Delicate

Chapter 2

Picture of Will

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William's P.O.V.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Evans but there is nothing more we can do at this stage for William." Dr. Mason says sympathetically, his hands clasped in front of him on his desk.

I blink automatically to clear the blurry image of his face before my brain reminds me that it won't make a difference.

I didn't have to try so hard to make out mother's expression, because I could picture that in my mind with worrying ease.

Her light, green eyes would be filled with tears. She would, of course, let the tears build to the point where they were just about to spill over before dabbing at them with her napkin. The tears would never topple over, because mother didn't believe in waterproof makeup and therefore, could not afford to spoil her own.
Her lips would we wobbling in an uncanny fashion, her wrinkles showing more with her distorted features. Through those tear-filled eyes, she would tell a story of a thousand years worth of pain, a fabricated story with pain that she somehow channeled in a single moment.

So as she sat sobbing in the chair beside me, I knew exactly what she looked like without being able to see it entirely. I didn't even need to pull myself close to her to confirm it.

"N-No." Mother argues her choked sobs the only sound in the room beside the ticking of the wall-clock on the right side of the office. The one which hung next to an abstract canvas of art I couldn't comprehend even if I could tell the lines apart. "No. He can't be."

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"I can be and I am," I say dismissively, forcing myself not to roll my eyes when she turns her head towards me. "I'm blind."

"William!" She scolds as if I'd just sold my soul to the devil and fucked him while I was at it. At that, I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes.

I follow the ticks in my mind as the hands to the clock continues to track time, the instrument completely undisturbed. I try to match my heartbeat to the rhythmic ticking, trying to keep myself stable.

"Sight challenged." Dr.Mason inserts earnestly, acting like a desperate voice of reason between the two of us.

Dr.Mason was my eighth doctor and incredibly out of his depths, giving the same speech I'd heard seven times before. Just in a different fashion.

"You have not loss all of your eyesight William and there are no signs of your condition worsening from this point." He finishes gently as if he wasn't careful I'd break.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I wouldn't.

Silence sits between us, my mother's soft sobs now sniffles as she clutches her handbag for support. As if the fucking handbag would make all her problems go away.

"Many others would do anything to have even a fraction of their vision back William." He continues and I frown glancing in his direction. I couldn't see his expression very well but I could make out how close his eyebrows were. "You are very lucky."

I slip my focus from the clock and to my doctor. Sitting up in the chair as a singular emotion slipped through a small crack in me.

Annoyance.

"Don't." I grind through my clenched teeth, jaws tightly bound like my body. My nails desperately sinking into the leather of the armrest for support. For stability. "Please don't do that. Don't tell me I'm lucky to lose only a fraction of my eyesight. Don't do that shit."