I Need You, Gus [ON HOLD]

Chapter 5

I try not to make my labored breathing obvious as Mom and I trudge through Kohls, my feet aching from hours of wandering through various stores in the mall. She's asked me multiple times if I want to rest, but every time I decline. I can handle this. I don't need to put a damper on what Mom believes to be the highlight of my week. Well, honestly, it probably is, but that's besides the point.After checking out our things, Mom takes hold of the bags, and turns to me. "Ready to get something to eat, dear?" she asks.

"Yeah, sounds good." I nod, silently thanking a higher power.I walk a couple paces behind my mother, pulling Phillip along behind me. I try to ignore the sympathetic stares of bystanders, hating the feeling of eyes boring into my back, my tubes, me. Just because I'm sick, doesn't mean I'm blind.After a moment of decision-making, we decide on Burger King, me getting a fry and a cherry ice, Mom getting a burger meal. We sit at the table that is in the furthest back, against the window. I feel safer from people's stares here, but I don't voice that aspect.Mom unwraps her burger, occasionally shooting me glances when she thinks I'm not looking, her eyebrows furrowing together in worry. 

 For some reason, I find myself resisting the urge to cry. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be looked at in this way. I suddenly can't stand all the stares, although I've been getting them for the majority of my life. Suddenly, it makes me want to tear my hair out. I want to lay in my bed, and cry until there is not a drop of moisture left in my body. 

I want Augustus. 

I want his laugh. 

His smile. 

His lips pressed against my own. 

I want to watch him limp down the corridors of the church. 

I want to watch him play that video game with Isaac. 

I want him. 

 He's all I can think about. 

Augustus. 

 He gave me everything I could have ever wanted, ever needed, in life. And he is gone, and took everything with him. And what's it even worth?Everything. It's worth everything.As much as I hate this empty feeling inside of me, the grief gnawing away at my heart, I wouldn't give up a second of my time spent with Augustus Waters. 

"Hazel." Mom's eyes cloud over with worry, indicating that she had said my name multiple times before I returned back to planet earth."Hmm?" I ask, not wanting to risk using actual words out of fear that my voice will crack at my sudden wave of emotion."Are you alright?" she asks, although I'm sure she knows the answer."Not really." There's no use beating around the bush."Honey..." she begins. Whenever a mother starts out a sentence with honey, it's your first clue that this is a conversation you'd rather pass. "If I could help, I would," she says, and the sincerity on her voice physically pains me, because there is in fact nothing she can do. 

Augustus is gone. Not on vacation. Gone. No longer in existence. 

It isn't as if she can drag him back by the ear. 

"I know." my voice is thick. 

"Is there anything I can do, to help, in any way?" she is pleading now, desperately clinging to the pieces of her daughter that are falling off me, broken shards onto the ground. 

"I don't know." 

"If there's anything you need, want, anything, you can tell me." 

"I know." 

"I love you." 

"I love you too." 

 My dreams that night are plagued with Augustus.........

I am running through the scenery of Isaac's game, burning buildings all around me, the sky a smoke-filled gray, making my already struggling lungs suffocate. How unfortunate that even in my dreams I am so screwed when it comes to physical activity.Augustus is running ahead of me, limping all the way, every so often calling my name over his shoulder. "Come on, Hazel Grace! There are children in need!" a small smile tugs at the edges of his lips, and he continues running, pushing faster and faster, leaving me behind, heaving each breath into my body as if it's my last. I need to catch up to him. Not just for the children, but for me. I need to catch up to him, see him, hug him..........

Just as I reach him, I wake up. 

 Sweat drips down the side of my face, as if I had actually been running. I use my sheet to rub my face, sitting up. Sunlight streams through the cracks in my blinds. The multi-colored clock on my dresser reads nine thirty, so I figure I may as well get up.After preparing myself for the day and walking-more like stumbling- down the stairs, I run a distressed hand through my hair, leaning in the threshold of my kitchen doorway, unsure of what to make of the sight I have the misfortune of seeing is sitting at my kitchen table.

 A man, who has a smile plastered onto his face stares into my eyes, almost as if he is searching for my soul. He has a little briefcase leaned up against the leg of the table, and is wearing clothes that are too casual for a formal event, but too formal to be casual.Only one explanation is plausible- he's a therapist. 

I fight the growing urge to smack my head against the wall behind my head.This is not what I want to start out my day doing.Really, a therapist wouldn't be all bad, if I thought there was at least half a chance of hope that he could help. However, this is not the case.My family fails to understand that I am not sad to the point of being repaired. I am not a broken cell phone that you can just send into the store and get fixed, or soak in rice to relieve its damage. 

"Good morning, Hazel," the man smiles a bit too warmly at me. I shoot mom a pleading glance. However, she just gives me an apologetic look, that when you think about it should not be apologetic. She's the one who did this, therefore, she is not sorry. 

"Hi." I say, crossing my arms across my chest, not leaving my perch in the doorway. 

"My name is Dave Berkfield." he begins, then stops, looking at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to introduce myself. As if he doesn't already know my name. I blink once at him slowly, then stare at my mother.She must see how uncomfortable I am, because she starts speaking. 

"Hazel, Mr. Berkfield is here to help. I know this might be strange, but I promise, it's not as bad as you're thinking it is." 

I am shaking my head before she is even finished explaining. "I do not need a therapist, or counselor, or whatever Dave Berkfield is." my tone is a bit more venomous then what I planned, but I continue anyway. "He can't help me." 

"I understand why you're so upset-" Mr. Berkfield starts. 

"No, you don't. There is nothing you can do, unless you can bring Gus back!" my voice cracks as a single tear streams down the side of my cheek. Angry at my mother, angry at the world, but most of all angry with myself for acting so childish, I run up the stairs as fast as my body will allow, and collapse onto my pillow, and let the tears overwhelm me. 

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Well, well, well..... Firstly.... A MASSIVE, HUGE SORRY from my side to all my readers! I know I haven't updated since months, and you people have all the right to be angry, but please, just, give me a reason to explain.....

I've just completed my school (hurray!), and I was damn busy, searching for universities( life matters a lot to me, now).Plus, it was vacation time, and I was out with family, and came back home just a few days ago. And.... There was a family issue, concerning someone very close, so I got stuck in that too...... I'm still stuck in it, actually, but I thought to put this up for you people! I'd prepared this draft, ages ago, bit couldn't edit it. Squeezed out a little time today, to post it! 

I seriously dunno how it was, but I promise.... The next update will be sooner, and better! 

Please read, vote/ comment if you liked the chapter, even if it was like.... 0.00001%! 

Promise to make the next one, bigger, fatter, better and sooner! 

Till then, bubyeeeee, my lovely readers! 

Gemma ❤️