Velocity-> Jack Gilinsky

Chapter 5

(A/N) Double update this weekend? WHHAAAAATTTT:) This took me 2 hours, but ily guys.

*Olivia's Pov*

"Ugh, mom, I'm exhausted..." I sigh, throwing my tennis shoes onto the floor in the kitchen. We had just arrived from the stadium, and my mom didn't hesitate to drown me with questions about "the handsome boy at the game". I was starting to get annoyed; there was absolutely nothing going on between us.

"I bet, honey. Why don't you go shower and then sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day with more practice coming up," she responds, giving me a hug before shooing me upstairs.

I trudge into the bathroom, sliding off my uniform along with my undergarments. I turn the shower handle to almost scorching hot, but that's the way I loved it. The steam soon began to fill the room, and right as I began to step into the shower, I heard a scream come from downstairs. I immediately jumped out, threw on the clothes I was previously wearing, and ran to my parents' room.

"Olivia! Your dad is unconscious! Hurry, PLEASE! Call an ambulance!" I knew. I knew exactly what was going on. I took the house phone off the charger and dialed 9-1-1. An operator's voice was soon on the other line, and I gave her all the information needed.

Shortly after, an ambulance arrived. The paramedics brought my dad's unconscious body onto the stretcher as I watched in horror, the blood slowly dripping down his temples. My mother and I followed behind the ambulance in her car, and there was no conversation being made. The only thing to be heard was her sniffles and quiet cries. I soon began to feel pressure build up in the bottom of my eyes, before letting the tears free-fall down my cheeks. I was a mess. We were a mess. My family was a mess, to say the least. I could never experience a week, or a month, without something disappointing or disheartening happening. I was tired of my dad's constant episodes; they only brought us back to where we started. He was diagnosed with clinical depression a year ago, and ever since then, we've all been a little more sad. My dad was exactly like me; we both gave up if something didn't go the way it was meant to. But with everything set aside, he was an extremely goodhearted person.

"The Kade family?" A young, female doctor called, stepping into the center of the waiting room. My mom looked at me, nervousness in her eyes, before getting out of her seat. I hesitantly followed her, afraid of what my dad was going through right now. The doctor greeted us before showing the way to my dad's room. He was laying there, with his hands folded over his stomach, staring at the ceiling. The sight made me extremely sad; I felt bad for him having to be trapped by his illness.

"Hi daddy," I ran over to him, engulfing him in a tight hug. He flinched a little, before relaxing his tensed muscles. I looked at his knuckles; they were bandaged tightly. I began to cry, to uncontrollably cry. It felt good to just let everything go that's been building up inside of me. I wasn't one to show my vulnerable side to others, but I couldn't help it in this current situation.

"You need to stop this. You need to take your medicine and keep up with the programs. We- me and mom- can't keep g-going through this anymore. It takes a toll on us, too." He didn't say anything. He was at a loss for words. Instead, he cradled my body next to him, rubbing my upper back while I soaked his shirt with my tears.

After a few moments, when my breathing was back to normal, my parents began talking about things that needed to change at home. Like spending a certain amount of time together everyday, or having game night on Fridays- just anything to get my dad more involved and less hidden in his bedroom.

"Tell me the last time you took your medication," I said, impatiently waiting for his response. I raised an eyebrow and he sighed before giving me his answer.

"A... month ago..." He knew I was disappointed, but how was I supposed to react? My mom let out a gasp, bringing her hand to her face. I spoke up again.

"You absolutely have to stay consistent with it. Do you not understand that you're not getting any better?! You've made no progress, dad! It's been 12 months, I'm tired of seeing you so unhappy! I bet mom is too, right mom?" I harshly and loudly say, unable to control myself. I turn to look at my mom, and she's in shock.

"Olivia Marie! Don't yell at him, he's already going through enough. You-"

"Hilary, honey, I deserve it. It's alright, let her speak," my dad finally said.

"I need to use the restroom." I didn't know how to continue. My family was falling apart.

After walking through several, desolate hallways and turning many corners, I reached the bathrooms. I stepped into the "family" restroom and hurriedly closed the door shut. I didn't really have to go; I just needed some time out of that room full of negativity. I took a look in the mirror, rubbing the bags under my eyes. I looked lifeless; dull. I was still wearing the glitter and makeup from the football game, but it didn't look as good now. I felt the pressure build up inside my eyes for the second time today, and I let everything out. My lungs heaved in and out unsteadily, hoping no one could hear my sobs from outside. I proceeded to cry until my phone buzzed from the text I received from my mom asking me to return to the room because we were leaving. I grabbed some tissue and rubbed under and around my puffy eyes, took a deep breath, and pretended as if nothing was wrong. Like always.