I am a black hole for two reasons:
1. Whenever I like someone they run away (long story)
2. I seem to suck people in... A lot.
Anyway,
As I sit in a bed that is in no way uncomfortable... And yet, I could not possibly sleep in, I wait patiently for the next sweep of doctors to come in. I have grown used to the non stop onslaught of medical practitioners and have developed a fantastic allowance of patience. But not today. Today I am feeling good. And I do not want to be waiting... It might go away.
My mum sits next to me. She is an elegant lady, tall, and with fair hair that hangs around her shoulders. Her lips are pursed and her eyes are narrowed towards two doctors standing outside the room. She runs her fingers through her hair and sighs. She does that a lot. She's wearing a blue pinafore that covers her paint covered shirt that lies beneath. She's an artist. She had to give up her old job when I got sick, and I didn't stop her. Ever since dad left every problem has been resting on her. I felt bad but at least she took up art instead. She seems to enjoy it. It keeps her happy...
The doctors whisper with no signs of stopping. The tension is torture, am I worse or not? I sit there in my bed and stare.
" what are you staring at?" Mum asks,
" the doors." I reply,
"How you feeling?"
"Fine,"
"Really?" She questions.
"Fine."
" they'll be in soon I think, we can't wait forever," she states.
"Yes we can. "
"Shut up."
A silence enters the room, a one that often follows a conversation I have with mum. I swallow, have a sip of water, lie down, sit up. Repeat.
The door opens, time for the truth.
YOU ARE READING
Too late
Teen FictionRuth's sick. She has been for a long time. That's not going to change. Mark her best friend, is her support system, always there when things get tough. But then... he's not there anymore, and Ruth wants him back.
