When The Sun Came Up, You Were Gone

Which Is More Beautiful?(1)

Puking isn't a good sign for anyone.

Usually meant someone had a stomach bug, food poisoning, or too much sugar, but either way it was a pretty bad sign. When you puke, you hope to god it doesn't reek too badly nor hurts. The worst type of puking is stomach acid, it feels like you're just dry heaving and slowly murdering yourself.

But for someone like me, a person identified as high-rate of death from catching anything, puking is a sign of immediate hospital run, especially when I begin to puke nonstop. This morning, around four A.M., Alison called for an emergency run to the hospital since she found me halfway conscious, on my knees, hurling into the toilet bowl. Honestly, she should just be happy I made it to the toilet!

Now I am laying on the bed like a sardine in a can, waiting for the damn doctor to come and give me no new information and some more drugs. Cause what else do the doctors do for people like me, who have no stable diagnoses? My mom and sister were taken away to be spoken to, so my miserable company was the son of a bitch Chase.

"How's the lighting? Good enough or more to the left?"

"Choke on your spit and die."

"Now that isn't very nice Rome," he laughed, "how you feeling though? Anything burning?" He stood up, checking my oxygen levels and shit.

"Actually yeah," I cough, hunching forward a bit.

"What's wrong?" He quickly helps me up, letting me go through my coughing fit. Tears welled up in my eyes as my chest began to ache from all the harsh jolting. "What are you feeling Noah, I need you to speak to me."

"My burning," I barely whisper. He moves his ear closer to hear me, "My burning hatred for you is growing stronger and stronger." A moment of complete stillness washed over us. Never in my life had I wanted to laugh so hard at the dickhead standing beside me. He moved back, giving me the dirtiest glare he could muster, only having me cough as I laughed, "Aww what's wrong bumblebee? Your stinger broke?"

"I'm going to tell Alison to feed you corn from now on."

"You heartless mother fuck-" "Noah? Is everything alright?" We both see my mother standing next to the doctor at the foot of my bed with a face full of concern. Chase moves back to his seat as I just smiled at her.

"Everything is perfectly fine mom, are you alright?"

She comes to the side of my bed, placing her pale hand on my knee, "I am doing very well. You seem to be very skinny dear, are you eating enough."

"Oh I am, but it seems that my stomach doesn't like to hold it down for too long," I joked, but she found no humor. I fixed myself, feeling the tension thicken between us, "Why aren't you at work?"

"Because you are here," she flatten out a piece of the sheet, running her hands over it, "I can do work later."

She didn't know this, but I hated when she was near me. I wanted her to be at work, busying herself with productive matter, not with my lame self. I just nodded, clearing my throat, "Well you better hurry back then, those guys can't survive without you. I'll be here, fine. You know I can't die until you do, you made me swear on it." I've always struggled to meet her eyes, but now... it was even harder. Instead of being brave enough, I stared at the floor, hoping she would just get up and leave. After a moment or two, she got to her feet and went to the door. We didn't to exchange goodbyes or looks, we both knew, we both understood. It took a lot to hold back whatever wanted to gush out of me, "Chase?"

"Yes."

"Shut my door and alert my sister that I am... well that I need to rest and can't take company right now," I muttered out, barely able to hear myself, "make sure she leaves this place too." He agreed to my request, shutting the chipped brown door behind him. The silence was calming, like it brought this wave of release. The curtains were wide open, allowing me to see the little field that was empty and a few buildings in the far distance.

During the summers before I got sick, I would go up to my grandma's house. She had acres of land filled with nothing but fruit trees and cattle. Kendra and I would go exploring by the creek near the edge of her land. I became fascinated by the little river when I spotted my first ever Fox beside it. It's gleaming red fur mesmerized me. I felt this attraction to the animal, like I had known it for years and years. The way it crawled around, spying on its victims or how it was sniff the air every few minutes just gave me this sense of familiarity. Since that day, I would hike up the bed, hoping to come across the creature, but I never did.

A fox. It symbolizes mischievous behavior, one full of tricks. I wasn't anything like a fox, more subtle and unclever, but I felt that if I was to be reborn as anything else, I would be a fox. Some say it's a spirit animal, others say it's a connection between mother nature and myself. I believe its just a hopeful mind, for foxes are seen as an animal that can sneak its way out of anything, whereas I am stuck in the hole the predator dug for me.

I crumbled my sheets into my palm, cursing underneath my breath. I wouldn't cry, no. There was no need to cry. Life was life and I knew that since the very beginning. To regress back to being that hopeless ten year old would do no good. So I just stared off, watching the sun go asleep and the moon wake up and takes its crown.

What was more beautiful?

The closing eye of the sun or the waking yawn of the moon?