Knock Him Off His Feet

37. We Will Always Heal

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound of a heart monitor plays on repeat, resonating inside my head like an alarm. It wakes me up from a sleep. A sleep so deep it feels like death.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The slightest muscle movement makes me feel like I'm trying to move a 1000 lbs weight, tearing the ligaments in my arm and legs.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I must be on my death bed; eyes feel swollen and my cheeks feel hollow. I can't move one of my arms, though I can feel something plugged into it. A drip tube, no doubt.

It even hurts to breathe. Sharp pains attack my chest with every breath I take.

I can slightly open my eyes. Only slightly. And although my vision is blurry, I spot the overwhelming shadow of a figure hovering over me, tears staining their cheeks like trails of pitch black ink.

"Baby, my baby! My sweet, sweet baby..." My mother coos me, crouching on the floor with her knees pressed to the ground. I can barely feel her hands wrapped around mine, but her touch is as cold as stone.

I spot my dad behind my mom, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his eyes in relief. Perhaps those are tears sliding down his cheek bones, resting in the crevices of his skin, collecting in the bags beneath his eyes like puddles.

Salt water blurs my own vision, glazing my eyes over like clear nail polish.

"Hey Mom," I murmur groggily, as if I hadn't spoken in ages. "Dad."

"Delta?" Jack mumbles, peaking out from behind my father, not totally sure what had happened to the big sister he knew. "What happened?"

I try and answer, but my mom beats me to it. "She's not doing too well, Sweetheart."

"What happened to her?" Jack wraps his small fingers around my mother's. He's scared.

My mother just gives Jack a soft grin and kisses him on the forehead; a silent gesture that tells him everything will be okay.

My dad clears his throat. I've worried him to death. From finding out I lied to them about my job, to getting hit by a car, and now this.

I nearly jump when someone from the other side of the bed locks me in an embrace, shifting all their weight to the side making sure not to crush my weakened frame.

It can barely move, and I want to cry at the slightest flinch.

"Arden?" A voice that sounds nothing like mine escapes my lips, and I feel her brown head of hair nod in the crook of my neck.

"You're so fucking stupid, D," she whispers, as quiet as the breeze. "Don't ever scare me like that again, okay?"

There are people behind her: Alyssa and Megan, even Samuel holding Megan's hand while she gently tugs him forward.

I'm glad, glad that they'd already worked things out.

When I lay my eyes on Megan's, dark orbs that hold the magnitude of a black hole, the first thing I feel is regret. I've distanced myself from her without even knowing it, and now that I see her here standing next to Alyssa beside my hospital bed, I wonder why she even came.

The feeling of salt water staining my cheeks makes the walls I've built around me fall, crumbling to dust. I let everyone see me sob, the sharp intakes of breath making my heart ache and my lungs sting.