Heartbreak Hypothesis

t w e n t y - s i x

In the twenty six minutes it took to reach the hospital, a thousand and one thoughts flew through my mind. The jarring "what if"s obscuring my thoughts.

I stared straight ahead at the moving traffic before Daniel and I, digging my fingers into the passenger seat. My mother overdosed. She was in danger.

The thing was, ever since she began doing drugs, I never thought she'd get to a point where she'd over do it and put herself at risk. Sure, I knew that doing drugs was a bad thing but a part of me never considered something like this happening.

I was just so pissed at her for acting like I didn't exist that in my anger, I forgot to ask how she was. I watched all her layers fall apart and argued with her at each chance I got but I never thought about what could happen to her.

It was like I'd accepted her addiction as a part of her life so much that I ignored the fact that it could kill her.

I held my breath at that thought. The text had said she'd overdosed, there was no information about her health. For all I knew, she could have been halfway dead. I swallowed and shook my head as Daniel took a sharp curve and tore down the road.

"Nothing will happen to her," he said, licking his lips and grabbing onto the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road.

I watched the side of his face but didn't say anything. After I'd gotten the text from the hospital, I'd told him my mum was admitted but didn't tell him why. It was amazing how he didn't even know my mum or what condition she was in and yet was so keen on her getting better. Guilt twisted in my gut so I looked away.

The second Daniel brought the car to a stop outside the hospital, we fled out of the car and through the double doors of the building.

The man behind the check in desk lifted his head to look at us as we approached him. My heart hammered in my ears even when we came to a stop in front of the desk.

"Hi. How can I help you?" the man—Jeremy, his tag read—asked with a small smile. His eyes has dark circles around them and his brown curly hair was a mess. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, I couldn't tell.

"We're here for Mary Bennett." My voice was chapped, throat thickened by emotion. Please don't let her be dead.

Jeremy's eyebrows shot up as he flipped open a yellow file and took a pen to begin scribbling. "Your name?"

"Noah Bennett. I'm her daughter."

After he was done writing down some things, he looked up and smiled sadly at me. I balled my hands into fists and held my breath. She's dead.

"She's in the ER. She was critical when we found her. We tried reaching you but you sooner..." he must've noticed my sharp intake of air and the step I took backwards, right into Daniel who held on to my shoulders to steady me.

She's dead.

"Oh no no. She's fine. We stabilized her. Her doctors are just rounding up in fact." Jeremy smiled at me. My shoulders sagged as I exhaled. She was fine. For now. "I'll inform the doctor that you're here."

With that, he directed us to the waiting area for the drugs department on the second floor. The brightly lit place had serene light blue walls, plastic potted plants and columns of gray metallic chairs. All the “You too can save a life,” and “Your doctor is your best friend,” posters looked depressing.

I hated hospitals because they were a symbol of death. At least to me. When my dad had been in an accident, they'd given us a hope that he could make it only to rip it right back when they confirmed him dead.