Fearlessly {Ariana Grande}

20// Lightning

A lot of people claim honesty is the best policy. I had my doubts.

Some people can't handle the truth and sometimes a comforting lie is the safe path to choose for the time being. The truth is too difficult to absorb. It's not a quick killer. Not a gunshot to the head or anything painless. It works it's way up to their brain and eats them alive, overtaking any positive thought. Honesty in my eyes, is a homicidal splur of words. Not a policy.

     I sat in the felted waiting room chair with my eyes fixed blankly on the wall directly in front of me. My mother was close by, most likely at a vending machine scavenging for something to eat.

   If there was a time to be crying, it was right now.

But I wasn't.

The pain had worked and evenly distributed itself across my body and numbed me quicker than any anesthetic. I am slowly preparing myself to hear the news no one ever wants to hear.

That she's dead.

Or she's in a coma that evidentially, she'll never wake up from.

I'm not even all here. My hunger whittled away by fear and I've been bullied out of sleep by anxiety.
I know. I know I can't handle the truth so trying to prepare for it is useless. That's why when my eye catches the white of the lab coat, my heart thumps out of my ribs. The doctor parts his lips to speak and I feel the blood pulsing through my ears.

This is it. The man standing in front of me is about the deliver the news that will either flood me with relief or send me crashing down. Maybe it's stupid. Maybe I fell too hard too fast for her. Maybe if I hadn't, I wouldn't be in the hospital right now. She wouldn't be in the hospital.

   I bit down hard on my bottom lip as anticipation overtook me and I waited impatiently for the news.

"You can see her now. Follow me and the nurse will inform you of her current condition."

The words burn into me like fire. I'm overcome with relief because she's alive, they can confirm that. However my heart refuses to slow down as I can't help but question her condition. The walk back to her room seems to take hours. I hear the blood pumping through my ears, my face hot with frustration.

And then I see her.

Maybe there's something different about people when they're sleeping. They always seem to look a lot more peaceful then when they are awake. Perhaps it's because they don't have a care in the world. Nothing can phase them, and because maybe, dreams are far better then reality. That's exactly how Quinn looked. Her hospital gown was drooping slightly over where her scar was. It was stitched but jagged and surely a scar that would that would never fully heal. Her dark brown hair was tucked messily behind her ears and her face clean of previously dried blood.

I'm about to dive my hand into her hair when I realize she has another injury. I examine it carefully. It's hard to find under all her hair but obvious once exposed. She looks beautiful. And I know now is not the time to mention something like that, but everything about her. Every detail, every missed feature, everything seems perfect.

My stare is broken when I notice the nurse walk into the room.

"Hello." Her words are too calm for the time being.

"Is she okay?" I don't bother to greet her back. All I want is to know how she is or what I can do to help.

"Right now, she's unconscious and we are unaware of how long she will be. Her larger scar, on her body, was an easy fix but should be checked on regularly to prevent infection," A pause. "The cut on her head." She falls silent unable to articulate her words. "That's what we're scared of."