To Let Go

Seven

It's 2:07 am.

I wound up here, in his arms. Him and me. Skin and bones. Flesh and muscle. The Cancer patient and the Anorexic. The dying teens. Not sick by choice, but together by free will. The real us. The broken ones. It's scary; we bring out the real people. Not the ones hidden behind masks. But the real ones.

He's resting against a pillow, and I lay next to him, my head on his chest. His arms encircle me, and my body. He's drifted in and out of sleep, peacefully. And I've been awake the whole night. I haven't slept a wink. My mind keeps thinking of possible ways that this will fail. But I have to reassure myself, and eventually I coax myself out of the argument.

I adjust the feeding tube that's glued to my face, and lay my head back down. I feel like I'm about to fall asleep when I feel him sit up, so I do too. I'm a bit foggy from falling asleep a bit. I yawn, and he smiles, as he is awake fully.

"Morning." He says, and I smile back.

"Hey, um, thank you."

"For what?"

"For staying."

"That's what friends are for."

It's 6:30 when Leo shows up.

He comes in on his crutches, hobbling over to the edge of my bed. I move over a little and he sits down. It's a long moment before either of us say a word or even make eye contact. My "dinner" is in the middle of running it's five gallon bag into the internal nose of death. I pride and poke at my stomach, and eventually Leo gets a bit annoyed so he ends up holding both my hands to a) warm them up and b) to keep me from hurting myself further.

"I don't know what to do now." I say after a while.

"Well, if you're tired, you can lay down, and I'll go away this time so you can sleep."

"Sounds fine." I say, and lay down. He picks his crutches up and hobbles out. He mutters something that I can't make out. Leo turns the lights off and gives me a smile. It's a genuine one, and I truly believe that i might be okay.

I wake up at One in the morning in cold sweat. Tears roll down my face. I sniff, and roll over to an empty space. This bed feels so cold now. There is no comfort, no peace. I am terrified of the murder from my dream. That murder, was someone I know, yet I do not.. I begin to cry harder. Someone kill me now so there is no more suffering. I need to be dead.

I change into yoga pants and a sports bra I keep hidden under my sink and exercise. I do hundreds of sit ups, squats, and pushups. Running up and down the stairwells. After about two hours, I retreat back to my room. I am greeted by a very concerned Leo on my bed. For some reason, I try to suck in my stomach. Force of nature, I guess.

"Emma, come here please," I walk over, and he pats the bed space next to him. I shiver so hard I'm sure I can't talk now. "Look, I care about you. But you can't keep exercising. That's why Nurse Jackson talked to the doctors, and you're going to be monitored." I start crying, and shiver harder. "I'm sorry, but I love you. And I don't want you to die." I nod really fast and he pulls me into his arms. His fingers touch my bare back, and I burry myself in him.

"I'm sorry..." I say, and my tears fade away.

"Don't apologize." He tells me, and moves his hand along my spine until it finds a place to rest on the small of my back. I look up at him, and suddenly, maybe it was hormones, maybe it was lack of energy and sleep, but I lean in until our lips met, and then it goes uphill from there. I grab to the front of his tee shirt to steady myself, and his hands rest on my arms. It's a moment in which we are so desperate for contact.

After a few moments we break apart. I look at him, and him at me. I feel dizzy, yet standing on solid ground. Probably hormones. I don't know and I don't care.

I smile, and for the first time, I think it's real.