Silent {g.m}

Chapter 14

   When I wake the next morning, I lay in my bed and stare up at the ceiling. This is it, I tell myself. This is the day I tell Gabe. I just hope he's not to mad I didn't tell him. Slowly, I rise from the bed and place my feet firmly on the ground. My head is spinning along with the room. I try to stand, but only fall back to my bed.

    "It's getting worse," I realize out loud. I need to tell someone, now. I look at the floor in front of me, and jerk when I see two black boots standing in front of the door. Slowly, I raise my eyes and head up the body until I finally meet Gabe's eyes. I start to say something, until I see the hurt in his eyes. Panic and fear washes through me. 

    He knows.

    "Dalton told me last night," he explains, as if he can read my mind. "I can see it's getting worse, too." He gestures to my body, and I frown in confusion. Then, I pull my phone off its charger and look at my face through the black screen. I can't see anything, so I turn it on and flip up the camera. 

    "Oh no," I whisper, staring at myself. The rashes have spread from my arms up my neck and across my cheeks. I lock my phone and look up at Gabe. He looks disappointed, and hurt, and he's not looking at me. "Gabe-"

    "Don't say anything… Let's just get you to a hospital." I can feel the tension in the room, so I nod ever so slightly and stand. I stumble when I walk, so Gabe grabs my shoulders and tosses me some shoes. I slip them on silently, and head downstairs in front of Gabe.

    "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I begin. I look over at him, but he doesn't look back at me. He keeps his eyes on the road, his left hand tightly gripping the steering wheel while his right hand rests in his lap. So, I continue, "I didn't think it would get bad this quick. I thought I could make it home before this happened." I gestured to my face.

   "I looked up what the disease is," he says, "and it explained that the results of having the disease is deafness,–which is how you lost your hearing, I'm going to assume–blindness, or death. Do you even understand how serious this is right now?"

    "Of course I do! I… I didn't want it to ruin probably the only time I have left with you."  He doesn't respond to that. His silence leaves me feeling more guilty than I did when I woke up this morning. I turn my head and lean my forehead against the window so he doesn't see me cry.

---

   Gabe came into my room about an hour later, after I've been hooked up to an IV and they pumped some antibotics through me at least twice. He sat down next to me, but didn't talk to me. He grabbed my hand and played with my fingers, and I watched him, my head turned towards him so my cheek was squished against the pillow.

    I look up at Gabe when I notice he's gesturing with his hands. I'm shocked only for a few seconds that he's talking to me in sign language. He must've been practicing.

    I told your parents about your condition. Your family along with May are boarding a plane right now, they should be here in a few hours, he signs.

     I'm sorry, I repeat for, like, the nineth time today.

   Stop saying that. He still seems mad at me, yet he's holding my hand. I'm feeling mixed emotions right now. I wish he would just tell me how I feel. Or maybe I should go first.

    "Gabe," I say, looking over at him. Even though I can't hear his voice, I still want to do this talking. He looks over at me. "I need to tell you something."