A Stormy Love

Chaper 12

December 14

*At the hospital*

The bitter taste of coffee enters your mouth as you slurp the black liquid from the styrofoam cup.

"You're still here?" You hear a voice from behind you.

It's been 6 hours since Jake went into cardiac arrest and it's well past midnight. The flashbacks and visions of Jake attached to those scary machines fill your thoughts.

"(Y/N)? Hey, what are you still doing here?" The voice was Tom. "You should go home. It's been a long day," he says grabbing onto your arm attempting to help you up.

"Fuck you." You mumble, slapping his hand off your forearm. "I'm not leaving until I can see him."

There was a moment of silence. It's obvious Tom was just trying to help, but there was no way I'm leaving this hospital without knowing Jake's going to be alright.

"Well you can't survive on stale coffee. Will you at least come get something to eat with me?"

I can't imagine eating right now. But the company was refreshing so I stand up and rest my head on Tom's shoulder as we walk to the cafeteria. It's so sweet how Jake's friends have come to see how he's doing. They're probably also here just to make sure I don't have an emotional breakdown over this...

Jake's parents were on vacation in Mexico at the time. As soon as they found out they got a flight straight away and will be here by tomorrow afternoon. They're like family to me; I bet they're going to hate me if they find out this is all my fault.

"What's wrong?" Tom asks, taking a bowl of chicken noodle soup off the cafeteria counter, "what are you thinkin' about?"

We walk over to a table in the middle of the room; we were the only ones there which was predictable since it was the middle if the night.

"This is my fault." I whisper, unable to get the words completely out.

"What?"

"I said, this is my fau--" here come the tears.

Leaning my head on the table sobbing, and Tom puts a hand on my back doing the best he can to comfort me. He's quite a social butterfly except for times of panic like this.

"Unless you were the semi driver who crashed into him, I'm pretty sure this has nothing to do with you," he jokes.

I lift my head up and stare at him.

"Is this funny to you?"

"No c'mon (Y/N), I was just teasing. I'm just trying to make you feel better."

Standing up and angrily slamming the plastic chair against the table, I say something that could be interpreted horribly wrong.

"Yeah? Well make me feel better if I found out I killed my boyfriend."

Storming out of the room I run as fast as I can to the parking lot. Finally I can be alone. Alone to my thoughts. Alone to my tears. Alone.

Hopefully not forever.