"Hurry!"
Cathy must be speaking to my head as I quickly made my way to the emergency room. But a familiar company caught up with me.
Just as I entered the emergency room doors, my father Clark also caught up with me. The entire family was back together, but is it too little, too late?
Waiting for the doctor's report made me anxious and desperate at the same time. It was like deja vu all over again, only this time, it was my mother who was fighting for her life.
Just then, Michelle and Cathy approached me and began to tell what happened to Charissa, but not after a tearful embrace between two close companions.
"Christine, your mother suffered a heart attack," Cathy explained. "I saw her on your room the other night. She drank too much scotch and looked extremely drunk and depressed. Charissa couldn't respond to me at all. The next morning, she began experiencing chest pains and all of a sudden, she fell unconscious."
"Auntie, I should've listened to her," I responded, blaming myself for Charissa's condition. "It's all my fault. She is in the hospital because of me."
I pounded the wall in disgust so many times that blood began to seep through my fists. Michelle, Cathy and Clark pleaded for me to stop to no avail.
Finally, Michelle grabbed me and wrapped my bloodied fists with her handkerchief. I fell exhausted and cried as loud as I could.
Michelle and Cathy escorted me out of the hospital in order to calm me down. Then all of a sudden, rain began to pour outside.
It was at that point when Cathy revealed the truth about Charissa.
"Christine, there's something you need to know," Cathy began her story. "Your mother Charissa has a congenital heart disease which she inherited from our mother."
My face trembled in fear and both eyes rolled in horror as Cathy made a stunning revelation. She continued on with the story just as Clark joined us.
"Charissa was relatively healthy up to that point. She was never a smoker or a drinker; she always prioritized good health in more ways than one. But then came the night you and Charissa argued on a simple television show."
As the story rolled along, tears began to fall from my eyes. Cathy continued speaking.
"That argument resulted in you leaving home in secrecy. From that point on Charissa started to drink heavily, which worsened her heart."
"Cathy, it was my fault," I confessed to my aunt. "I should've listened attentively to her and stayed home in the first place. My first thought was she pretended to sincerely love and care for me, but I was mistaken. You're looking at a very bad daughter."
"No you aren't," Cathy answered back. "Sometimes arguments happen, and they can be solved easily. But deep down inside, your mother still loves you. Not even a simple argument can taint that."
"Cathy is right," Clark agreed. "Your mother and I bicker sometimes, but they are just minor squabbles that are easily solved. It's hard to prevent these things, but it's easy to clear them out."
As we returned inside the hospital, a sobering news met us from the doctor.
"Cathy, Michelle, I have some bad news," the doctor began his statement. "Charissa is in critical condition, and she is in the intensive-care unit right now."
The news shocked all of us to the point that we started hugging and crying in each other's arms. Shortly afterwards, I left for the chapel while Michelle followed suit.
Kneeling down on the chapel pew, I tearfully began to ask God.
"Lord, sorry for what happened to Charissa. I made the worst sin a daughter could ever commit by locking myself up, ignoring my mother's plea for forgiveness and then leaving the house without her knowing."
My voice began to crack as my prayer continued.
"I thought Charissa never loved me. All this time, there was a perception that she was faking any sympathy for me, that so-called 'love' turned out to be preposterous. It proved to be a huge mistake."
Upon reaching my hands to image of Christ, I made one last plea to God.
"Lord I'm begging you. Please save Charissa's life so that we can have the chance to say sorry. It may not be easy but please, help her."
Outside the chapel, Michelle saw me weep in prayer. She tried to approach me, but her heart would not let her do it and Michelle left the chapel sobbing.
Returning to the intensive-care unit, Cathy began to cry as well. Looking at her sister on the window made her feel despondent, the thought of losing a companion weighed heavily on her.
"What's the matter auntie?" I approached a tearful Cathy as she stared at Charissa's bed.
"Christine, I loved your mother just as much as you loved her," Cathy explained, her eyes awash with sentimental tears. "I'm at a loss of words right now. Watching your mother struggle like that makes me feel sad."
Cathy and I sat down, and she continued her faithful reflection on Charissa.
"Christine, when Charissa was working abroad she would always provide me specific instructions each and every week on how to properly take care of you. Over the years, me and your dear mother grew closer together in spite of the considerable distance, to the point that we were considered more to be friends than just sisters. That's how we naturally thought of each other."
"I now understand dear aunt," my tearful voice resonated inside Cathy's ears. "Charissa dearly appreciated me so much. The stunt I pulled the other night was unacceptable and disrespectful. All that fake love and sympathy, that was all untrue. My mother does care for me, and even as we engaged in petty arguments, it never deterred us from staying close to each other."
Just as Cathy and I started embracing, we heard a continuous beeping sound. Suddenly, the electrocardiogram flashed a flat line, and all of us screamed for help.
Doctors rushed to Charissa's bed, her life now at stake. As Cathy, Michelle, Clark and I looked on, we can only hope that they save her life.