Hannah's POV
I reached for him, but he was gone.
They were all gone.
Every single one of them.
Hospitals aren't that bad, honestly, that is until you are alone.
Until you are left to your thoughts.
My mistakes, which were never going to be unmade, I had accepted that long ago, weighed down on my shoulders.
Part of me knew that today would be my last but the other part of me said no because I was too much of a mess to have Ashton remember me like that.
To have Luke remember me like that.
I just fucked all of it up.
When the doctors called for my name, I didn't put up a fight.
I turned to Ashton, pecking his lips.
"See you soon." He had whispered to me.
But his eyes yelled something else.
They screamed, 'we both know, but I can't just let you go like this. I love you, and I'm not letting you slip between my fingers. You better come back, Hannah Emma Hemmings.'
I only shot him a faint smile, watching his heart shatter through his eyes as my own shattered through my chest.
I wasn't oblivious, my doctors were prepping me for death. We all knew my chances were slim considering how fast my condition had progressed while we waited for my surgery date.
I laughed, for the last time.
At all of it.
It was almost too pathetic to fathom.
A few months ago, I was fine, mild anxiety attacks.
I practically lived by the motto, "what you don't know can't hurt you."
I still do, actually.
Because it didn't hurt me.
It killed me.
Murdered, butchered, slaughtered; whatever term floats your boat, it all meant the same thing in the end.
I was dead, for good, for real.
A nurse slipped through the door, taking some last minute vitals, surgery was in less than a half hour.
I was cold.
Not physically, mentally.
I was freezing, frozen.
In my own little wonderland because I didn't want the time to pass.
People think that your last hours are sad, maybe adventurous.
They are wrong.
My last hours were devastating, shocking, and they opened my eyes.
I wondered how I was so naive all of my life.
I took everything I had for granted.
I bathed in the thoughts of what could have been, what should have been, what would have been.
The soaked my entire body, taunting me with pain.
I was being moved.
I watched the ceiling tiles moves one after the other above my head.
Every now and then we would pass a scattered light, but it was still dark to me.
We pushed through a double door, where surgeons were washing hands and putting on gloves.
It was grey.
The room.
My life.
The following events passed by in a muffled blur that I didn't really care to pay attention to.
"Are you ready?" A nurse asked.
I hesitantly nodded as they applied the gas mask.
A stray tear fell from my lashes as I closed my eyes for the last time.
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Don't hate me ok. This was originally how I was going to end all of it, but I'm writing another ending of you don't like this one so don't get your panties in a wad
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-Skylar
