Holding On

Chapter 2

  A word about my parents.

They are rich and kind of famous. Bethany and Joseph Abbot. I guess you could say they neglect me, but I don't know.

My parents hardly ever talk to me, and when they do, it's scolding me for saying something stupid. I hate having to be with them, and every time I happen to be home at the same time as them, I immediately slink off to my room to read or study. I should probably love my parents, but it's pretty hard when they wish you don't exist. I could probably report them for neglect, but there's too much paperwork involved.

When I got home from school the first day of the nosebleed, they were drinking wine at the table. "Hello, Sharon. I see the nosebleed has stopped?" My mother asked, glaring at me. "Yes, I didn't know why it started."

"You had detention today?" My dad said expectantly. I nodded, not bothering to explain how bad my teacher was. Dad went on a long rant about how I shouldn't disappoint them like this, how I need to be a better student, blah, blah, blah.

I ignored him as I held my breath, trying to swallow the wave of nausea flowing over me. I felt... silent, was the only word to describe my feeling. Weak. I almost swayed as spots appeared in my vision, dancing in my eyes as I took a single, strangling breath, just trying to focus. Just trying to continue breathing.

"Sharon? Listen to your father," my mom rambled angrily, her champagne glass shaking slightly in her unsteady hands. Just 4:12, and she was already tipsy. Not a good sign. "Beth, put the glass down." My father's voice was cool and angry. Hot with anger. Cold with annoyance. Laced with hatred.

I shook my head, clearing the spots from my vision. "May I go to my room?" I asked, rubbing my temples. In response, my mother swayed out of the room, already stumbling. My dad's phone rang, and he answered it, annoyance ebbing into his voice.

Accepting my excusal, I ran up to my room, my breath hitching in my throat again. A sharp pain in my chest, then something warm trickles down my face. Another nosebleed. This time the blood stopped faster, but I was still concerned. I decided to sleep it off.

The same thing happened, week after week. I had begun to bruise. I wasn't doing anything to cause the bruises. They just appeared and got darker as the days passed. I was losing weight, too. I stepped on my bathroom scale, shivering as the coldness of the metal collided with my bare feet. I had lost 10 pounds in just 4 weeks. Not normal.

The nosebleeds got worse. My friends had nothing to say about it. Jenna, when I asked her, said, "Nosebleeds? Yeah, they're gross. I don't know why you have them. What am I, like, a doctor?" Anne had nothing to say, and neither did Mandy or Lei Jiang.

  I was talking to Mandy about some boy named Joseph. Well, more like I was listening to her talk about him. "I think he likes me! Do you think?" I mumbled a soft "mhm" as I leaned against the lockers. Mandy began talking about the last time they hung out. Suddenly, the familiar white spots blared in my vision. The pain was horrible, and I began to sway. I was dizzy and fatigued. I rubbed my head, praying for it to stop. "Sharon? Sharon, I asked you a question," Mandy said loudly, glaring at me. "Hm? Yeah, sure..."

My voice trailed off as the white slowly filtered out of my eyesight. I steadied myself against the locker, brushing away a few stray tears I didn't know I'd shed. "I asked you when you thought he'd ask me," Mandy spat out, eyes narrowed. "Sorry... I just, I have to go," I shivered, pulling my backpack up. Mandy let out an expletive as I shouldered my way into the crowd of people trying to get to class as the bell rang. I got shoved out of the way, sending me hard on my butt. Hot.

I eventually managed to get to my history class, sitting down in my assigned spot. Mr. Phillips glared at me as I sat. I began to focus on breathing. In, out. In, out. Even though I knew I was breathing normally, my head spun. The lights appeared, this time brighter than ever. They faded as soon as Mr. Phillips began talking. He pulled out a giant map of the world, announcing that we were going to study the continent of Africa. Immediately, some kids began whispering the lyrics of a well-known song.

"Who can name the countries of Africa?" Mr. Phillips asked, pulling out a baton he used to point at things(quite aggressively). His eyes landed on me. I was staring off into space, trying to stay conscious as I began to get dizzy. "Ms. Abbot. Surely we can name every country of Africa right here, since you seem to be so interested in the lesson. Stand up, and we'll see."

Kids all over the class snickered and whispered as I managed to pull myself up, using the desk for support. Mr. Phillips pointed to a larger country by the edge of the sea. Thankfully, I had done a project on it last year in history, so I could identify a lot of them. "That's Nigeria, sir."

I swayed, trying desperately to swallow down my dry throat. "Too easy. Next."

"Libya."
"South Sudan."
"Zimbabwe."
"Democratic Republic of the... of the..."

The spots reappeared. Not now. Please God, not now. My vision went white. "Democratic Republic of the what, Ms. Abbot?"

People all around the class were laughing. My hands were white from gripping the desk. "Come up here, Ms. Abbot. Do you need to see the map clearer?" He asked, obviously mocking me. I obliged, managing to step forward. "The Democratic Republic of what?"

I opened my mouth to speak. The laughter rang in my ears for a few seconds, then drifting in and out. It was like someone was playing white noise over my ears. All I could see was white and the fuzzy outline of my teacher. I blinked, beginning to stumble. I held my head, whispering, "Congo." Kids stopped laughing. Someone shouted, "I think she's gonna hurl!"

The last thing I heard was the frantic shout, "Someone call an ambulance!" before I fell to the ground and fainted, finally giving in to the ringing in my ears, weakness in my knees, and the whiteness of my vision.