When I Met You

Chapter 18 - Nick's POV

School was miserable. I couldn't focus, eat, breathe, or sleep. Anxiety ate up my insides as the professor rambled on about some stupid shit I didn't care about. I mean, I probably should care, but I couldn't bring myself to listen. Unlike my usual self, I was doing the bare minimum to stay afloat. My grades casually dropped to a low B average, instead of the normal A's on my report card. Even my friends started to drift further away, but that was the least of my concern. Of course, they would check in every so often.

Three weeks ago, I devoted myself to helping Chelsea recover from her heartache, but all that quickly dissipated into nothingness. Of course, I felt terrible because I'm not a despicable monster. He was a human-being, afterall. However, part of me wondered if this was as orchestrated as every other scheme to keep Chelsea on a fucking leash, constantly reminding her that she was his property. Which I didn't want to believe, but he treated her as such. No matter how poorly he treated her, she would always run back to him with open arms.

I knew for a fact she was still popping by every once and a while, because she left traces of her scent and scattered clothing on her floor. I only had three whole days with her, before she informed me of the accident. I swear she spent every waking second in that hospital. It consumed her every thought and breath. She had such a kind heart, because I would never forgive that bastard for all the pain he caused.

After a week, I assumed she'd be ready to go back to school and quit wasting her time on a man who didn't give two shits about her well-being. She was killing herself. I called her work and even popped by a few times to see if she had shown up there. Chelsea had seemingly stopped showing up for her shifts.

I tried my best to bring her the work she missed in class, but that was difficult, because I didn't know all of her schedule. Leaving the papers on her bed every night, for a week. They stacked up, untouched like the comforter smoothly splayed across the bed. I worried for her sanity, because she couldn't be eating properly or sleeping well in a plastic upholstered chair. I texted her a few times, but much to my dismay, no reply. I left her notes in her room, letting know where I'd be that day and the time she should expect me to return, but those too remained untouched like the pile of homework on her bed.

The next week at school, I tried yet again to retrieve her missing assignments. However, they regretfully informed me that Chelsea was no longer enrolled.

Thankfully, today was a Friday and as soon as this lecture was over I could head home. Hopefully, I could get some shut eye. Mainly though, I hoped my continuous presence would allow me to catch her sneaking in. We needed to have a chat, because I wasn't going to let her throw her life away for some douchebag.

However, Friday lingered into Saturday and soon enough Sunday. It was Sunday evening when I next saw Chelsea. A pale-faced, lifeless Chelsea with bags that stretched to the top of her cheek bone stumbled into the apartment. I had never been more grateful to see someone in my entire life. I wanted to pull her small body into a long embrace, but I refrained. "Uh hey, Chelsea. Are you okay?"

She closed the door behind her. Numb and expressionless she replied. "He's awake."

I scanned her face for any sort of emotion, but I think she was too physically exhausted to display any. "That's good. Isn't it?"

She shrugged, inching closer to me. As the light shifted, I was able to take in the untold truth. She was seriously sick, her skin paler than usual.

"When's the last time you ate?"

Another shrug.

"Chelsea?" Collapsing, she fell into my arms. It didn't take long at all for me to call an ambulance. It's going to be okay, Chelsea. It has to be. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. "Come on, Chels. Stay with me, please." I begged.

Seven dreary hours had passed and Chelsea was no closer to waking up than I was to leaving. I cursed an oath that he'd never lay another finger on her as long as I'm alive. Nurses came and went, murmuring words that I could quite make out. Several tubes chained her frozen body to the hospital bed, feeding her vital nutrients she denied her body of the past few weeks.

The hospital aroma smelt all too familiar, reminding me of certain death. However, a sliver of hope inside my bones trusted them to save her. Afterall, I was here for Chelsea, only it didn't feel like it because my mother was right in front of me.

We did that many times before, so it wasn't anything new. Sleeping in the lobby on cheap flimsy chairs, rolling tears like a neverending tsunami, watching the nurses coax my mother to swallow her medication, munching on rather stale unflavored hospital crackers, breathing in foul hospital fumes, playing hours of card games to entertain her, talking about hope like death wasn't already at its cusp, believing some miracle could save her, singing karaoke with my sister just to put a smile on her face, and hoping that maybe tomorrow will be the day she gets better became our new normal. While most kids my age played video games or binged their favorite tv shows, I was soaking up every last second with my mother. Minor complications would cause monthly hospitalizations and I grew accustomed to the lifestyle. As long as it meant she would be okay, I was happy. I tried to shed my tears in silence, conserving the love and laughter for her. However, that particular day was different.

I had been entertaining my sister while my dad spoke privately with my mother. It seemed like hours of agony awaiting his return. Not because I didn't enjoy quality time with my sibling, but something felt off.

Finally, footsteps faltered in front of my frail figure, and I knew immediately it was my father. He explained that my mother wanted a minute alone with me.

"Nick, come here." I heard as I silently shut the door behind me. All of my worries and doubts subsided momentarily when she smiled at my presence.

"Mom. How are you feeling today?" I paced over to the bedside chair, taking a seat.

"Oh, you know the usual." Exhaling a sigh, she turned her head to face the window. She claimed that even the slightest bit of sunshine made a bad situation seem bearable.

"Hmm... What did dad have to say?" I inquired subtly.

"Oh, just the normal things your father says. He remained quite calm and didn't stress too much. Although, I can tell this was going to be the hardest part for him. For... all of you." My heart sank. How the fuck was she going to casually talk about her dying like it wouldn't drastically alter our lives? I mean, we all knew she was going to die, but it felt too soon. I wasn't ready.

"Mom." My voice cracked, holding back unwanted tears. I wasn't going to allow her to remember me crying. "I'm not ready." 60 beats per minute. The heart monitor slowed down immensely, causing a concealed panic within me. Not today, please. I need you.

"I know, son. But I'm far too exhausted to carry on anymore. I can't keep fighting the inevitable. It only causes me pain." She reached out for my hand, now facing me. "I will always love you, Nick. Don't forget that." No. No. No. 30 beats per minute. You can't die! Not yet, I'm not ready.

"I love you too, mom. It's going to be okay." Fuck. 20 beats per minute. The nurses should be here by now! "Please, mom. Just stay with me a little while longer." I begged. The tears swelling in my eyes, ready to burst any second now.

"Take care of your sister, Nick." Her eyes struggled to stay open and her grip loosened on my hand. 10 beats per minute. Her life was being sucked away and there was nothing I could do about it. 5 beats per minute.

"I will. I promise." 4 beats per minute. "I love you, mama." I couldn't hold back the tears as her hand fell to her side. 2 beats per minute. Her beautiful brown eyes said their last goodbye as they closed themselves for eternity. The flatline of her heart rate solidified her fate in an annoying alert, whilst ripping my own heart out of my chest. Pain. Nothing describes the feeling of losing your mom right before your eyes.

I'm sure I was a hot mess when everyone walked in. Snot stains on my sleeves and uncontrollable droplets falling from my cheeks. I tried to pull it together, but seeing my father sobbing made me lose it even more.