Training the Team (Dougie Hamilton)

Absolutely Not Okay

Thursday, November 12

I wake up in the morning with puffy eyes and a heavy heart. My hospital shift starts in half an hour, so I pull on worn leggings, old sneakers, and a sweatshirt that I haven't worn in ages. I brush my hair out and put it in a braid, and don't bother applying makeup. I eat a small breakfast and then head for the hospital.

Bella's asleep when I get there, and I take over for my exhausted parents. "Mom, Dad, why don't you guys crash at my place? It's closer," I say, handing them the spare key to my apartment.

"Are you sure, Kylie?" Mom asks.

"I'm sure," I say, pressing the key into her hand.

She smiles at me, utterly worn down. "Thank you so much."

"Feel free to take showers, eat food, anything."

Mom nods as she leaves with Dad, who's acting like a zombie.

"Dad, there's coffee in one of the cabinets," I call to him, and he raises a hand in recognition.

I sigh and take my chair next to Bella, watching the instruments beep and reading their displays. She's essentially on life support right now because her immune system completely broke down 2 days ago. My sister is laying on the bed, her eyes closed in sleep, machines helping her breathe and pump her heart, the IV supplying medicine that prevents her body from completely attacking itself. Her skin is so, so pale, and her hair has lost all of its shininess. Her collarbones are protruding, her cheekbones sharp, her wrists bony. She looks like she's dead already, which makes my eyes sting just thinking about it.

Bella doesn't wake up until after noon, closer to one to be exact. She looks up at me, her hazel eyes still bright, and whispers, "Get Mom and Dad back here."

I bite my lip, my eyes welling up, but nod and call them. Mom picks up almost immediately, and all I have to say is, "She wants you here."

The line clicks off, and fifteen minutes later, my parents are here.

"I-I have something for each of you," Bella croaks, her skinny, bony hand pointing to a closed cardboard box next to her bed. I open it and find 4 journals inside, but the box could have held dozens.

"Take them out," Bella tells me, her voice still thin but stronger now.

I pull them out of the box, reading the names carefully printed on the front.

Mom, Dad, Mom & Dad, and Kylie.

"Take yours," Bella says.

I take mine, and hand the other three to Mom and Dad. They each take theirs, and we look at Bella.

"They're advice, insight, memories, requests, wishes, and more from me to you. But they're highly personal, so don't share them. It's a way to remember me when I'm gone, and to think about what I would have done or said, or what I would have advised."

"How many of these did you make?" I ask her, gently touching my name on the cover.

"A few dozen, but I won't say who got them."

"Oh, Bella," I say, genuinely touched. Tears fall over my cheeks, a few landing on my journal, but I wipe them off quickly.

"I want to talk to each of you personally," Bella says.

"Okay. Who do you want to go first?" Mom asks.

"You and Dad first, and then we'll go from there."

I take this as my cue to leave, and I exit the room, closing the door behind me. I lean against the wall, holding my journal in my hands, tears streaking down my face. I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the ground, my shoulders shaking as silent sobs wrack my body. I mourn for a long time, until it's my turn to talk to Bella, and then I pull myself up off the floor and go in to see my sister.