She sat on the old, ripped leather couch, her knees shaking up and down, her hands gripping the material of her jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a tight pony tail, since strands falling in front of her eyes annoyed her too much this morning.
She was intently staring at the coffee table with one broken leg; not totally, but enough to know not to place anything to heavy on the table. There was many scratches on it, many holes and colorful stickers covering them.
The window was wide open and the cold seeped in, her skin coated in goosebumps. Cold. It was really cold. She could see her breath.
The phone next to her rang. She jolted, snapping her head towards it but not having the courage to actually answer it immediately. Her shaky hands travelled to the loud phone, at least to stop the noise. She gripped the handle in her hand and brought it up to her ear, taking slow breaths through her lips.
"Hello?" a voice on the other end of the line sounded.
"Hello?" it repeated. "Is this Eden Eeks?"
"Y-yes," she stuttered, tucking her legs underneath her chin. She was sure that the person could hear her heart beating through the line.
"I've been told to inform you about your grandmother," the woman said. "We're afraid that if you aren't in a position to get the money for the operation soon, we might transfer her to another clinic or, in the worse case, be unable to do anything."
Eden didn't have the strength to answer. Her palms were sweaty, her breathing ragged and throat dry- what she couldn't say for her eyes.
"I-I'll get the money by the dead line," she promised, her eyes shut tightly. She was nodding her head, or was she shaking, but either way she knew she had to find any way to get the money.
"If you say so miss. As for your grandmother... I can't bring you any good news, I'm sorry about that. Your parents haven't tried to contact the hospital at all, though."
"I-I've been telling them everything, don't worry," she lied.
"If you say so miss. I'll keep in touch."
She slammed the phone back down, whimpers leaving her body. She wasn't that strong. She couldn't handle the loss of her grandmother; the woman that she spent the last five years of her life with. The only person that brought light in her life.
At the mention of her parents, her head hurt. She laid on that couch, too lazy to close the window. Too tired to move. She didn't care if she froze. She didn't care for anything. And the cold, it was nothing compared to the destructive storm battling inside her.
She couldn't believe what a turn tings can take with just one stupid decision. And it was all her fault.
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The phone rung for what seemed like the hundredth time, and she finally lifted her head up and reached for it. Bringing it up to her ear, she was silent.
On the other end of the line, a soft melody played. She knew she never heard it before, but it did touch her in a way that made her shaking stop and the cold not affect her as much.
She wiped her damp cheeks, listening. It was rhythmic, like a heart beat. It was like two heart beats playing in harmony; it was beautiful. And she pressed the phone closer to her ear, laying down again. She listened to it until she fell asleep.
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YOU ARE READING
Pulse
Romantiek[ Trough words, letters, messages and phone calls. Trough songs, poems and pictures. Trough black and blue, coma and worse; our pulse never stopped synchronizing. ] #68 in Short Story on February 13th 2015
