"Isaac, do you think Augustus is in oblivion?" I ask softly as Isaac and I sit in the Literal Heart of Jesus, us being the first kids here. I kind of feel out of place--The room seems to not only lack the presence of other kids, but more specifically, the presense of Augustus Waters.
He pushes his glasses that hide his empty eye sockets up, and has a moment of hesitance. "No. Yeah. Maybe. I don't know." his voice sounds tired. "I want to say no. God, you have no idea-- well, actually, you probably do-- how much I wish that he was sitting here in ghost formation in the same freaking room as us, or up in the pearly gates playing the harp with Jesus or some shit. But..." Isaac trails off.
"The world is not a wish-granting factory." I finish, although Gus isn't here to confirm it. Or maybe he is. I can't bring myself to believe it.
Isaac turns his head to look at me in a way that makes me forget he has no vision. "Yeah, that about sums it up, doesn't it?"
***
Support group drones on. I hadn't attended since I had looked for the nonexistent letter to me that Gus had written. The words of his letter to Peter Van Houton are permanently etched into my brain. I recall Isaac telling Gus that support group helps. With what, I realize, I have no idea. Helps scare off the cancer? Helps you cope? Helps you let go? All it does for me is help me remember how unfair the world is. As if I need a reminder.
Augustus' name is tacked onto the end of the long list of people cancer victims, and it seems to echo in my mind as I stand up from the chair I am sitting in once we are dismissed. As I bring myself to my feet, I feel lightheaded. I instinctively adjust the tube around my neck, and guide Isaac to the elevator, blinking in a daze through the multicolored spots clouding my vision. My breathing sounds shallow to even myself.
I punch in the number for the first floor into the elevator's control panel. When the elevator lurches downwards, my stomach seems to lodge itself into my throat, suddenly making me feel nauseous. I adjust the nubbins in my nose, trying not to freak out. My oxygen tank was fine earlier...
I attempt to swallow a couple times to dislodge the lump in my throat, but it only makes me cough, making it worse.
Once the elevator comes to a halt, I vomit.
YOU ARE READING
The Fault In Our Stars Sequel
FanfictionTwenty days since Augustus Waters, the lanky, blue eyed boy with the crooked smile and a fear of oblivion limped across this earth. Twenty days since I've been called Hazel Grace. Twenty-eight days since his pre-funeral, where I read him the eulogy...
