[COMPLETE] If i could turn back time

2018

The day Mia woke up was one filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Relief washed over Ava and Lily as her eyes fluttered open, but their joy was short-lived. Mia's first words, a whisper filled with fear and confusion, sent a chill down their spines. "I... I can't see," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

Panic set in quickly. Mia's breaths came in short, rapid gasps, her hands reaching out to touch anything, to feel something familiar. But all she met was the cold, sterile environment of the hospital room. Her world, once filled with vibrant colors and shapes, was now plunged into an abyss of darkness.

The doctors rushed in, their faces grave. They tried to calm her, their soothing words doing little to quell her rising panic. Eventually, they had to administer a sedative, its effects slowly calming Mia's racing heart and frantic mind.

When she woke again, Mia was different. The lively, vibrant girl they knew was replaced by a silent, withdrawn shell. She refused to speak, to eat, to acknowledge anyone. She lay in her hospital bed, her eyes vacant, her body still. It was as if the life had been sucked out of her.

Ava and Lily were at a loss. They tried to reach out to her, to break through the wall she had erected around herself. But their attempts were met with silence. Mia was trapped in her own world of darkness, a world they couldn't penetrate.

A week had passed since Mia woke up, and she remained in her self-imposed isolation. Ava and Lily were at their wits' end, their hearts aching at the sight of their vibrant friend reduced to a silent, withdrawn shell.

One day, Mia finally spoke. Her voice was barely a whisper, her words chilling. "Why can't I just die peacefully?" she asked, her tone devoid of any emotion. "If I'm going to lose my vision, why can't I just... leave?"

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the depth of Mia's despair. Ava and Lily were taken aback, their hearts breaking at the raw pain in Mia's voice. They had no words of comfort, no reassurances that could alleviate her suffering.

They spent the following days trying to reach out to Mia, to remind her of the strength she had within her. They spoke of their shared past, their shared dreams, and their shared love for her. They told her that she was not alone, that they were there for her, no matter what.

"Do you remember the time we got lost during our road trip?" Ava asked one day, her voice choked with emotion. "We were scared and confused, but we made it through. We made it through because we had each other."

But Mia remained silent, her face impassive. Her world had been reduced to darkness, and she couldn't see a way out.

As the days wore on, Mia's silence turned into anger. One day, when Ava and Lily were trying to coax her into eating, she exploded. "You don't understand!" she yelled, her voice filled with frustration and despair. "I don't deserve a good life. I don't deserve you."

Ava and Lily were taken aback, their hearts aching at the raw pain in Mia's voice. "Mia, that's not true," Ava protested, her voice shaking. "You're not a burden. We're here because we love you."

But Mia was relentless. "You need to leave," she insisted, her voice breaking. "You need to take care of your lives without me. I'm just... I'm just a burden."

Her words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the depth of her despair. Ava and Lily were at a loss, their hearts breaking at the sight of their friend's pain.

Mia's outburst left Ava and Lily stunned. They had known she was struggling, but they hadn't realized the depth of her despair. They looked at each other, their eyes filled with pain and uncertainty.

"Mia, you're not a burden," Ava said, her voice firm despite the tears welling in her eyes. "We're here because we love you, because we want to support you."

But Mia shook her head, her face pale and drawn. "You're wrong," she insisted, her voice barely a whisper. "I can't see, I can't do anything. I'm just... I'm just a burden."

Lily reached out, taking Mia's hand in hers. "Mia, we've been friends since middle school. We've been through ups and downs together. This... this is just another hurdle. And we'll get through it, just like we've gotten through everything else."

Mia remained silent, her face impassive. But her grip on Lily's hand tightened, a small sign that she had heard their words.

Mia's grip on Lily's hand tightened, her face still impassive. "But this time is different," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "This time, I'm losing my vision. I can't... I can't ask you to handle that."

Ava shook her head, her eyes filled with determination. "Mia, we're not 'handling' you. We're supporting you, just like you've supported us in the past."

"But you don't understand," Mia insisted, her voice rising in frustration. "I can't see, Ava. I can't see anything. I can't paint, I can't drive, I can't... I can't live like this."

Lily squeezed Mia's hand, her voice filled with conviction. "Mia, your life isn't over just because you've lost your vision. It's different, yes, but it's not over. And we'll be here to help you navigate this new path."

Mia fell silent, her breaths coming in short, shaky gasps. She was scared, lost, and overwhelmed. But Ava and Lily were there, their presence a constant reminder that she wasn't alone.

In the days that followed Mia's outburst, Ava and Lily were a constant presence by her side. They spoke less, their words replaced by their comforting presence. They held her hand, brushed her hair, and helped her navigate her new world of darkness.

One day, Ava brought in a radio. She tuned it to an art podcast that Mia used to love. "I thought... I thought you might find this comforting," she said, her voice filled with hope.

Mia remained silent, her face impassive. But as the familiar voice of the podcast host filled the room, talking about brush strokes and color palettes, a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Lily, on the other hand, took to describing the world outside. She spoke of the sunsets, the bustling city, the changing seasons. "The leaves are starting to change color," she said one day, her voice soft. "It's a mix of red, orange, and gold. It's beautiful, Mia. Just like your paintings."

Mia didn't respond, but her grip on Lily's hand tightened. It was a small sign, a tiny indication that she was still there, still fighting.

As the days turned into weeks, a routine settled in. Ava and Lily continued to be a constant presence by Mia's side, their support unwavering. They filled her days with familiar sounds, comforting touches, and vivid descriptions of the world outside.

One day, the doctor came in with a hopeful smile on his face. "We have some good news," he said, his voice filled with cautious optimism. "There's a chance that Mia's vision might improve. It's not guaranteed, but with therapy and time, we might see some progress."

The news hung in the air, a beacon of hope in the sea of uncertainty. Ava and Lily exchanged a glance, their hearts pounding with cautious optimism. "Did you hear that, Mia?" Ava asked, her voice choked with emotion. "There's hope."

Mia remained silent, her face impassive. But Ava and Lily could see a flicker of something in her eyes - a glimmer of hope, perhaps, or maybe just a reflection of their own.

The news of a possible improvement in Mia's vision was met with silence. Ava and Lily waited, their hearts pounding, for Mia's reaction. But when she finally spoke, her words were devoid of any joy or relief.

"It's not guaranteed," she said, her voice flat. "It's just a chance."

"Mia, a chance is better than nothing," Lily said, her voice filled with quiet determination. "We can work with this. We can..."

But Mia cut her off. "I feel like I've lost my soul, Lily. I don't have any energy to live in this world."

Her words hung heavy in the room, a stark reminder of the depth of her despair. Ava and Lily were at a loss, their hearts breaking at the raw pain in Mia's voice.