Fix You (Sequel to The Arts)

Chapter 26

There was a quiet beep. Almost muted before my ears could come into tune with the environment around me. It hung in the air every few moments before silencing.

I open my eyes slightly, a bright white light deeming into my vision.

I shut them.

"Mila?" a soft voice whispers. Delicate as if fearing any louder volume would break me. Cut through me like glass. I've been there plenty of times. I would know.

"Walz," she says again, this time nudging me gently on my upper arm.

I groan, tilting my head to the side to shove it into a nearby pillow. 

She only pushes me again and I reluctantly open my eyes, slowly. Adjusting to the light, I find myself laying flat on my back, staring up at the blur of a ceiling.

"Here," she says, placing my glasses on my face.

Turning, I see Dinah by my side, her hands folded on my bed while she lay her head lazily among them.

I smile at the sight. She looks like a little puppy with the way her head falls to the side. It reminds me of the way Zayn stared in class.

My smile falls.

I feel my hand clench the sheets beneath me.

"What's wrong?" she sits up quickly, trying to stay calm.

No one else was in here. Just her and I.

I hear the beeping noises coming from the machine pick up the pace. Beeping more frequently. Both of us look to it and then to each other.

Frantically, Dinah jabs the button on the side of the bed and the top of it begins to rise.

She gets me to sit up once she stops it, grabbing a cup of water from the bedside. Bringing it to my lips, she keeps my head steady with a hand behind it.

"Okay, Mila," she says, setting the cup aside. She sits up more, moving both her hands to either side of me. She rubs my arms up and down.

I shake my head. The thought of going through all this again just makes me grow angry with myself. I force my head down and look into my lap and my heart rate continues to rise.

"Mila, look at me," she brings my head up and holds my hands. "It's me!" she squeals, her voice going all high as she smiles when my eyes meet hers. I involuntarily laugh at her doing. "C'mon loser. Breathe with me. We can practice our breath control. We sure as hell know I need to. Having asthma is a pain in the ass when trying to sing," she mumbles, trying to distract me from the situation. I admire her for that.

She counts down from three and we both take in a deep breath for eight seconds, holding it for four, and exhaling for seven. Our normal routine.

Eventually, my mind begins to sooth. My heart rate slows down. Just then, a man in a white coat walks in holding a clipboard. Behind him was Jasmine with her purse hung over her shoulder. Somehow her presence made me feel more at ease.

"Ah, Camilla. You're up," he points to me proudly.

Frustrated, I just let my head fall back into the pillow and blow out a breath, staring at the ceiling.

Dinah snorts, attempting to hide her laugh. "It's Camila, sir."

"Oh, sorry," he approaches as Jasmine pulls up a chair beside me. "And you are?"

"Dinah," she answers.

"Are you family?"

Before Dinah can answer, Jasmine butts it. "She can stay."