See the Stars with You | ✓

SIX | May 20th, 2015

SIX

May 20th, 2015

I insisted that Pa left, regardless of his objections. He really needs to learn to take care of himself, if his grubby attire and unkempt mane are any indication.

He declares that he'll be coming to visit every day, which I can't say I mind. The contours incised onto his forehead and his sunken eyes worry me, though, so I insist that he stays home. He grudgingly agrees after a long argument, still acting like I'm a bomb about to detonate.

When he leaves, I let out a breath—I love my dad, but he seems to be navigating his way through a path of eggshells, now. I don't know how to tell him that I'm done, all out of ammunition.

The crazy boy still hasn't come to take his rightful place at Olivia's Chair, so I assume that he's had it, completely given up on me.

His absence has given me a lot of time to reflect over the mess I've made. I finally have the peace of mind to think things over, though I wouldn't really prefer it this way, next time. If there's a next time.

I'm glad that I'm safe, though there is the nagging disappointment at the back of my mind. I should work on that.

Lesson Two: Be less impulsive, you Aries freak. You've almost always regretted doing the shit you've done minutes after.

The familiar click of heels alerts me to Olivia's arrival, and my eyes promptly close out of habit.

Such rebels.

"One tray of asphalt coming right up, miss."

My eyes snap open. "Hey," I nod in approval, my voice still a bit too hoarse for my liking, "you're catching on, huh?"

"Still no Doritos."

"Dang it." I accept the tray from her and place it on my lap. I dig the plastic spoon into its depths.

My mind wanders far from the confines of the bleached prison, only to end up with a certain someone.

A certain someone with a letter.

The asphalt shoots out just the way it went in.

Olivia shoots up in alarm, sending the poor chair toppling over behind her, but I pay her no mind. Olivia's Panic of the Day is the least of my concerns.

The letter!

I left him a letter. I hope he hasn't seen it yet— I didn't leave it in a place too obvious. The room spins before me. Suddenly, I'm trapped in the ocean currents again. Only this time, no one's there to save me.

What was wrong with me? Jumping off a cliff, ending up bedridden in a hospital, all for what? For him to end up being warier of me than ever before?

I need to find him before he does anything drastic, the impulsive idiot he is.

Pushing down on the mattress, I try maneuvering myself to get out, disregarding Olivia's second Panic of the Day. This one is slightly more inconvenient than the others, because it involves her shoving me back and threatening to call the doctor. Or the police, judging by her tone.

Let them come! I'll show them.

The room is a carousel spinning out of control. My violent jolts send pain shooting up my torso and legs. I yell, clutching my head to stop the spinning. My bare foot skids on the polished white tiles, and I scramble grab onto my bed. Something in my chest seizes with the motion, making me gasp for air.

He's going to flip out when he sees the note, I can't do this to him. Olivia gives up, calling for backup.

The Boy! I could ask him to look for the note back and burn it or something. I find myself frantically describing his features to the new nurse, who just shrugs sympathetically. She keeps telling me to breathe, calm down, and that everything will be alright, but she knows nothing. Why is she so calm? How can she be so calm? I certainly cannot be calm right now. Everything will not be alright. Not when it comes to me and him, two irrational, idiotic individuals.

This is all my fault—what was I thinking?

Deep down, I know exactly what was going through my mind.

I was too caught up being myself, too selfish to go over the consequences, to remember the people I'd scar, how my ghost would live on to haunt them forever. Then, I'd thought they deserved it.

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The now-skeletal hands that cradle my face reach up to pull at my hair in frustration, which doesn't calm me down. Instead, it just aggravates me further.

Where is that idiot of a boy when you need him? Of course, he had to annoy me to the point of considering strangling him, but disappear off the face of earth when I needed him.

I'm conscious of how unreasonable and egotistic I sound, but hey, what I feel is beyond my control. I need someone to pin the blame on, and he's standing right at the center of my dartboard. No one asked him to stand there.

But what's the point? No one can aid me in my battle this time. I stand alone in my own arena, fighting a lost cause. My time is almost up. Trying to end it sooner was just trying to rush through the pain.

My fate was pre-decided by another, saying that I had six months left. Now I catch myself reaching for the copious sands in the bottom half of the clock, trying to retrieve what I've thrown away.

Hours later, when the chaos has settled, I hear footsteps growing louder with each step, unaccompanied by the familiar click.

"Missed me?" the boy smirks, but falters upon meeting my cold glare.

"Where were you?" The effect of my furious snap is slightly dimmed by godforsaken throat, which absolutely refuses to heal anytime soon.

"Where was I? Good question! Well, you see, I've got a life to live, and—" he stops the moment he registers the hurt painted loud and clear on my face, my cards laid out face up on the table. And it's too late to grab them back, now that he's swiped them far out of my reach.

Lesson Three: Refer to Lesson Two.

Of course, I'm not the only one in his life, the sole reason he wakes up each day, determined to convince me to live, his one and only motive in life, to keep my heart beating. I can't beg for his presence every time I need it.

"No, wait, I'm sorry. That came out all wrong, I—"

"Leave." Would you look at that, I often have contradicting thoughts! "Leave," I repeat, when he makes no indication of doing so. "Leave, please. Just go! Why aren't you leaving? Leave me alone."

"Wait, look—"

"Why did you decide to come back, huh? Wanted to see how your little patient was doing? Well, she was doing just fine without you."

I can't find the button I use to call Olivia, and calling out for her is pointless, there's no way she'll hear me. "Where is that bloody button when you need it?"

"Would you just listen?"

"No, you listen," I say stubbornly, though I have nothing to say.

"Please, I—" he begins, but Olivia asks him to come back when I'm in a better state.

I almost forgot my place, right there. I'm still a patient.

My vision blurs again, when I see someone rush into my room out of the corner of my eye.

My breath hitches as I take in his horrific appearance. Ignoring his heaving chest and his forehead, damp with exertion, my gaze falls directly on the scrunched-up piece of paper fisted in his hand.

"Luca?"