𝙎𝙚𝙡𝙛𝙞𝙚 - 𝙅𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙚

Pinky Promise

There was an annoying beep next to his ear, he didn't like it, his alarm clock wasn't supposed to go off anymore, Milo didn't go to school.
His eyes squeezed together in their already shut form before opening, only to flinch back shut at the bright light he saw in return.
Sucking it up, he kept them open the second time he tried, his room wasn't this white, so the sight in front of him scared him.
There were grey blinds by the window, shut to keep the sun out, though it didn't do much for the light that invated the young Swan's vision.
His eyes looked down to his body, there was a knitted blanket tucking him into the bed, despite the comfort, he was cold.
That could only mean one thing.
He was in a hospital and not dead.
Milo made a sound of discomfort, getting the attention from the only person who was sat in the room with him.
"Milo," The soft voice called out.

He turned his head, wrong move, a sharp pain started to throb.
He winced, trying to clear his eyes as he looked to the woman who had called his name.
His Mom.
Renée was safe.
Tears welled in his eyes but she rushed over, scooting her chair closer to wipe them away.
She looked like she had been there for a while, her hair was greasy, pulled back into a ponytail, her clothes were crinkled and dirty.
She was being a Mom and not leaving her unconscious son alone in a hospital.
For once, she was doing her job.
She hushed him softly, as if she was speaking to a baby, gently moving his hair from his eyes as she brushed under them, removing the tears.
Milo went to lift his hand but she put hers on top of it, stopping him from movement as if any other action would cause him to break.
His mind wandered, what had happened? Where was Bella? Was James still after them, what was happening?
"What's goin' on?" Milo asked, his voice deep, dry.

"You're in the hospital," Renée told, stroking her sons hand, "You went to get Bella to come back home and just as you'd convinced her, she fell, you tried to stop her but you tripped over her leg and you both fell down two flights of stairs but only you fell out of the window!"
Milo gasped, shocked at the news, trying to remember.

"I fell out of a window?" He asked, somewhere in his dark mind finding it funny, "Ouch,"

Renée let out a small chuckle at her son's dark humour but nodded, sighing deeply, "You don't remember?"

Milo shook his head slowly, trying to remember.
But that was a lie. 
He remembered James and the ballet studio. Bella...
When had they fallen, at the hotel? Was James just a memory?
He remembered seeing angels, two beautiful angels that sat over him, one was crying and trying to hold him whilst the other was yelling and stabbing him with needles.
He remembered being in the hotel and having an arguement with Jasper, how he used Spencer's phone and the way Jasper sounded.
Then there was also a voice, a mocking, giddy voice that clouded his mind. 
Ripping him limb by limb...setting him on fire...
That was it, the memories flooded back to him within seconds, the hotel room, the conversation with Spencer, Bella's face with it was James and not their Mom on the phone, him asking if Jasper was alive only to find out he had been killed.
Jasper was dead.
He was dead all for nothing. 
James had been killed and his mate hadn't.
Only he died.
Milo let out a sound of emotion, his mother caught on and her hand was on his cheek again, wiping away the tears that formed in his eyes.
His lungs spasmed as he cried slightly, his ribs screaming at him to stop the movement, but he couldn't.

"Are you in pain sweetie?" Renée wondered, hovering her finger close to the call button.

Milo wanted to tell her, he wanted to tell her how much he was hurting right now, but no pill or medication could stop this pain inside his heart.
His Mom was actually being a Mom to him now, she was sat beside him in a hospital, stroking his hair and wiping his tears, doing something a Mom should be doing. 
It made his heart break even more. The last time she had done something like this was when he was 15 and broke his hand, now he was 19 and bedbound.
"Yes," He spluttered, his voice breaking so he clenched his jaw, "I wanna see Bella,"

"You can't baby," She frowned, her own heart throbbing at the visual pain her son was in, "I can call a nurse for you?" 
But Milo shook his head, he didn't need a nurse, he wanted-- he wanted--
Rosalie.
The blonde woman was stood at the door, her expression unreadable. 
When Milo noticed her, she walked into the room, smiling slightly at Renée. 
She looked confused but guessed her son knew this woman from the way his tears stopped and he stared at her hopefully.
Milo watched her sit on the very edge of the bed, looking at him with a pityful expression. 
He thought she was looking at him like that for another reason, so the tears crawled back.
Rosalie was quick to realize and grab his hand, looking over her shoulder to Renée.

"Could you give us a moment Mrs. Dwyer?" She asked cooly, watching how Renée nodded, grabbed her bag then walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

"He's dead!" Milo gasped out, holding her hand as if she would dissapear too.
Rosalie's golden eyes flicked up to meet his brown ones.