Please Understand

Chapter 20: Hope

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Cold.

Beep.

"What do you mean you're sending him home?" my mother shouted, her screech echoing off the walls.

The beeps were getting faster, louder.

A man cleared his throat. "Yes, Mason is very lucky. He doesn't have a concussion. This episode was most likely caused by a panic attack. All he needs is a little bit of therapy, so he can control these attacks," he soothingly explained.

The bed was hard, and goosebumps raised up on my arms, but my eyes refused to open. I needed to see what was going on, but my body wouldn't allow me.

"I can't believe this. I can't believe you are going to force him to go home!" she exclaimed, louder this time, or maybe closer. Her voice was shrill and full of anger.

"Mrs. Maxwell, please lower your voice. There are other patients here," he murmured, and then his soft footsteps padded down the hallway.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A sob escaped Mom's lips, which I'm positive were smothered with red lipstick. Her cries were muffled as someone hushed her. "As soon as Mason wakes up, we'll tell him about Amelia, okay? Everything is going to be okay," my dad whispered.

At the mention of her name, I opened my eyes to see a small room, and a door wide open. My parents stood outside of the white walls in the dimly lit hallway. Dad held Mom tightly in his arms, and she cried into his chest. I was hooked up to a machine, listening to my accelerated heart rate. The last thing I remembered was being sacked at the football game, but the rest was a blur. How long had I been in here? I wanted to ask my parents what was going on, but the words wouldn't come out.

Then, Dad glanced over at me, and pushed Mom away, like he didn't want me to see their weakness. "Mason is awake, we need to tell him," he whispered, but I could still hear his voice ringing in my ears.

She wiped away her tears, trying to be brave like Amelia. When they walked in, she put a smile on her face, and clasped her hands together, and then rubbed them against her jeans. "Hey, honey, how are you feeling?" she whispered as she grabbed my hand once she reached my bed. She was warm, burning my frozen skin.

I flexed my fingers, but I couldn't squeeze her hand. "What happened to Amelia?" I croaked, watching my parents' reactions. I couldn't focus on either of them.

Dad crossed his arms over his chest, and plopped down on the chair next to the bed. Then, he looked expectantly at my mother because we all knew he wouldn't give me the news. "Mason, I think we should talk about what happened to you before we talk about Amelia," he gruffly stated when she didn't speak up.

She squeezed my hand tighter, crushed my bones, and tried to smile. "The doctor said you had a panic attack during your game last night. You were throwing up, and passed out. You hit your head pretty hard, but luckily you don't have a concussion. Everything is okay now, and we're going to take you home," she explained as she rubbed my hand gently. There were streaks through her makeup from her tears. "I think we should head home, and then we can talk about all of this later."

I glanced between them, and shook my head. "No, I want to know now," I insisted as tears stung my eyes. My body was exhausted, and I couldn't control anything, not that I could've controlled it before. I'm always weak when it comes to Amelia.

She continued to squeeze my hand, and cast her eyes down. Her breathing was heavier than normal, and when she finally looked at me, I knew she was breaking inside. "Mason, this is hard for me to say," she sniffled, and I watched as tears pooled in her eyes. "The detectives...they...they found a body. They're still running some tests, but they found Amelia's wallet."

The tears streamed down my cheeks, and the heart monitor sounded like it would explode. My heart shattered into a million shards, impaling my lungs and making it impossible to breathe. "They couldn't tell that it was her?" I sobbed, my free hand was balled into a fist at my side. I dug my fingernails into the palm of my hand.

Tears streamed down her face, her mascara running with them. "Her hair is the same, long and brown, but...but...her face," she sobbed and knelt down, putting her forehead against my arm. "That monster! The guy who took her...he...he..." Her sobs wracked her body, and my strong mother finally lost all control.

Dad stood up, and took over with a stone cold expression, but he refused to comfort either of us. "He burned her fingertips and her face, so she's unrecognizable. They are running DNA tests, but it seems pretty likely that it's Amelia," he flatly stated, but I knew he was trying to be strong for all of us.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The room was spinning around me.

"Mason? Baby, please," Mom whispered as she stood back up. She pushed my sweaty hair back out of my face. "Please, stay awake."

Her face was far away, but I felt her right there. One of her tears landed on my arm.

"Go get the doctor!" she shouted as she started sobbing louder. "Mason, baby, please." She was pleading, but she was starting to go out of focus as my eyes continued to water.

"Mom," I murmured, and I finally squeezed her hand as I tried to hold onto this nightmare. I couldn't slip away again. "She can't be gone."

She squeezed back, and kept stroking my hair. "Mason, it's going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay, just stay awake. Please, talk to me. How are you feeling?" she rambled with a frantic smile.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyelids were heavy, but I kept them open, focusing on her red lipstick instead of her smeared mascara. For once, Mom was the only thing that was helping me. "I feel dizzy. I can't handle this anymore. I need to know if she's alive or not," I murmured as I finally stopped crying, but my voice cracked. "I don't want that girl to be her."

"I don't either." She shook her head. "I will tell you when I know. We are going to go home, and then you'll feel better, okay? I'm just going to get the doctor to let us out of here." She started wiping my tears away, making me feel like a child, but I appreciated her kindness.

"Is this a bad time?" a small voice asked from the doorway. "The nurse said Mason was doing better."

Mom whipped her head towards the strawberry blonde in the inappropriately short skirt who strode in the room with her clicking heels. "Yes, this is a bad time," she professionally stated as she cleared her throat and leaned away from me. She wiped away her tears. "Who are you?"

She smiled brightly as she pushed a few of her curls back out of her face. "My name is Carlie, and you must be Mason's mom. I can't believe he hasn't told you about me," she introduced herself with a small giggle. "I've been worried sick about you." At first, she grimaced when she saw the sweat dripping from my face, but she forced herself to smile. "You don't look so well."

Didn't she say something similar to me in class when I was near tears? "Carlie," I mumbled, wishing more words would tumble out of my mouth, like get out, leave me alone, or never speak to me again.

"I can't believe this happened to you. Do they know what happened?" she asked as she stared at my mother.

"Just a panic attack. We are actually leaving soon, so it might be best if you leave. Thank you for checking on Mason. I'm sure he'll appreciate it once he's feeling better," she dismissively answered, but she kept a smile on her face. "I'll walk you out."

Carlie looked stunned that someone would talk to her that way, but she quickly recovered with a smile. "Oh, alright. Mason, I'll come over later," she insisted with a grin, and a small wave. Then, she followed Mom to the door.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I let my heavy eyelids close, as I listened to the beating of my broken heart.

But I wasn't completely broken.

There was still hope.

Hope.