Letting you go [COMPLETE]

Chapter 19 ~ Part 2

Split into two parts again. I'm too tired to write the second part. It's all one chapter though.

Unedited.

Go and check out @NinaDoad! Her books are really good and she deserves more notice!

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"Well isn't this cosy," an unknown voice drawls, breaking though the haze I'm in.

Turning quickly, I stare at one of Jordon's friends. He's just as built as James, probably on the football team as well. His hair is almost shaved to his head, eyes so brown they're almost black. Smirking at us, he openly stares at the oxygen machine beside me. I can't tell whether or not he's just curious, or if it's something else.

Jordon comes into view, punching his friend on the shoulder. From where I sit I can hear the punch and, despite an attempt, I can clearly see the wince his friend does in return. "Really man? Don't be an asshole."

His friend just continues to stare at me. His gaze is unnerving. Too focused-like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. Only I don't want to be solved. Tapping the back of James' hand, I grab the mp3-though I still don't know the actual name of it. He looks over raising an eyebrow, seemingly unaware of the people behind him. He probably is unaware of it. Grabbing the notebook that we'd left sitting behind us haphazardly, I reach for the pen. I think your brother wants to leave. He's waiting behind us with one of his friends.

Frowning, he looks behind him. Before he can hide the reaction, I see the anger flash in his eyes. There's a story behind the look and I know it has something to do with his past. Probably the suicide attempts. It's the reason I don't ask. An arm curls around my shoulders and I jump, staring at James with wide eyes. He'd not looking at me, instead at his brother, signing rapidly with one hand.

Jordon signs back, glancing at his friend out of the corner of his eye. Then he stares at me, frowning as if he's worried. I lean into James, realising that I don't want to remove his arm, despite the fact that I should. Human comfort is something that you don't get being the dying girl. There's a fear that the cancer will spread because of contact and, ridiculously, that the person will die on the spot.

Standing up, I take out to plugs in my nose, shrugging out of James' arm. Winding them around the handle of my machine, I make sure they're secure before letting them go. If water gets into the plugs, the whole point of the machine will just become redundant. I don't want to breathe in water-that's probably the only thing right in my body. Stepping into the water, I test the depth with my foot before stepping in fully. The water swirls around my legs, just in line with my knee.

Swishing my hand along the top of the water, I breathe in real air. When you first start breathing through a machine, the air feels the same. After a while, though, there's a clear difference.

A hand waves in front of my face and I look at James. I raise an eyebrow in question. You hungry? he mouths.

At that moment, my stomach grumbles. Rolling my eyes, I look at Jordon, reminding myself to tell James to teach my sign language. "How long have we been here?"

"An hour," he says, running a hand through his damp hair. His chest is wet, the shorts clinging to his legs. "I was going to grab you guys something to eat before I drove you to the city."

This is what being a child felt like, I realise. One broken lung and suddenly you're broken. For some reason, it's never annoyed me as much as it does right now. The hour has been one of the best in my life at least. Forcing a smile, I step onto a rock, careful to keep my skirt from lifting too high. The last thing I want to do is flash everyone. A hand grabs my arm, pulling me up to stable ground. Without me realising, James has already put his shirt back on, putting everything away. I smile at him gratefully.