Not Just Acting (Negovanman)

Chapter 42

Just to be safe, I'm giving this a trigger warning. It includes details of death and depression. This chapter can be skipped without any confusion to the continuing storyline.

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I'm at the hospital the very next day. I told Natasha she didn't have to come with me. She fought against it as the sweet girlfriend who likes to brighten up my sadness, but I won in the end. I don't want her to be all depressed with me, whether she's feeling it from seeing me that way or absorbing that emotion in the air of the hospital. She deserves to go to work, have fun, and smile. It's not that I don't, but... I'll be okay. I'll be okay for my mom.

My eyes shoot up immediately as my mom abruptly starts coughing. It's not that her coughing is rare to me now; it's just an instinct. It's an instinct to look up to see my mom coughing into that same Kleenex she has been for the past however long with a pained expression on her face. She's not getting better.

She catches me looking at her and offers a small smile. I begin to smile back  until I see a speck of blood on her lower lip. She must notice where my eye movement has been directed, but she freezes instead of wiping it away. That's why she crumpled up the Kleenex in her hand in a way to hide it previously. Coughing up blood is never a healthy action.

"Mom-"

Suddenly, her eyes roll back and her body begins shaking frantically. Her body is stiff as a board and so is mine for a moment until I snap back into it. I dive forward and rapidly press the button to the small device meant for the doctor's attention that she has had beside her hand since she's been here. Obviously, they won't be here this very second so I put my limited knowledge to use. My heart rate by now is making the pounding in my chest highly distracting. I almost freeze again seeing my mother have a seizure. 

Being stunned momentarily by the fluid coming from her mouth, I shake my head and grab her arm. I try my best to push her to her side, knowing this would lessen the chance of her choking. Shit, or am I supposed to hold her head or jaw to stop her from biting her tongue or breaking something? Not that I wasn't panicking a second ago, but it's at full force now. I begin to hyperventilate and stumble back a few steps. My vision blurs with tears as my useless self trips on a chair leg and falls down. Luckily, that's when a few people rush into the room.

I'm ushered out and basically black out what happens for the next hour because it's so traumatic. They said it was likely it would happen, and I was prepared... but I didn't know it would feel like this or that I would even see it firsthand. God, everything feels so numb. Well, my eyes and throat don't feel numb because I've been crying non-stop. They're more sore, raw. I don't even feel the arm belonging to Natasha around my shoulders, rubbing slow circles that are somehow meant to soothe me, or my dad's hand in mine. I feel so broken.

"Uh, you should go home and rest," my dad tells me, his voice hoarse. "I'll get everything sorted out here."

I shake my head, not feeling well enough to open my mouth and speak literal words.

He looks at Natasha for reasoning instead, as I must be impossible.

"Come on," she says softly in my ear. She tries to lead me down the hall but I resist, causing her to stop.

I look back at my dad. Through my tearful eyes, I see his. I think it hurts just as bad seeing my dad cry. I watch him give me a small wave, signaling me to go. I finally give in, letting Natasha be my guide until we're outside. I don't think I've looked up from my own feet once since I've started walking. My eyelids feel like they're weighed down and any other direction than my eyes casting down would be too much effort.