A Million Trillion Billion (What's Eating Gilbert Grape Fanfic) *ORIGINAL*

Chapter 20 - The Diagnosis

Arnie trails a foot behind me, gripping onto my hand. I remember walking down these halls with Gilbert, and having the same feeling as I am now. My hands are sweaty and I feel as if a tiger is clawing through my stomach, ripping out the insides, choosing which ones to devour first. I close my eyes as we get to the desired location, wiping my hand on my jeans before turning the doorknob.
"Miss Parker?" A familiar, tired voice says. "Hi there." I smile, stepping in the doorway. Greg turns around, tilting his head to the side. "Is that Arnold behind you?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. I look behind me. Arnie is hiding behind the door, his hand still visible. "It's alright darlin', Dr. Stevens is very nice." I say to him.
He nods unsurely, stepping out into Greg's field of vision.
"I believe we've met once before, but other than that, your brother has taken your place." Greg smiles kindly.
"Take a seat, if you wish." He continues, picking up a white mug from his desk and moving it to the coffee table, surrounded by the chairs that bring memories I'm not fond of.
Arnie sits in the chair right beside me, and never lets go of my left hand in doing so. Greg sits opposite us, clasping his hands together. "How have you been, Arnie?" He asks, his eyes darting between the both of us. "I've been good thank you." Arnie replies politely. Greg chuckles lightly. "That's good to hear Arnie, but I was referring to your mental state." He says.
"I don't know." Arnie mumbles, shrugging his shoulders. "He's been resting a lot, only getting out of bed to go to the bathroom or to wash. We've all been taking good care of him." I say.
"Excellent. I'm glad." Greg replies.
He frowns, flicking through the papers next to his mug in front of him. "We have developed a new treatment, and we believe it will help Arnie, possibly even slightly change the chemical structure in his brain..." He says, pointing to a diagram on one of the papers. He talks briskly, seemingly avoiding telling us something.
"Greg.." I interrupt him as he blabbers on. He raises his eyebrows, expectantly. "Does Arnie have a diagnosis?" I press. He frowns, searching through his papers.
He looks back up at us, putting the papers back in his lap. I raise my eyebrows, in nervous anticipation.
"Nope, sorry." Greg says abruptly, shrugging his shoulders. "Then what's that there?" Arnie points to the top paper sitting on Greg's left knee. I look closer. The title reads; 'ARNOLD GRAPE DIAGNOSIS'.
Greg sighs heavily. "Good point, son." He says, his voice dragging along the floor in a monotonous tone.
He hands the paper to me, refusing to meet my eyes.
I read it from the first line.....
'Arnold Grape has been through all the tests required, and we have found a diagnosis, but it is not simple. He has multiple conditions, including a life threatening disease that explains the spontaneous collapsing, the exhaustion and the delusional mental state...' I frown, continuing to read.
'It appears that the young boy has an interestingly wired brain, and a disease of which we cannot name, but we are certain of one thing.
We have located a tumour in the left side of the brain, and it has been noted to be spreading. This boy must not be allowed to leave until further notice.
Sincerely,
Dr. Humbleman.'
"Oh my god!" I bust into tears, the sheet dropping to the floor. "Oh my god....." I whisper, covering my mouth, and turning to Arnie, and hugging him close to my chest.
"Why wouldn't you say something?" I say, looking at Greg in utter disgust. "What kind of hospital is this?! How could you not tell us what was wrong with him?!" I say, burying my head into Arnie's neck, sobbing in anger and shock.
"I couldn't bear to tell you." I look back up at him, as he stares at his feet. "You see-"
Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my throat. Gasping for air, I reach for my throat with both hands, struggling to get enough air. Arnie watches in horror, as I stand on my wobbly legs and force myself out the door.
I close it behind me, my heart beating a million miles an hour. I try to take a deep breath, and I close my eyes.
Nothing. I panic even more as I feel my feet give way, becoming numb from the lack of oxygen. I'm kneeling on the ground, staring at my pale wrists, stinging sensations warping throughout my body.
"Help!" I yell in a restricted voice, as I come crashing down to the floor.
Greg's door swings open, and I hear people bolting up the stairs. "I-I can't breathe." I say, using al my energy on the one sentence.
I feel like I'm going to die, as I lay on my back, eyes wide staring, overwhelmed at the amount of people currently surrounding me.
This was supposed to be about Arnie. Not me.

Two hours later, I'm sitting on the brown leather coloured lounge in Arnie's new room.
Arnie is sitting on my left, and we're sharing a giant milkshake and hotdogs. We were allowed to request whatever we wanted for dinner tonight, and of course, hotdogs were included.
It only took half an hour for me to come back to normal after my massive panic attack. The doctor's said it was due to being overwhelmed with stress and shock. Also, they mentioned that I'm prone to anxiety, and that could be a key factor.
All wonderful news right?
Anyway, the main thing is that Arnie is okay. His new room is on the floor of the cafeteria, game room and the main courtyard. He is also allowed visitors at all hours.
I appreciate the treatment he has received, but the thought I'm pushing away in the back of my mind is that there is an obvious reason for that.
Arnie may very well be dying.
But if he is, I guess he's taking me down with him.