My Step-dads Son

Chapter Seventeen

Four months had past since Sam had fell into his comma. I had only left his side once a day for a minute or two, to use the hospital rooms toilet. I refused to shower or eat a large meal - as they disliked people eating in these kind of rooms - in hopes to be by his side when his eyes flutter open.

It wouldn't be a pleasant sight for him to see when he wakes; my hair was full of knots and looked like a grease ball. I was hunched over in a pair of sweats and an oversized jacket that belonged to Sam - I never bothered to put on the little bit of make-up that made me look alive so I looked an awful lot like a zombie.

"Isabel," Sam's dad whispered against my ear. I was falling asleep against Sam's leg awkwardly.

"What-" I paused. "Oh hi," I muttered in a croaky voice.

"Sweetie, you really need to take a shower and put on some new clothes."

"I can't leave his side," I yanked at my hair in frustration.

"If he makes any sudden movement I will yell for you. I promise."

I looked up at his sorrow-filled eyes and moved towards the bathroom. "Ok, please do." I frowned. I stumbled into the bathroom and blocked the light from my face. There was a window at the top of the toilet that threatened to burn my skin; I hadn't been in daylight for four months and I felt like a vampire as it touched my face.

"I won't be long," I yelled out. I yanked Sam's jacket over my head and pulled off the rest of my unclean clothes. I turned the knob to the shower and stepped under the lukewarm water, releasing my tension. I ran my hands through my knotted hair, rubbing the 2-in-1 product in it as harshly as I could. After washing it out and letting it run freely, I shaved and climbed back out.

I felt a lot better, that was for sure. I dried my hair as quickly as possible and freshened up. Sam's dad had gathered me some clothes - a pair of light blue jeans, a flowery white top, with Sam's Football Jumper. I smiled at Sam's jumper and pulled it over my head, wrapping myself in his usual scent and wrapping it around myself- it was three times my size and came down to my knee's, but I loved how calming it made me feel.

"Isabel," My mother gasped in shock.

"What?" I groaned.

"Your clothes are so big on you," She shook her head. "Your jeans are falling down and Sam's jumper wasn't that big three months ago. You need to eat!"

I sighed heavily. I agreed to a shower, eating wasn't an option. My tummy rejected the substances and I couldn't help but stop; every time I attempted to eat, I'd throw it back up. "No mum, I want to be beside Sam. I already showered and changed, please leave me alone."

Her eyes filled with hurt, but I ignored it. After two months, I told her about Sam. I let her know that I was in love with him, and he was in love with me - she didn't take it well at first; she flipped out and had to be dragged out of the hospital room. But lately, she had warmed up to the idea.

"Miss Green," Doctor Jones approached. "Could I have a word."

I tucked my hands in Sam's jumper and stumbled forward - my balance had minimized since I had stopped eating. "What is it?" I whispered.

"We would like you to see a professional."

I stared up at him in shock. Why did I need to see someone? "Why?"

"Because we've examined you over Sam, and we've had two professionals already see you, we've confirmed that you are depressed, Isabel." He placed his hand on my shoulder. "This has hit you hard, and you need to see someone before it gets worse."