Childbirth, how distinctively primal and slightly privet it is—yet your friends are jammed in the waiting room chairs, balloons tied to the chairs arms, perhaps one or two of them clutching assorted gifts (potted plants or tickets to a boxing match) (Jeff was hoping they'd return the gift of tickets to him and he'd be able to go) (he was correct in assuming so) in their hands, all awaiting the joyful news. For everything always works out, right?
If this were a children's book full of bright pictures, everything would indeed work out—you and I might even hug from the terrific delight that oozed from the pages.
But this is the real world, where things usually don't.
And by usually, I mean always.
Asia Mills gave birth at seven fifteen that evening to a little girl—Calum named her Daisy—who was quickly carted away by the bossy nurses, leaving Asia to ponder what had just happened. She had officially left her own childhood behind, the hopes and dreams that once filled her thoughts were replaced by her child, she was a mother. A wordless smile twisted across her chapped lips, the sounds of the Hospital fading around her—this had all been worth it.
At ten thirty seven Daises heart came to a stop, the multiple machines her tiny body was hooked up to all letting out a collective beep, echoing around the exam room. Doctors swished about in a hurry, Nurses were injecting medicine into her lifeless veins and Asia and Calum watched behind a glass, their breaths minimal.
At ten thirty nine they pronounced Daisy dead—her short life officially coming to an end, leaving Asia to press her hands against the glass and let out a shattering sob; of course Calum hugged her from behind mumbling reassuring things like "it's not your fault" and "she's in a better place."
"She NOT in a better place—" Asia hissed, her hands clenching into fits as she banged against the thing glass that separated them from their child "—She belongs w-with me. She belongs with us."
The shabby nursery Calum and her had prepared in her living room would go untouched, the heaps of baby clothes Mindy had questionably obtained would be returned to wherever she had found them, Mali would eventually leave, they all would eventually leave.
And Asia would be left alone.
She slid out of his grip and crumpled to the floor, Daisy was gone.
She felt herself be hoisted up into the wheelchair she had clambered out of moments before in worry, a faint hope echoing through her small frame that maybe, just maybe their child would be alright—she sat as lifeless as her child now.
"Asia it's not your fault." Mindy chocked out as they exited the room—her friend's hands finding her own and squeezing them softly, "I'm not going to let you blame this on yourself, alright?" she was crying; but she had Jeff's strong arms around her—he was there for her, Asia managed to nod ever so slightly in response.
Their friendship burned brightly in the hospital hallway, perhaps that's what we all need every once and a while—a friend. Everyone's too wrapped up in retrieving the perfect love story, that you miss the beautiful love of friendship that's right in front of your eyes—for you always need someone to say "Yes, you DO look fat in that" or "no I certainly DID not see you kill that man".
Of course, it was no ones fault. It wasn't Asia's, or Calum's or Mindy's - it wasn't Luke's fault, it wasn't Michael's fault or Ashton's. It wasn't Mali's fault, or even Jeff's fault. But each felt this burden as their own - because that's what you do when someone you love dies. You sit in the darkness and you wonder what you could've done to stop it; you tear yourself apart, hoping to find a way to blame yourself, when there really is no one to blame.
three days later
"I don't want to go."
There was a pause on the other side of the door, followed by more scratching—Mike was doing his best to pick the lock that had been tightly wound shut hours before, Asia heard his labored breaths as he continuously forced the handle.
"You have to."
Pressing her back against the hard wood of the doorframe, Asia glared out the bathroom window that overlooked the courtyard below, it was raining. Buckets of water gushed from the sky followed by the occasional prickle of lightning—she let out a simple groan as she felt tears build up in her eyes.
"I—uh, I can come back later if you're doing....privet things." Mike practically shouted though the door, misunderstanding the groan entirely. He was more than slightly impressed that she was finding time to be....alone with herself in such trying times.
"Oh my God, what the hell?" Asia yelped—her cheeks inflaming at the comment, causing her to wish she could disappear even more, this certainly hadn't been her day; or year for that matter. "I'm not—you knowing, I'm angrily groaning because my child is being buried today." Asia had once had dignity, but she had that no more.
Mike readjusted himself on the other side of the door and sighed—this was a terrible situation, they were leaving for tour soon (how Cal was managing to keep himself together, he wasn't sure. Asia had locked herself in the bathroom for three hours, Calum had eaten half of the tea-party-food they were serving at the wake) and he was worried about Asia—she was barely surviving as it was now.
The clatter of the tree branches against the window startled Asia from pacing across the sticky bathroom floors of the funeral home, stirring desperation in her stomach as she glanced at her watch—she'd have to leave soon, it was evident. She pressed her forehead against the chilled glass of the window and groaned again—this time much softer so that Mike didn't accuse her of pleasuring herself in the toilet.
"Mike—"she snapped, turning away from the window and cutting off his blabbering about God knows what "—tell Cal I'm sorry."
"You can tell him yourself, if you just come out." Michael groaned, but he was met with silence in response. And no matter how much he pounded on the door for her to answer him, or flung his body against the wood—he was met with chilling silence. Finally Calum slowly climbed up the stairs, a sour look on his handsome face.
"W-we need to get out there."
"She's not responding mate," Mike mumbled—worry clear in his eyes "we need to get in there."
After thirteen minutes of combined effort (Ashton and Luke quickly joined them) they broke through the old bathroom door—the lock popping off the hinges—Calum sweeping the small room with his eyes, looking for Asia.
But all the found was the bathroom window hanging ajar—the wind spilling in through the gaping hole, and Asia?
Asia was gone.
--
dedicated to dandeluke who is leGiT THE SWEETEST PERSON I LOVE U BABY 2 THA MOON && BACK!!!!!! go read her stories, she is amazing :-)
hOW MUCH DO U HATE ME
I HATE ME A LOT
i rlly expected myself to cry more writing this, but i only teared up a little bit--bUT IM GONNA CRY SO MUCH MORE NEXT CHAPTER BC LIKE ITS THE LAST CHAPTER
but i think im gonna put one in between
so like we have yEt again, two chapters left/?????idk
um so yeah, comment what you think..,and i'm sorry :-(
with all my love,
wendy
