Crave You -N.H-

Chapter Eighteen: Stormy [EDITED]

Chapter Eighteen: Stormy

        Lizzy helps me pack a few things into Sarah's duffle bag, like jean pants and a sweater. She sits and stares at me from the kitchen island as I dig for Sarah's favorite book and a few movies for her.

        "You love her?" Lizzy asks and I'm taken back by the question but I nod.

        "Take her away for a while," she continues to speak softly "if it was me, I wouldn't stop. I wouldn't be able to sit on the side lines and watch my team play in the championship."

        I nod understanding exactly where she is coming from, Sarah was going to lose it. Not being able to do anything to help her team, not being able to play in the one game she was working towards. This will kill her worse than the cancer.

        "She's not going to like this," I mumble and Lizzy shakes her head taking a deep breath.

        They hadn't been friends for a long time, but there was a deep connection between the two of them. Both knowing what it was like to fight so hard and so long for something. They had become very close and now I can see the hurt in Lizzy's eyes.

        Hurt that she wasn't told about the sickness, hurt that her best friend is lying in a hospital. Hurting like the rest of us.

        "She'll thank you for it eventually."

        "Let's hope so."

        I kiss Lizzy's cheek and leave her sitting there in the kitchen alone. I drive to the hospital shaking through every bone, terrified that she would refuse my help. Brad had told me everything I needed to know to help, but it was out of my hands now. It was up to Sarah.

        When I get there Bradley is gone, and Sarah is still sleeping her face beautiful and pale. I splash cold water on my face and sit down in the chair across from her. She is sleeping so peacefully and her body needs the sleep so I leave her.

        Eventually she lets a sharp moan go and rolls over, she tries to sit up but her body is sore and she just falls back to the bed. I stand to help her but she holds out her hand for me to stop. I watch her do it herself causing pain throughout her body as she does so.

        "I'm going to drive you home," I say knowing full well I'm the last person she wants to see or to drive her home.

        She stretches her legs out over the bed and goes to stand but her knees buckle. I jump to help her but she pushes my hand away and carefully slides her feet to the floor again standing better this time. I hand her the duffle bag and she changes into the sweat pants I brought her.

        She strips from the gown without thought that I am still standing in front of her. She pulls the pants on over her frail, skinny legs and tries to hide the bruises. All of them from simple football practice or bumping into the bed on accident. Her torso is in the same shape, extruding ribs from lack of eating and sleeping. She cringes as she pulls the clean sweater down and over herself.

        She follows me quietly down the hallway of the hospital after she checks out, but not before she refuses my help to walk. I carry her bags and she doesn't say a word to me as we make our way to the car. I help her up into the car and close the door behind her, all the while she refuses to talk to me.

        We drive for only a few short minutes before she realizes I'm not taking her home, "This isn't the way to the dorms."

        Her voice cracks because its so dry, I hand her a bottle of water and she takes it without argument. I sigh and look out the window pretending that I didn't hear what she had just said to me. It's not until she slams the water bottle back into the cup holder that I look over at her.