Broken Heart/Broken Mind

-Chapter Fifty-five-

(This chapter is in Keefe's pov of what had happened that morning.)

Keefe's eyes fluttered open when his alarm went off. He cringed from the tightness in his chest when he went to turn it off.

It felt like it knocked the wind out of him. He sat there for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

Except the tightness didn't abate. If anything, it felt like it was slowly getting worse. He leaned his head against the headboard as he panted.

He convinced himself he was fine last night. But now, he wasn't sure.

Keefe pressed a fist against his heart when it felt like it was being squeezed. He rubbed the heel of his palm against his chest, trying to massage away the pain. It wasn't helping. He could feel his heartbeat racing under his skin.

Something wasn't right. He had to admit that to himself now. But at that point, he didn't feel confident in his ability to get out of bed.

His door busted open. His dad glared at him. "Why aren't you out of bed yet? It's seven thirty."

"Dad," he wheezed. "My chest hurts. I think something's wrong."

Keefe's father deadpanned at his son. "Yeah, sure," he snorted. "Get up, I'm not playing this game with you this morning."

Keefe felt the corners of his eyes well up. From the pain or the lack of faith his father had in him, he wasn't sure.

"I'm not playing," he whispered. "It really hurts."

His dad rolled his eyes. Before slamming the door shut, he said, "I'm not doing this. Get up!"

Keefe whimpered. His dad was clearly going to be no help. With a great deal of effort, he managed to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

He gritted his teeth as he managed to get his feet on the ground. If he could just get through the morning and pretend he was going to school, it would be fine. Then, he could drive himself to the hospital and figure out what was wrong.

That plan lasted all about of three seconds. Keefe cried out when he reached his arm out to try and get a clean shirt. It sent pain spiking out from the muscles of his chest to his arm, leaving it sore and tingly when he yanked it back.

The throbbing was making it hard to breathe. Every time he gasped in a breath, it punished the muscles in his chest, feeling like they were spasaming. This left a weird cycle of breath holding and hyperventilating.

Keefe wasn't going to he able to get to the hospital on his own.

He stumbled back. Trying to gain his composure, he slid to the ground and leaned his head against his mattress.

"Dad!" He sobbed when he gained enough energy to do so. "Dad, I need you!"

Tears finally trickled down his face. The pain was starting to spread from his chest to his arms and shoulders. He could even feel it in his jaw. It was starting to make him feel sick to his stomach.

He waited to see if his dad would even come to tell him off for being dramatic. He was desperate to get his attention. But he never came. He must've been using the silent treatment, hoping Keefe would eventually shut up if he ignored him for long enough.

His mom had gone out with her friends that night. It was safe to say she was still black-out wasted at some bar.

Who else could he get to help him. He racked his brain. Ro.

He glanced at his phone on the nightstand. It was still connected to its charger that was dangling down. He stretched his arm out to reach for it. The action made it feel like he was ripping off his arm, but he managed to grab hold.