⋆⋅ sixteen ⋅⋆

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╔═══*.·:·.★ ✦ ★・:・:*═══╗

Chapter 16

╚═══*.·:·.★ ✦ ★・:・:*═══╝

TW: anxiety, death, sickness, hospitalization, etc.

It didn't really mean anything to me, but after the tweets were sent out, it felt like a small weight was lifted off my chest.

The rest of the day was spent hanging out with Quackity, Tubbo, and Tommy. We watched a couple movies and just talked like we normally would on late night discord calls off stream.

Niki <3

Hey!! Just telling you we're out for dinner and should be back in about an hour, Wilbur says to be ready for tomorrow bc were on the move again! :)

We had decided to turn in earlier then we had other nights, because we had an earlier flight. We all head into our rooms and slowly drifted off to sleep. As I fell into the deep slumber, dark images poured into my head. I don't know why my brain decided to bring the bad memories.

Suddenly I was in a hospital waiting room, the only sound was a slight hum coming from the heat generator, and the little bell tinkling from the small Christmas tree in the corner.

"Mommy where is Olive?" the dank hospital waiting room was getting boring.

"she's sick honey" Mom was rubbing my back; tears were pouring down her face.

"but she's a baby, she'll get better" for a six-year-old, I was awfully optimistic.

"yes, pray to god she gets better for me, will you"

"yes mommy I will"

Now my brain morphed the picture of the room where she lay, my dad was there also. Normally, she was a bright bubbly baby that enjoyed playing with her toys, but now, she lay asleep, tubes were coming out from everywhere, and the slow beeping from the machine didn't help our families growing anxiety.

The doctor came in, he carried the worried look that every person makes when they have bad news. I knew that little baby Olive's lungs weren't stable, and she wouldn't make it through Christmas. I kept praying to god that my little sister would get better, but the next morning the slow beeping came to a stop, and in that moment, I stopped believing in god.

I saw flashes of many memories all smashed together running through my head. The funeral, the tiny coffin that was too small for any human, my parents locking the door to the nursery and never going back in, the yells I could hear from my room. I knew that the only reason my parents were still together was me, and that piled onto the guilt I felt for years. I had stopped talking in class, my friends were too bothered to care about my sadness, and I was lonely.

And then just like that I was back, staring at the ceiling of the hotel room, in a cold sweat. I didn't know the tears were streaming down my face until Tommy got out of bed and sat next to me,

"woah what's wrong? Are you alright?" he held my shoulders waiting for an answer, but my throat was beyond working , so I dug my head into his chest and stayed there sobbing quietly. After what I assumed was around half an hour, I sat up and told him about my baby sister unexpectedly dying near Christmas of cystic fibrosis when she was two. I hadn't told anyone myself about my sister, so it felt weird to be open about it.

"Molly I'm—so sorry" he hugged me, and we sat there for a bit more in the darkness.

"is that why everyone calls you Ollie?" he asked, brushing my hair with his fingers softly.

𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄, 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐭Where stories live. Discover now