Unstable April

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Violet

The rest of April


The next days are painful and I've thought about telling Kate to spend her days next to Finch's bed herself.

Every day starts with sitting on a crutch with a warm cup of coffee to keep me awake. Of course I sit next to Finch's hospital bed.

Somewhere around noon I call my parents to give them an update.

After lunch, I go back to Finch's room with a new cup of coffee. I sit there all afternoon, holding Finch's hand.

At first this was bearable, but after a while Finch started to do worse.

On April 29 somewhere around one P.M. Finch's body starts to make all kinds of spastic movements. I step back, my crutch falls onto the ground.

I hear a monotone sounds coming from the heart monitor. At first I don't know what to do, but then I notice the red button next to Finch's bed. I hold it in until a doctor appears with two assistants and defibrillators.

One of the assistants walks over to me and asks me to leave the room. Before I walk away I see them taking away the blanket and Finch's shirt before placing the defibrillators onto Finch's chest. I stare, while I know I should walk away.

I watch as they try to help him. At first his heart doesn't response, but after the second try it starts beating again.

On April 30, Finch makes the spastic movements more often, but even though I've asked the doctors what they mean for a few times, I still don't know.

I hope that it means he's slowly waking up.

During lunch time I can't be in Finch's room, because the doctors need to do some things. So I call Kate to tell her today's going a bit better than yesterday. She tells me she and Finch's mother are going to visit this afternoon. This is the first time Miss Finch is joining Kate since Finch is lying in the hospital.

After Kate's visit, I go back to Finch's room. I sit down, take his hand and look at him.

His hair has grown long again. It's greasy and messy.

I can't wait to see his ocean blue eyes look at me again; I hope they'll be filled with life when they do.

His hand is soft, though cold. It's larger than mine and probably a lot stronger, but now it just weakly lies in my hand.

Even though I've been with him all this time, I miss Theodore Finch more than ever. 

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