Park and Ani

I look like a dying donkey

Books and movies always make it seem as if being unconscious fills you with dread. The emptiness of the never ending darkness is always portrayed as this awful thing to run away from. They all fail to share how freeing that terrifying darkness can be. 

When your unconscious any pain or worry is stripped from you and you're simply just lying in oblivion. I don't know about Hazel Grace but I'd pick serenity over pain any day. The only con is that you're constantly aware of the worry and pain you're causing everyone around you by enjoying the calm of being unaware of anything around you. 

I guess that's my main reason for opening my eyes to the all too familiar lights of the hospital. The room is tinted orange from the setting sun and is surprisingly quiet. Just from the layout of the room I can easily tell that this is my mother's hospital and that she's most likely working her shift with the fear of a unresponsive daughter. 

"You're up." 

Looking to my right I'm shocked to see Parker sitting in the chair beside my bed. 

"W-" A cough interrupts me and I'm all to aware of how dry my throat is. Along with that comes the awareness of the tickling moisture in my nostrils from the oxygen tubes resting on my upper lip and they heaviness of my body from whatever painkiller they gave me. 

Handing me a cup of water, he waits for me to regain my voice choosing not to immediately bombard me with the questions I know he has. 

"Where is everyone?" I croak, voice still raspy from not using it. 

"Well Liza's parents wanted her back home to watch her siblings. Blake and Ryder went to go pick up food. Your mom is doing her rounds so that she can sneak back in here as soon as possible. And Wes is beating himself up for having to be at practice instead of being here."

"How come you're not busy? What about swim or Keilani?" He simply stares at me head slightly cocked. 

"Did you really think I'd make it two steps out of here not knowing if you were okay?" 

"Parker you didn't need to stay here. Don't stall your life for something like this." 

Scoffing he turns to the window purposely avoiding looking at me. "You act like aneurysms are something that can't potentially kill you." 

I guess with how frequent this happens it's easy for me to forget how lucky I am to still be around. It's unsettling how numb I am to it. 

"But it's not something you should have to deal with." 

"And you should?" 

I pause. 

It's not that he's wrong, but if I had to choose that either I have aneurysms or any of my friends have to deal with them, I'd sacrifice myself in a heartbeat. 

"So when did they start?" 

"End of eighth grade. Hit my head to hard one day and had a major bleed. Since then it's never really fixed itself." I laugh but even I can hear how dead it sounded. 

"Did you hit your head or did someone else hit it?" 

My body runs cold and the heart monitor jumps. He can't know can he? 

"What are you implying?" 

"I'm just asking." 

He's clearly trying to piece together some theory he's already concocted, but the fact that he already suspects that someone else 'hit' my head has me on guard. 

"You know what forget I asked. You just woke up after almost three days and you don't need heavy questions."

"It's been three days?!" Throwing my hands into my hair I internally groan at the classwork and test I've already missed.