(U asked for it and here it is RoxyPuppyLove)
Breathe. Count to ten. Repeat.
Ignore the red light above the door of the emergency room, ignore the beeping coming from inside. Just Breathe. Count to Ten. Repeat.
It was then that the door of the emergency room opened. The doctor entered the corridor. My heart was pounding, my breath was stolen. I stared at him with undivided attention, dreading each and every word he could say. He hung his head down and shook his head.
Breathe…Count to ten…but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. All the control went out the window. The tears came raining down like a thunderstorm. Numerous, countless tears just streamed down my face for endless hours.
Cry. Wail. Repeat.
After so many hours of crying that I lost count, I found myself sitting on the floor in the hospital corridor. My hands were clutching my knees close to my chest.
I looked up from the floor and was caught looking into the eyes of a boy. From my tear induced blindness, I could see that he was about my age. He looked like a red-headed mushroom to my tired eyes. I wanted to smile, but I couldn’t. I rubbed the remnants of the tears out of my eyes and stared at my observer.
He was standing right in front of me. His red hair were wild and tangled. His gray eyes were focused on me. His mouth was still, unmoving. He blinked.
I wasn’t sure why he was staring at a crying girl but who could blame him, I doubt there were any other things worth watching at a hospital. He slowly walked towards me and sat beside me on the floor. Okay, maybe he wanted to be my floor buddy. I did not have a problem with that but he did something he shouldn’t have: he spoke.
“Hi” he said, softly. It was barely above a whisper and I might have missed it, had the hospital not been dead silent. “Hey” I said, unsure what else I could say.
“I know that it is not good to intrude but I felt like you could use some company” he said. “Okay” I replied, dumbfounded.
“If you don’t mind can you tell me what happened?” He asked. He was just being polite, asking the most obvious question.
“I…my mother passed away. She was the only family I had” I replied, politely.
“What happened?” He asked, politely.
“She…she…cancer took her” I said, politely.
He remained silent. Politely.
It was a mandatory silence. After enough time had passed, he said “You know this isn’t my first time here”.
I knew he was trying to change the topic but trying to hide the elephant in the room with a curtain does not make it invisible. I couldn’t get rid of my pain but I was somewhat relived to be distracted from it.
“I am a regular here actually. I am a patient” he said. I dreaded asking him what was wrong with him. It was not a polite question after all. Thankfully, he spoke without prompting.
