Yeah Boy And Doll Face

Coma

All I remember is the crying, hurt, pain, lies, deceit, pain and more pain.

I think I'm sleep. I might be in a coma. Or I might be dead. Who knows?

I can't feel anything but the pain that's been pulsing my heart for the past 10 years. Dragging me down, allowing myself to commit sins that I shouldn't have. I'm sorry for the things that I've done and I wish I could take it back.

I think I wanted to commit suicide, and this is what happened. Me trapped in nothing but the darkness surrounding my thoughts and feelings about how my life took a down turn.

All because of love. What is love really? You're supposed to cherish it as if it's your life. Dammit, it is your life.

Love knows no limits.

That's why I'm in a coma. Right?

To it's endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope.

So, that's why I'm here? Cause I held on and didn't want to lose hope of what could be? Cause I wanted. . . No needed something. Love that was strong enough to hold me up.

It can outlast anything.

That's why I'm half dead, with cancer and I'm pregnant. All because. . .

Love still stands when all has fallen.

That's why I want to continue to live, with my miserable life, so I can have a purpose to actually live, learn and love. . .

Jackson's P.O.V.

It's been about yesterday since I threw that beer in Bianca's face. It's just when I saw her I got so angry. I regret doing that, but feelings and drinking put together doesn't mix well.

I feel horrible.

Now I got a call saying that Bianca was in the hospital. The least I could do was check on her.

I rushed down to the hospital and walked up to the reception desk and asked the lady for Bianca's room.

"It's room B513."

I ran to the room, after I got off the elevator. Enduring a painful one minute.

I knocked on the room door and walked in after someone responded to me.

Bianca's mom, the doctor, a nurse, Andy, and Tony were standing around Bianca's bed, covering her from my view.

"What's wrong? Is she okay?"

The room was silent. There was a massive amount of tension in the air, thick enough you could cut it with a butcher knife.

"Are you Jackson?" The doctor asked, writing something down on his clipboard, when I shook my head in confirmation.

"Yes. Now what's wrong?"

"Well, I'm Bianca's doctor, Dr. Williams. And about six months ago she came to complaining about weight gain, vomiting, seizures, weakness and fatigue, anxiety attack, asthma attacks, headaches and vision problems. So we ran some test on her and found that she carries a rare blood disease that was inherited from her mother," he said, pointing to Ms.B. "that's what explains the asthma and anxiety attacks and vision problems. We also found that she had Stage 4 Brain Cancer, which caused the headaches and seizures. It was too late to give her treatment, so we were going to go into surgery."

My heart broke. Was this what she was trying to tell me? And all I did was bitch and throw beer in her face and let some blonde bimbo push her down. I'm a piece of shit. The very definition of it.