The Girl with the Mismatched Converse

Broken

I wake up, my surroundings bright and clean, something unlike the room I'd been staying in. My breathing speeds up, becoming more shallow as I hyperventilate. Hands press into mine, making my eyes snap to the person responsible. The sudden movement causes a wave of nausea and something escapes my throat. 

"That's nasty, Laura," I hear, the voice faint and muffled. 

I smile when my vision clears up and I see Christian. "Hey," I attempt to say. Only croaks come out and laughs echo around my room. "Don't laugh," I mutter, the wheeze reaching his ears. 

"You're awake," he says. "That's great."

I hear a door open and footsteps. "Laura, I'm Dr. Sanchez. It's good to see you awake and responding to...nausea," she says, smiling less when she sees my vomit. "Do...do you remember what happened?"

I shake my head slowly, trying to recall the events which preceded my hospital stay. "No, I don't remember anything."

Dr. Sanchez nods her head, writing something on a clipboard. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"Being woken up from a nap, then walking into the bathroom to clean up. After that, everything is fuzzy and unclear."

She nods her head again. "We're going to run a few tests, but I think you're going to be just fine." She turns to Christian. "Feel free to tell her what happened. It's all up to you."

Dr. Sanchez leaves and Christian sits on my bed, holding my hand once again. "Do you want to know what happened?" He asks after a few moments of silence.

I trace circles on his hand with my thumb. "I know what happened."

"What?"

I meet his eyes. "I know what happened. I took a bath and tried to drown myself. It's not something I'm proud of, but I know I need help." I look back at our intertwined hands. "For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone what I was going through, so I showed you I needed help. That I need help."

Christian stays quiet, his thumb circling my palm. "I, uh, I'll go tell the doctor."

I nod, setting my head into the pillows. "Hey, Christian?" I ask just before he closes the door.

"Yeah?"

"I can't."

His head tilts. "You can't what?"

Tears begin streaming down my cheeks. "I can't. I'm broken. I can't be fixed, but I need help. Those doctors can't help me; I've known that ever since my parents brought me to the first doctor. I have a tumor. In my brain. It's an incurable cancer and I've had it since my parents left me." 

My voice cracks, sending me doubled over and wracked with sobs. "I'm broken!" I yell, bringing doctors into my room. "I have cancer and none of you can fix me. I'm a walking dead man."

Dr. Sanchez blinks at me, not knowing what to do in my grief. "Laura, Laura," she repeats, trying to calm me down. "You're hyperventilating."

Voices start to fade away and my vision blackens. 

:::~:::~:::

A/N: 

Well, it's been a long while and this is a short chapter. I've been working more on one of my other books, but I'll try to keep this one going. I love this one and can't wait to finish it (Don't worry, not yet) and move on to the next one. 

As always, don't be a silent reader; let me know what you think!