Love, Helena

Chapter 33

Life was a wild fickle creature. So persistent and resistant, and yet so fragile and delicate. Helena often wondered how different her life had been if her loved ones didn't leave her one after the other.

What if her grandpa has never had a heart attack? What if her parents and grandmother decided against rushing to the hospital in the middle of the night to see him? What if they had never gotten into a car accident?

Then Helena would ask herself, what if they had taken her with them? What if she'd passed almost twenty-one years ago? Would it have been better?

Ironical as life was, the thought only plagued her when she was going through her worst. Never when she was happy, full of joy and laughter. Then the thought vanished one day, that was the day she'd found out she would be a mother. In twenty-one year, not once did the thought cross her mind. She was filled not only with a desire to live, but an urgency and need to continue existing. For her children, undoubtedly. Maybe her selflessness was proof of how little she'd grown from the trauma of losing all her loved ones so young. She probably never recovered correctly. She'd started to despise her self-sacrificial ways when she'd ended up in a stagnant miserable place in life. Out of fear -she called it selflessness then- Helena hadn't changed a thing, because she could lose it all. It would have killed her. Then, there was Xavier... and god he was so courageous. He was everything she lacked, all she wanted to be.

Helena used to think she was so in love with Zach, so sure of it that it'd keep her full for the rest of her life. Oh how ridiculously upset she would get every time she saw Xavier. Every time she felt empty when he'd left. Who was to tell her that growing doubtful of her love was normal? That it was okay and justified? Who was to tell her not to be too harsh on herself, to see reason and admit she couldn't still love a man who tossed her aside like an old pair of worn out socks? She died a little bit inside every time she would talk to Xavier, when she'd crave him like an addict deprived of their narcotic substance.

Xavier would ask her if she were okay. Helena would lie and say she was. He told her she deserved better. Helena didn't believe him. That she should leave before it got worse... and well. It had gotten as worse as could be.

What if I had left? Helena thought, looking down at the girl sleeping in her bed, her chest rising up and down with deep steady breaths. Helena was so used to brushing her fingers through her hair without halting that it almost became second nature. Something she would do without thinking too much about it. If she stopped, the little girl's eyes would twitch, her face would scrunch up and her muscles jerk. Then her body would start trambling and sweating. Then two minutes on the dot, the girl would let out a cry capable of waking up the entire house, and it would take precisely twenty minutes of cooing and gentle coaxing to get her to calm down and settle. Helena then would turn to the nightstand and pour half a cup of water, hold it to the girl's lips and make her drink it slowly. When she'd finish it, Helena would lift the comforter and slide underneath it beside the girl. She would bring her so close to her body and hug her tightly, singing her favourite lullaby aproximately seven times before she would feel her steady heartbeat and deep relaxed breathing again.

How many times had she gone through that same routine? Enough to have it memorized to the T. Nowadays, she would just get Ophelia to sleep in her room. She would stay up running her fingers through her hair until she fell into deep slumber. For an hour maybe? Then, Helena would get up and sit by the desk, getting out a fresh blank paper and ink pen. She had approximately 30 minutes to write what she would, then 10 more minutes to get ready for bed and slide back in to hold Ophelia.

~

He had woken up on the wrong side of the world. That's what the first few minutes of consciousness felt like. He had a strong urge to close his eyes shut and go back to sleep, but god did he refuse to. He blinked through the burning in his sensitive eyes, and although the room was dimly lit, it was still enough to make his eyeballs itch and water. He grunted groggily, then instantly broke into a fit of coughing. His throat burned as well. Screw it. Everything hurt and ached. A machine started beeping loudly beside his bed, the sound of it making him want to tear his ears off. It seemed he was sensitive to sound just as much.  Nothing to do about it. He relaxed back down, simmering in annoyance, but his brain just seemed to fully comprehend the thought. A machine? Why would there be a beeping machine in his room-
The door clicked open and footsteps rushed in making him groan again, trying to cover his ear but he couldn't feel his arms let alone make them do anything.