Wonderland

❄B63❄ My Top Moment

Chapter Sixty-Three

Brayden's POV

My Top Moment

December 17

I slept on the chair beside Heather's bed last night, my hand still holding onto hers. My eyes felt swollen. I wonder why none of the nurses kicked me out of her room, seeing as how I wasn't technically supposed to be in here between 6pm to 8am.

My stomach grumbled, but I didn't leave Heather to grab breakfast. What if Mr. Forde came here while I was gone and pulled the plug? I couldn't allow that to happen. I won't allow that to happen.

I lightly stroked the back of her hand, pretending she wasn't in a coma. I pretended we were back in her room, snuggled under her covers, on that morning before she went missing. Me with my arms around her, her with her back pressed against mine. Her with her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling as she breathed. Me holding her hand and burying my face into her hair. Her holding my hand.

I closed my eyes and played that scene in my head, so much that for a second I thought I was in that moment. But then I heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and then footsteps, and I opened my eyes to find Mr. Forde with a doctor.

"Hi," Mr. Forde said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

I didn't greet him back. I gave him the most hateful look I could muster.

The doctor sensed some tension between Mr. Forde and I. He looked uncomfortable. "Should I give you a min—" he started, but Mr. Forde cut him off.

"No," Mr. Forde said, immediately.

"No?" I said, rising up from my seat. My back ached, but I ignored it.

"There is nothing to talk about." He looked anywhere but at me.

I straightened my back so that I towered over him. Mr. Forde wasn't as tall as I was. "I do, though."

"I'll give you two a minute," the doctor said. "I'll be back, Chase. But please think about it. I don't want you to regret it."

I scoffed. "Trust me, he's not going to regret it."

Mr. Forde's face turned red. "You have no idea what we're talking about."

"Are you sure? Because I think I do. You want to end Heather's life. I know you do!"

Mr. Forde looked away from me, and that's when I knew I was right. He was going to pull the plug.

"Her health's deteriorating," he said, his eyes trained on the ground.

"It's been less than a week," I argued.

"Doesn't matter. Even if she were to survive this, she'd suffer."

"You're right. She'd suffer because she'd have to live with you. You're a bully, Mr. Forde. No wait, you're worse than a bully, because what bully would bully his or her own daughter?"

"Have you no thoughts for her?!" Mr. Forde burst, finally raising his eyes to look at me. "She doesn't want to be alive. There's a reason why she's lying on that hospital bed right now, motionless, with suicide letters written for all of us! She doesn't intend to live; she doesn't intend to wake up. Now picture her actually waking up but losing all of her memories. She won't recognize anyone. She won't remember anyone. She won't remember anything. Her life will be a void. She won't be able to live life like others. Her life's ruined already!"