Letting you go [COMPLETE]

Chapter 5

This is super short. I know. I was planning on having one huge chapter but I decided to split it into two instead. Mean, I know. 

Unedited.

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I hear voices. They’re yelling frantically. Others are barely audible, filled with so much emotion I can practically feel it choking me. I hear tears. Heart wrenching sobs, so loud they echo around the room. I hear footsteps. Loud and constant, as if someone is pacing. I hear beep. Of what, I have no idea. I just hear insistent beeping that never seems to stop.

Yet I can’t see anything. The world is black, like my eyes aren’t working.

I try to figure out where I am but everything is hazy and I can’t remember anything. I don’t know where I am or why I can’t see.

I can hear conversations, the voices familiar and yet I can’t place who they belong to.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” cries a distraught female voice. “Wake up, baby. Please. I need you. Don’t die on me.”

I test the word in my mind. Die. Die? Am I dying? Is that why I can’t see? Has the cancer finally decided to kill me? Has my one useful lung given up?

A male voice, sounding right near my ear, says with gentleness I’ve never heard before, “It’s okay sweetheart. She’ll be okay. I promise you. It will all be okay.” His words are little more than a coo.

The same woman speaks again, clearly emotionally unstable. “Everything is not okay. My daughter is hooked up to machines that are the only thing keeping her alive.” Her voice hitches and I can hear her tears. “She’s dying. My only daughter is dying.” Her breath hiccups and stops talking.

“Shhh, honey. It’s going to be fine. I promise you.”

The woman cries, “You can’t promise anything! She’s dying!”

I hear a throat clear, before another voice speaks. Unlike the other ones, this isn’t familiar to me. “Mrs Adams, I have news—”

The man is cut off by a round of tears so heart wrenchingly painful I can feel them in my soul.

Mrs Adams. Adams?

Finally the pieces of the puzzle solve themselves and I want to cry with her. Mum is here. Mum. Crying because I’m dying. I’m not sure if I start to cry but I know that I want to. That means dad is here too. They’re both here to watch their daughter die.

I try to move. Try to reach my hand out. Try to show them I won’t die.

But it’s all useless. My body is as unresponsive as my vision.

“Mrs Adams, she—”

At the sound of the doctor’s voice—at least I assume that’s who he is,—mum starts to scream hysterically. She sounds crazed and terrified, her voice almost a stutter because of her sobs. “No! She’s not dead! Don’t tell me she’s dead!”

“Mr Adams—”

“She’s not dead! She can’t be dead!”

Voice so calm, I wonder if he’s even human, the doctor orders, “Mr Adams control your wife. I cannot tell you anything if she continues to scream like a banshee.”

“Excuse me? Did you just tell me to control my wife? Does is bother you that my wife crying because her daughter is lying on a hospital bed, because she couldn’t breathe before?” Dad’s voice is perfectly even but I can detect the barely controlled rage in his voice and I can’t see.