Young Love Lost

Chapter One

I struggled to get up as I had been taught a million times before. Today was the day I was getting out of the hospital. Today, I would go home to my Beatles records and sit in my bedroom alone; with no one to go to the fields with. There would be no one to hold my hand when I got a horrid shot at the doctors. No one had held my hand when they stuck needles at me in the hospital. And if someone had, in that time of distress, I hadn’t noticed. I was still screaming for them to pay attention to Calvin. For them to see he was dying. I wasn’t going to accept the word dead anytime soon.

Tomorrow, I would go to Calvin’s funeral while his mother would squeeze my shoulders empathetically. My second mother, Maria, Calvin’s mom, was just the person to not cry at her son’s funeral. A strong willed woman, she had been a single mother since Calvin was born, along with my mother. Except my mother was still falling apart at the seams, and Calvin’s had held strong for him.

My feet landed on the cold tiles silently. The doctors were watching carefully as I had picked up my things and stumbled. I couldn’t even lift my book bag. I tried lifting my stuffed animal, Poachie the chick, and did it with great ease. The doctors could see my struggle as I tried to lift my book bag again.

They all told me stop at once, as to not strain my back. Yeah, that was the least of my problems: straining my back. I had poison running through my veins, and they were worried about that.

 I let out a frustrated sigh and sat back down. No more track, soccer, volleyball in the summer. Oh, the summer how it had excited me so much. Calvin had made plans to go to Virginia to celebrate my birthday. My birthday is September first but we always celebrated it in summer rather than wait. In the summer I would tie my hair back and laugh wildly, not caring if I looked like a donkey. My black hair would whip in the wind and he would play with it. Then he’d tell me my eyes were the same colour as his and how we were meant to be because of our strange eye colour.

“Don’t strain your back sweetheart,” my mother cooed at me affectionately, snapping me from my daydream.

She had no idea what it was like.

“I just want to go home,” I mumbled silently.

But just as soon as the words got out of my mouth a man barged through the door.

“Is she ready?” he grumbled.

He had a nice jaw line as I watched him slowly. His hair was in messy short black curls that went on forever. He was scruffy, and young. I noticed the detective badge on his coat and sighed. No, this was not happening to me. No way was I getting grilled under a hot light, in the hot seat about my boyfriend and best friend. Good luck, buddy. My mom wouldn’t dare let you touch me. I glared at him ferociously.

He raised a curious eyebrow at my mother for my expression. She glanced at me and gave me an exasperated sigh.

“Oh don’t be a child Jillian. He won’t ask you any personal questions you don’t want to answer. But this needs to be worked out. It’s for the victims too,” she said quietly at the last part.

I flashed back to the picture of dead Robbie Henson, the future prom king and shuddered. I saw his date, Lila Pole covered in blood next. My face turned pale instantly. Yeah, for the victims.

Now the detective shooed everyone away as my mother stared at me innocently leaving, like she hadn’t just thrown me to the lions with a piece of raw meat on my back.

The officer tapped my hospital bed to signal me to sit down. I shook my head stubbornly. No way was I ever going to touch another hospital bed, never mind the one I had slept for three weeks in.

He raised his eyebrows at my stubbornness and sighed like my mother had.

“So? You want to take this to a place you’re more comfortable?” he asked politely.