Chapter 18 - Is She...

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**August 12th**

"What happened," I whimper, pulling my prosthetic on, faster than I ever thought I could. "Why are we taking her to the hospital?"

"I'll explain on the way, Allan just called an ambulance and they should be here any minute."

"Goddammit Eliza," I growl, shoving her out of my way and walking into the main room. I look around before I hear an awful retching sound from the bathroom. I hurry through the living room and see the door to the bathroom open, Allan standing in the doorway, a hand cupped over his mouth. I hurry over towards the door, but he holds me back with a tight grip on my shoulder. He shakes his head and pushes me back into the living room. I wrestle past him and see Rebecca bent over the toilet.

She looks up at me in between the horrible retches and I notice there's a small stream of blood tracing the corners of her mouth and chin. She was shaking and suddenly I hear the front door open. I press a hand to my mouth and back out of the bathroom, tears finding their way down my face. The EMT's rush past me and help get Becca into the truck. She couldn't even stand when they tried to retrieve her, it's like she was just dead weight. Allan pulls me toward him and presses my face into his chest. He moves his hand in small circles on my back as I drench his shirt in tears. I feel him gently kiss the top of my head as he runs his other hand through my messy hair.

Soon I hear the sirens on the truck fire up as they rush out of the driveway and down the road, toward the hospital. I pull away from Allan, a bit numbly, and look around. I take a step towards the door, but lose my balance and hit the ground. I reach out to grab my cane when I realize it wasn't there. "Jessie," Allan says calmly. "Want me to go get your cane? You left it in your room." I nod and he shuffles off toward my room. Eliza helps me to my feet and looks me over. How could I have made it out here without my cane? I can't walk worth shit without it- it doesn't matter, I have to get to Rebecca...

"It'll be alright Jessamine," she whispers. "Allan will get your cane and we'll get to the hospital." I wipe my eyes with my palm and turn towards the door. Allan emerges from the hall with my cane in hand. I slip it onto my upper arm and grip it tightly as I hurry out the door. Allan helps me into the backseat with him and Eliza climbs into the driver's seat of the old Jeep. "My God Allan," she says. "Don't you ever clean this thing?" She starts the car and drives out into the road, off towards the hospital. Allan wraps an arm around me and pulls my head to his chest.

My breathing was completely wracked and the only thing I could hear anymore was the steady beat of Allan's heart. How could he be so calm at a time like this? What am I thinking, he's been through it a thousand times before because of me. Me and my idiotic selfishness... That's all I am, a selfish idiot who doesn't care about what happens to anybody around me... All I've ever done is hurt people... I pull myself from Allan's tight embrace and scoot towards the door, squishing myself against it, trying to keep myself from being close to anybody else.

He reaches out to me but I push his hand away, looking down at my legs. I've only ever caused people pain. My best friend has seen me almost die more than once, but as soon as something happens to Becca I can't even deal with it. He has always been so calm, has he just gotten used to people dying or almost dying around him? Is it my fault? I'm pulled from my thoughts as I hear Eliza's door click open. I almost fall out of my door as I scramble out, wanting to get inside as fast as possible.

I break out into a half run half shuffle as I try to get inside. Becca is in there and she could be in bad condition, I have to get in there. "Jessamine Taylors," I hear Allan yell. He is soon by my side hurrying to keep up with my pace, although it isn't a struggle because his legs reach halfway up my stomach. Soon enough Eliza meets us at the door. I freeze and grab onto Allan for support as I almost go down again.

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