Abigail

Chapter nine.

Chapter nine.

I couldn't breathe.

Upset. Scared. Worried.

He just laid there, tubes and wires all over. I wasn't sure if he was awake or not. I was thinking not, though. His skin was paler than pale and his lips had a tinge of blue in them. His cheeks held next to no colour and he looked older than usual.

The nurse rushed in and connected him to oxygen. I moved myself out of the way, not wanting anything to go wrong because of me. I squeezed Noah's hand, tears spilling down my cheeks.

About fifteen minutes ago, I was told that I was allowed to leave my ward under supervision to go and see my father. Apparently, they had to pull a few strings for this to happen because I wasn't really allowed. I had found Noah in the waiting room and apologised profusely. He told me not to be silly, though, and that he wasn't really mad. I was glad to say the least.

I had spoken to the nurse before I was allowed to come in, who told me that Dad was fighting for his life.

Fighting for his life.

That struck me hard and I resulted in floods of tears. How? How could he be fighting for his life? Only a few days ago, he was perfectly healthy! It sucked. It sucked real badly. It hurt even more to know that there was absolutely nothing I could do. I was even adding more stress and making it worse as I was sick, too.

"I'm sorry that this had to happen daddy," I whispered.

Noah's hand left mine. He left the room, making as little noise as possible. I sat down on the chair next to dad's bed and got comfy, knowing that I'd be staying there for as long as the nurses would let me. My brain went into overload and I kept thinking about how Dad might not make it.

I was working myself up.

I was working myself up so much so, that my breathing started to become unsteady. Fear was what I felt; I couldn't lose my dad. No. How could I, a sixteen year old girl with Acute Myeloid Leukaemia, cope with losing my father? How? If you know, then tell me, because I sure as hell would like to know.

Mind you, Amy lost her mother whilst she was battling cancer so maybe it was possible... But I didn't want it to be possible! Realising I was over thinking the whole situation I took in a deep breath and began speaking to my dad, hoping to calm myself a little.

"Daddy... I love you, you know? I really do. Please wake up, please. I don't know what to do with myself. I need you to hug me and tell me that everything would be alright, just like you did in London. Is it going to be alright? Are you going to be alright? I hope so. I really hope so, Daddy. The nurses pulled a few strings to get me here today, you know, because I was adamant about coming to see you. They weren't happy about it though," I pulled a face, knowing full well that he couldn't see what I was doing.

A few strings. Ha. How hard could it possibly be, to get one patient from one ward, down to see another patient in another ward? It sounded pretty simple to me. But then again, they are hospital staff and between you and me, hospital staff can be quite useless sometimes.

I sighed and leaned over, fixing a strand of dad's dark, brown hair, moving it out of his face. He didn't move, leading me to think that he was still asleep or unconscious or whatever his current state was.

It hurt to see dad like this. He's such a clever, well-respected man and he didn't deserve to be stuck in a hospital for any reason other than work. Why do bad things happen to good people? Dad's job is to help people just like me - a life-changing, eye-opening, rewarding job. So why is he being punished?