Messages on a Coffee Cup

Chapter 33

I jolted out of my comatose state, my heart pumping way too fast to be normal. I gasped for air and grabbed the two handle bars of my hospital bed in shock, immediately feeling the sharp pang of an intravenous needle which resided in my center of my left arm. Everything hurt, literally every part of my body. I felt something on my head and slowly brought my hand up to it, only to feel the unfamiliar, rough texture of hospital gauze.

Fuck.

My vision was still extremely hazy but I managed to make out three worried faces: Cameron, Ethan, who was holding a cup of coffee, and my uncle, Darren. Ethan rushed to my side and took my hand, bringing it to his face and kissing it repeatedly. He then grabbed my face and kissed me like he hadn't seen me in years. My eyes studied his cut up face, wet with tears, and I ran my weak fingers along the gash that lined his forehead, still immensely confused.

"What happened?" I asked, my body aching in every muscle.

My ever so relevant question caused a look of loss to appear on Cameron's face, pursing his lips at first to contain whatever emotion he was holding back, but eventually bursting out into tears.

I breathed in deeply again at an attempt to provide my brain with the proper oxygenation in order to function, but my lungs fell short. My muscles weakened me back to a lying position in the hospital bed.

Finally, I saw why Cam was crying. His sobs weren't controllable; they kept on coming, like he had lost his entire world within the blink of an eye.

"Cam?" I asked with tears filling my eyes. "Cam, where's Kim?"

At the sound of her name, he collapsed and fell to his knees. He shrieked, alerting nearby nurses passing my shared ICU room. I looked at Ethan who nodded his head, confirming the absence of my best friend to be fatal.

"No. No, no, no, no."

I was crying, screaming actually. My body lurched with every screech and I began to taste blood. I refused to believe it. I couldn't, because, once again, the world had screwed me over. The universe took my best friend away from me, and I was brutally furious. Each scream sent my stomach closer and closer to up-heaving whatever hospital food I had been fed during my unconscious days until, finally, it gave in. I turned my weak head to the side and let it all out, the vomit burning the lining of my dry esophagus. I heard Ethan yelling for a nurse to come help me but didn't realize the severity of my situation. I wasn't regurgitating predigested food. I was vomiting blood. My lungs wheezed through the heaves and the nurse gave me a bucket to throw up in; I graciously accepted. After around four minutes, I was finally done, but a lot weaker to the point where I could barely lift my arm. My breathing worsened, causing me to motion to my chest and whisper, "I-I can't..." Thankfully, the nurse got my quiet message and attached me to a BiPAP machine.

It was too late. I could feel my eyes becoming heavy, my breaths becoming more and more shallow. Ethan saw me struggling and instantly tightened his grip on my hand, crying even more as he did so.

"Holland!" he shouted in despair. "Hol, I won't let you go like this. Not because of some fucking mentally deficient moose!"

My vision began to blur and the only thing I could concentrate on was continuing to breathe, for Ethan's sake.

"Holland, listen to me. I swear to God, if you leave me now, I will never forgive you!"

He kissed me on the forehead, his breaths unsteady and whispered six heartbreaking, not spaced words, "IstillloveyouHollandSummers."

"IstillloveyoutooEthanAbrams," I forced out of my cold and quivering lips, "Istillloveyoutoo. I'm so sorry."

His sobs worsened as my hand went limp.

When someone dies, the last of the five senses to disappear is hearing. As my world faded around me, Ethan's screams continued on:

"No! Please, no!"

Some people say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. I mean, I'm all about those little cliches that give you a false hope of what death may or may not be like, don't get me wrong; that's just not the truth.

The only thing that flashed before me was the face of an absolutely devestated brown hairred, blue eyed Ethan Abrams. Held back by nurses, he tried his best to make sure that my last glimpse of life wasn't totally depressing with some signature Abrams humour.

"Catch ya on the flip side," 

Thankfully, that image and cheesy punch line were just enough to keep my heart beating for a few more seconds.

Enough time for the nurses to begin my final resuscitation.

**HEY GUYS! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND DEDICATION TO MOACC! IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME THAT YOU GUYS CARE SO MUCH ABOUT MY WORK! SADLY, THIS IS THE END. IT HAS BEEN ONE HELLUVA RIDE CREATING THIS ALTERNATE UNIVERSE AND, TO ME, IT ALMOST FEELS AS IF ITS REAL. THANK YOU AGAIN! COMMENT YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE BOOK AS A WHOLE! I LOVE HEARING WHAT YOU GUYS THINK! I MIGHT RELEASE AN EPILOGUE OR SOMETHING IF ALK GOES WELL. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! GOODBYE, FICTIONAL LAND OF WESTFIELD.

-thebarnacletomyboat