catch 22 :: m.clifford

eight

 On April 24th, a Saturday, Michael sat on the other side of the bed, and held her left hand instead of her right hand. The nurses had informed him that nothing went wrong and there had been no scares whatsoever in the last week that he'd been gone.

"I really hate school now." Michael shook his head, "I mean, I guess I thought it was okay before, but now you're always on my mind. I can't seem to ever find peace, and I just need to know you're okay." Michael closed his eyes briefly, trying not to cry, "I just need to know that we'll be okay."

If September was with him, maybe she'd respond with a reassuring sentence or phrase. Maybe if September was awake, she'd just smile and nod with a yes. Maybe if September could hear him, she would know that he still cares, and maybe she'd open her eyes. Maybe if September wasn't in a coma and just sleeping off the pain, she'd be ready to wake up. Maybe.

"I didn't go to school on Thursday." Michael spoke in a scratchy aura.

It was Sunday, May 2nd, and nothing had seemed to make an improvement in September's condition. So far, he'd been totally and completely honoring the promise that he'd made to her step-brother. In the back of his mind, a small voice found it to be so much effort. Why couldn't Calum have made the point that it be every other weekend? Now Michael just felt selfish. Of course Michael cared for September and thought about her all the time, but he didn't understand why it had to be the way it was. And why he was taking orders from her step-brother for God's sake.

"I didn't want to go without one of your good morning calls that you used to do." At the end of that note, his voice broke off, and he let a dry sob escape his mouth. Despite his previous complaints, there was no place he'd rather be. "Everything just seems pointless without you."

On the third weekend since Calum had seemingly forced Michael into visiting September, he was sleeping in his dorm. It wasn't until Sunday morning when he was out to lunch with Luke after the gym that Hemmings had mentioned September, and Michael had gone white as a sheet. It took him the rest of Sunday night to accept the fact that he'd forgotten about her, and that there was no way he'd be able to reach her in time to attend school the next day.So unfortunately he was torn between missing even more school, or missing September. He chose school over his best friend although hesitant to do so. And it was another week before he went to the hospital.

"Sep, I've got so much to tell y--" Michael's voice died down as he saw the familiar room that September had been staying in was empty. The white walls were no longer behind any "Get Well Soon!" balloons, and the bouquet of roses in the windowsill were shriveled and dried up.

"Excuse me," Michael reached the reception desk, a hint of panic in his green eyes, "Could you tell me where September Rivera got moved to?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry." The nurse at the desk who had searched for her file read the contents, and an apologetic look washed over her features, "Ms. Rivera passed away last Sunday morning.... I'm very sorry for your loss."

Michael didn't bother replying as he left the building, tears cascading down his face. It must be a joke. He couldn't fathom that his September was really gone without even a chance to say goodbye.

-

there's one more chapter left in this book :( i'm sad. thank u all for reading/commenting/voting so far. i really appreciate it u have no idea!! also, we hit 1k reads!!!! whoo!!!!

i hope u guys had a good new year's! 2015 was complete shit so i just hope 2016 can be all i hope it will be.

dedicated to wendy!!!! i dunno if she's read my book so far but i love her a lot :) if u guys haven't read her stuff u should definitely go do so!