Misery.
That was the only feeling that seemed to be bouncing off of the walls covered with peeling wallpaper, the fluorescent lights that seemed to give the room an eerie feeling of sorrow, and the lightly stained tiles on the floor.
Everything was spotlessly clean, yet the taste and feel of sickness still hung in the air like a putrid stench. It was filled with countless quarters, corridors, bathrooms, and bedrooms of sick people; the patients sat in rows glumly, with ineptitude and sorrow masking their faces, as though they were certain that they would never get any better. Although the floors had recently been scrubbed clean and the stench of detergent still hung in the air, the stains of all the tears that had been shed in the last millennium were still evident.
Crying, never-ending murmurs of prayers, newspapers rattling, heated arguments, the fizz of a pop can being opened, families talking amongst themselves, the sound of someone hurling, glass doors sliding open and shut, and names being called to the front desk: these were all the sounds that surrounded me as I sat motionless in the waiting room, staring at the blank wall that had been my only form of entertainment for the past two hours.
I stared down at my hands then, meandering them as though distracting myself would hold back the confusion that was slowly building up inside of me.
The room was crowded, so much so that you could practically feel the waves of anxiety reverberating off of most of the people sitting on the plastic chairs, also possibly waiting in anticipation and conceivably fear for some sort of news. Some had despair expelled on their very breaths and it was obvious who they were; they had downcast faces, as though they were in the process of attempting to deal with the pain that had brought them here in the first place. Some were very talkative, despite the wary expressions they wore. The last kind of people were just sitting there staring at the television, or having hushed conversations on their cell phones.
I let out a breath and leaned back in my seat, before dragging my gaze from the peeling wallpaper on the wall to the tiles covering the floor. The hospital smelled like artificial death, as though the natural order of things doomed the patients and sucked out the little hope they had left. The florescent lights glared harshly on the tile floors; I squinted, letting out a low sigh.
What was taking so long?
As I waited, every opening door or sudden shrill sound coming from the little children a few feet away from me caused me to jump slightly, my hand unconsciously tightening around the poor cell phone resting in my laps.
Glancing between the hospital doors where Avian was being attended to and my hands, the stench of bleach and disinfectant filled my nose. I looked up then, to see a cleaner dragging a buggy that was filled with cleaning supplies and detergent.
I leaned back in my chair and ran my hands through my hair.
"Miss?"
I dragged my gaze from the ceiling when I heard my name. The doctor walked toward me, his face slack and his brows furrowed. He seemed to have aged a decade in the last two hours; he sauntered carefully over to me, motioning for me to remain seated. Warily, he dropped into the chair adjacent to the one I was currently seated in, and let out a low sigh.
"He's lost a lot of blood," the doctor said softly, glancing at me with a grimace on his lips. I swallowed, my stomach slowly turning to ice as a million possibilities of what could have happened played in my head. I felt the muscles of my heart tighten with incredible force then, sending gushes of blood down my veins in a single movement as I stared at the doctor's hesitant expression.
"Is he going to be okay?" I said, my voice hoarse and slightly croaky. I cleared my throat discreetly as the doctor let out another sigh and glanced up at me from his clipboard. He didn't say anything and he didn't need to; one look into his eyes told me everything.
Avian was anything but okay.
I froze then, my throat constricting silently. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears; the fear surrounded me as though it was a being in itself. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around myself, looking away from the doctor as I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat.
"If you don't mind me asking," the doctor pushed himself up from the chair and leaned closer to me, as though he were about to tell me something no one else knew. I leaned forward, mirroring his actions as curiosity rose within me "why did he stop his treatment?"
I blinked.
The color slowly drained from my face as I stared at the doctor. It was as though I had been crippled by some concealed, distressing force, and thoughts flew through my mind as I tried making sense of everything. The doctor stared in confusion then, and I watched slowly as his expression suddenly grew enlightened. He sighed knowingly and gave me a small comforting smile.
"You're not family, are you?" It sounded as more of a statement than an actual question; a blush slowly crept up my neck. The doctor nodded then, and slowly stood, shooting me an apologetic smile.
I stood.
"I'm sorry; I can't disclose that information to you"
"I'm a close friend," I said, my breath quickening as I looked at the doctor pleadingly. He scratched the back of his neck uncertainly and avoided eye contact with me.
"We've contacted his mother," the doctor shrugged at me as he slowly backed away from where I stood "you'll have to wait for her to show up"
With that said, he quickly walked away, leaving me standing and staring in shock after him. Slowly, my body began to tremble and grow rapidly numb.
I lowered myself back into the chair, my heart hammering heavily in my chest. Slowly, I ran both hands through my hair and lowered my head to my lap, burying my face between my inner thighs, and then, I closed my eyes.
Why?
Memories of Lolita flooded through me as my throat constricted, my mind fogging up against my will. I placed my chin on my knee, my lips quivering slightly as I stared absent-mindedly at the stained tiles.
What was wrong with Avian?
I swallowed, trying to get rid of the burning sensation in my throat, as I raised my palms to rub away the itch that had started to form. My mind wandered then, to what it would be like if I lost Avian too. Suddenly, it felt as though there was a heavyweight placed on my shoulders; like a cloud of gloom had formed above me out of the despair that roamed the room ceaselessly.
It was then that a wave of hopelessness washed over me.
Was this it? Was this how the rest of my life was going to be? People I cared about constantly being snatched away from me? The endless repetition of history?
Was that all my life was destined to be?
Slowly, with extremely shaky hands and a heavy heart, I dialed Rain. Shakily, I raised the phone to my ear, muttering encouraging words to Rain telepathically for her to pick up the phone. When the phone went into voice mail, I cursed under my breath and repeated the process a couple more times, before giving up and trying Angel.
She didn't pick up either; I dumped my phone on the chair beside me and put my head in my hands, before running them through my hair.
"Just relax Shay," I heard a voice say next to me and my head snapped up. I glanced toward the voice, letting out a sigh of relief and utter happiness when Lolita lowered herself into the chair beside me. She sat down with a small smile, then placed her hand on my back and started rubbing it soothingly.
I glanced at her, the lump rising again in my throat. Taking in a deep breath, I let out a sigh and crossed my hands against my chest to stop them from shaking so profusely.
"I," I muttered, glancing away as I ran my hands through my hair once again. Lolita shushed me softly, before placing her hands in mine. I glanced down in anguish at our hands and then trailed my eyes up to her face.
"You'll get through this"
I nodded several times, as though I was trying to convince myself more than her, before kneading my fingers agitatedly.
"Where is he?" I heard a dulcet voice say then, and I glanced up.
A woman, possibly in her mid to late thirties rushed through the hospital doors, her heels clicking as she made her way towards the nurse's station. Her hair was a rich shade of cocoa brown, flowing freely in waves that complemented her porcelain-like skin. She was dressed in a pale, floral blue dress that clung to her skin and stopped right above her knees; there was a fur stole dangling around her neck and the smell of Burberry wafted toward me.
Burberry.
I glanced at the woman in sudden realization; this was Avian's mother.
Scrambling to my feet, I pulled my hands from Lolita's and hurried toward Mrs. Carter, liberation suddenly rushing through me and carrying with it a sense that everything would be okay now.
"It's getting worse"
I froze, a couple of feet away from where Avian's mother stood with the doctor, as he explained to her what was wrong with her son. Slowly, I lowered myself into a plastic chair close to them, so I could hear better and maybe finally figure out what the actual problem was. Ducking my head, so both adults would not realize that I was eavesdropping on their conversation, I took in everything they were saying.
"He didn't want the treatment! What was I supposed to do?" his mother said irately, crossing her arms as she seethed to herself. I watched the doctor look at her distastefully, as though he couldn't understand why she could not just force the treatment on him. She was his mother and the boy wasn't even eighteen yet.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Carter," the doctor said remorsefully as he ran his hands through his hair to gather himself. The nurse that had been settled behind the station silently excused herself, probably glad to get out of harm's way; and away from the hard stare Avian's mother was dishing out.
"Don't you dare 'Mrs. Carter' me Mason," Avian's mother said, slapping the doctor upside the head, and causing me to stare in shock. Mrs. Carter knew the doctor on more personal terms than a basic doctor-patient relationship, because she glared at him while on the other hand, the doctor looked at her, his eyes glistening with fear, terror, even.
"Look Anastasia," the doctor said then and although his features were lined with guilt and the slightest hint of panic, he jutted out his chin defensively.
"What?"
"The tumor is growing rapidly and we need to do something"
I blinked.
"How much time do we have?"
"It's too early to tell but not much, that's for sure"
I blinked again.
The doctor's voice replayed in my head; that one word getting louder each time until there was a rhythmic beat ringing in my ears. Suddenly, a deep torment gripped my heart in its inexorable grasp, as though it were bounding itself to me for all eternity.
Gently, I stood from the plastic chair, mindlessly putting one foot in front of the other. My emotions were heightened: the sharp bang of a door echoing twice as loud, the buzzing of a nearby fly as irritating, the shrill of the children as annoying. I steadily made my way toward Avian's hospital room; the room I had waited outside for the past three and a half hours. I walked to the window of his hospital room and glanced in; he lay on the bed inert, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling slowly. The room was dimly lit, with one or two bulbs flickering slightly. On one side of the bed, there was an electronic machine sitting on a cart with odd-looking wires coming out of it, the other ends of those wires attached to some sort of headband sitting on the top of Avian's head; on the other side of the bed, there sat a table with a bunch of get well cards crammed around the massive bouquet the hospital had given him. There was a half-empty water glass with a bent straw in it, an untouched tray of disgusting hospital food, and a telephone that did not look like it even worked.
Voices flashed in my head; "tumor growing rapidly" "not much time"
Slowly, as I stared at the boy laying motionlessly on the bed with his eyes closed, it felt as though my heart was being ripped from my chest; there was suddenly an aura of grey closing in around me. A mist that wouldn't go away, enveloping me and drawing me into some sort of darkness.
A state of depression that I couldn't see myself through. I dropped to my knees then, as though a terrible weight had been abandoned on my shoulders; as though a boulder had been laid on me and I gasped out for air.
I could have been crying, but I was to numb to even think about crying. I tried to breathe, tried to think, tried to escape it, but it seemed impossible
Desperately, I covered my ears with my hands, placed my head on my lap, and closed my eyes.