I could do was watch and stand back as I was instructed.

I hated not being able to help my girl. I hate that she's going through so much pain. I hate that it's her and not me. I hate that she didn't tell me what was going on a long time ago.

It wasn't long until we got to the emergency room and the doctors and nurses hurriedly wheeled Paige into a room, as I was told to wait outside.

I felt miserable sitting outside the room as more doctors went in and out, all of them with worried expressions on their faces making me feel sick to my stomach.

All I could think about is how selfish I am for smoking the amount of cigarettes that I have, all while Paige is going through something like this. Flashes of what happened this morning ran on replay through my mind, unable to shake the feeling of how scared I am.

I hadn't even realized I was clutching onto the arms of the chair so tightly that my knuckles turned white until I saw my friends rushing through the hospital's entrance. I stood up immediately, relieved to see them but also afraid of having to explain what's going on.