Scoring a Goal [✔]

11 ♒️ room 456

After that, going to school seemed like a chore. The bags under my eyes had grown into dark crescent moons. I hadn't bothered to wash my hair or get dressed up ever since the incident. People stared at me as I passed them by, wondering what on earth had happened to me, probably thinking other harsh things as well. But I didn't care anymore. Thank god I only had a few weeks left in this hell hole.

I was so used to the word DYKE being scrawled on my locker that I completely disregarded it now. All the hateful words I was called, all the names... None of it seemed to matter.

I had been kicked out of my own house by a woman I thought would never desert me. She left me in the dust, wondering what I had done wrong, and after days of hurt, I had still never found a reason.

The school day was over now. I made my way to the parking lot where Alex stood on the side of her car. Every day after school, she had been there to pick me up and take me home. Home, which was now with her, somewhere I'd always been welcomed.

"Hey, babe. How ya feelin'?"

"Shitty," I grumbled under my breath, pulling my hood over my head. "Let's just go home."

The drive back to her apartment was filled with little sighs and tears pouring down my face. It had been a week since my mother sent me out, yet the wound was still fresh - still open and burning for the world to see. Somehow, anger took over the sadness, and I had developed somewhat of a hatred for my mother. How could you kick your only daughter out of your house and feel no remorse? No matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn't understand.

Alex saw how upset I was lately, especially today. She carried me into the house, and doing so made me cry more. She was always so sweet and caring- more than my mother ever was, apparently. She was the only thing in my life that had stayed- her and Amy, the only two people that continued to be stable in my life.

Once the door was open, I sat on the couch and turned on F.R.I.E.N.D.S., something my mother enjoyed to watch. As a kid, we would watch marathons together, me perched on her lap, cradling my head in her chest. Now here I was- no mother to hug, no mother to cry into. All I had was Alex, and despite how sad it was, it was also comforting.

She had just finished making me a bowl of cereal when the phone rang. Her voice sounded frantic and alarming, and I sat my cereal down and rushed by her side. Once she hung up, she looked at me, sadness filling her eyes.

"What happened? What's wrong?" I asked worriedly.

"It's your mom. She got into a car crash and is in the hospital. We have to go."

Just hearing those words, my heart sunk fifty feet into my chest. I pulled on my hoodie without turning off the TV, and headed towards the hospital with Alex.

It was raining hard, pellets of rain crashing on the windshield. She held my hand as she drove, trying to bring a sense of comfort over me, but even the feel of her own hand couldn't help. Tears poured silently down my face just thinking of my mom, of what happened to her.

When we pulled up to the hospital, we rushed to room 456, taking the nearest elevator which seemed to move at a speed of two miles per hour. I held on tight to Alex as we waited to reach the fourth level. Once we heard a ping, signaling our arrival, we quickly sped out of the elevator.

My eyes darted from room number to room number, searching endlessly for 456, which was a little hospital room pushed in the corner. I grabbed Alex's hand and rushed inside.

And there, in the bed, was my mother. She looked almost unrecognizable- her dirty blonde hair in a jumbled mess atop her head, blood pouring out of her wounds. There was a nurse beside her, dabbing the cuts with water to soak up the blood. She gave me a half smile, one that had no emotion in between its teeth.

"Oh, mom." I whispered, sitting in her creaky bed. Tears once again formed in my eyes, clouding all vision I had. I held her hand and, knowing she was unresponsive, cried into her chest. Alex stood beside me, rubbing a hand up and down my back, tears streaming down her red cheeks. She had only met my mother twice, and despite everything, had once been fond of her.

"I'll leave you two alone," the nurse said, heading out.

"Me too," Alex started. "If you need me, I'll be right outside." She gave me a small smile and a squeeze of the hand, then left me there alone with my dying mother.

I had just arrived, but I could already tell things weren't going to be good. The monitor that had an IV attached to it beeped softly, up and down, as if there was barely a pulse left in her. Her eyes were closed, but underneath her cut lids were glossy, blue eyes. Her hands were cold and bony, and I held them tightly, trying to give her all the life I possibly could from within me.

"Mom, please don't go. Please," I whispered. Despite my pleading, I could tell it was time for her to leave, for her dying imprisoned soul to leave this earth. Just as I kissed her hand, the monitor formed into a flat line. Nurses from all over flooded into the room like a swarm of bees as I cradled my mom into my chest and cried. I heaved and heaved, begging for her not to leave me, that life wouldn't be the same without her, but it was already too late.

She was gone.