Out Into The Light (A Hamilton Fanfic)

Stay Alive

Snow. I know it had been snowing, but there wasn't a window in my hospital room to see it. My chest ached and every breath stimulated a pulse of agony throughout my body. The doctors said the pain medication would work, it didn't.

I ached for the snow to be seen, I ached to be opening my Christmas presents just like any other kid, I ached for my brothers. My vision unfocused as I shivered under the cream colored blankets.

The doctors were trying their best; an IV for liquids, pain medication, and plenty of blankets in the attempt to break my fever. Doctors were stumped at our condition. My father and I had been diagnosed with pneumonia about a week prior and had been sent home with the usual medication. Our cases worsened when the medication didn't work and by December 22nd we were emitted into the hospital. It was now Christmas day without any light on the horizon.

It seemed right, to be dying. Logan, Layton, and Lucas had passed in the course of the year, all in hospital beds. And now here I was in my own hospital bed. In a way it made God fair, to take us all in such a short time. I'd preferred that we'd left all at the same time; we came as one, we should leave as one. But that hadn't happened.

My father was in a bed in the same room. His shallow breathing was raspy and worryingly audible. He'd said nothing to me in our days of illness. We didn't know what was going on or how we got this terrible strain of pneumonia, but we did know that we weren't getting better.

Fatigue weighed me down with the depression I had required over the course of the year. A cough racked through me and I cried out in pain. My already shallow breathing stopped and panic raced through me as I struggled to breath.

The door opened loudly and doctors raced to my aid. A tube slid down my throat and I stumbled into a blanket of darkness.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

I was in a different room when I awoke, and Dad was still in it. This time we had monitors set up. My heart dropped as I recognized the room's furniture and the lack of wallpaper. This had been Logan's room during his time here. I said my final goodbye to him here.

A image of his face appeared in my head. He was smiling with his green eyes shining with life and happiness. His brown hair was cut short and his sun-kissed skin radiated. He wore his soccer uniform and was playing with the black-and-white ball. This was six months before his already problematic heart decided to start giving up.

Loud, powerful coughs brought my attention to my father. His eyes were wide and panicking. His heart monitor beeped quickly, too fast to keep time with. Pain was evident as he closed his fists and his upper body was taken over by the force of the racking coughs. And it didn't stop. The gasps of breath grew shorter and less frequently.

Two nurses and a doctor rushed in and clouded the vision I had of my Dad.

"Daddy," I tried to speak but no sound came out. "Merry Christmas! I love you, don't leave me too" is all I wanted to say. I saw a flash of his arm flailing out before the coughs grew silent. I relaxed, thinking it was all over, but a noise sounded. His monitor beeped.

Beep, beeeep, beeeeeeeeep.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

I suffered through the night and listened to my mom's cries of anguish the following morning. It wasn't until the next day did the medication start to take hold of the illness. And then New Year's Eve came.

I changed out of the hospital gown and into some clothes brought to me by mom. I was still weak and easily winded, but my release papers had been signed. Tiredly, I placed my winter coat over my ill frame and walk out into the hall where Mom waited.

"Have a happy year, Lark, you've deserved it!" called a nurse. I smiled and nodded politely. I felt like I was drowning underwater and I wanted to be pulled under. I smiled fakely to a couple of nurses and headed out of the hospital and to my Mom's now-too-big mini van.

She sat in the drivers seat and cherished the heat. I opened the door and snuggled into shotgun. Mom's hair was a blonde mess and her eyes were rimmed with red. She didn't say anything about my own red eyes and just drove us home.

When home, I stomped through the snow up the concrete stairs. Mom pulled out her key and the heavy door was pushed open. Mom went downstairs and I went upstairs and to my room. I ignored the dirty floor and crawled into bed, not sleeping, just to lay down.

Everything was...bright. Carnation pink walls, carnation pink carpet, carnation pink curtains. My aging Dora the Explorer bedding was filled with bright colors. It was too happy. The pink taunted me, saying "Look how naive you are. This is the real world, might as well quit now." I curled up into a ball and cried for the loss of my childhood. The loss of my father. The loss of me.

Written (12/??/16)

Edited (01/28/17)

Poor Lark. I wanted you guys to get a sense of eleven year old her and see what she felt like. Holidays are meant for  kids, and Lark is a kid but obviously won't have immense happy feelings towards them until she lives with the Miranda's. (Do I even go as far as Christmas?)

This is content for a book of One shots for Out Into the Light that I've been working on for roughly four years. Just thought you'd like to see what I've been working on .
Ever yours,

hlwing