The Broken [Lesbian Story]

||Chapter Twenty-Four||

Darcie had cried herself to sleep in my arms and had been sleeping for about an hour now. Her warm body against me as I listened to her slow evened breathing. Her head was resting on my chest -thankfully these chairs didn't have armrests- and her arm slung across my stomach. I looked down at her and smiled sadly; her golden tresses splayed across my chest, covering most of her face. Seeing Darcie crying like that broke my heart, to the point where I almost cried. I didn't know Simon that well, but I knew he was a great guy, he cared about his sister, he had gotten shot trying to save her, and now he was basically in a coma from a single bullet wound. It just wasn't fair.

I saw the stunning blonde in my arms stirring slightly. I thought she was going to wake up for a moment but she only nuzzled into my chest and squeezed and pulled on my shirt as if she was having a nightmare. Her face contorted in pain as if she were feeling it physically. Just then I saw a lone tear streaming down her fragile face and that's when I decided to wake her up, I couldn't have her sleeping through whatever she was dreaming about.

"Darcie," I called, gently shaking her, "Darcie wake up, you're having a nightmare."

As much as I enjoyed holding her, the pained look on her face was killing me. She stirred once again and shot up off my chest, struggling to compose herself and breathing rapidly. I reached over and placed my hand on her back, rubbing circles in an attempt to be comforting.

"It was just a dream Darce," I said softly, looking into her frightened blue eyes as they slowly calmed. She nodded in agreement with me as she looked around the hospital. Her eyes were red rimmed and slightly puffy, adding to her already disheveled appearance. The cut on her cheek was closed to a red line and the the small cut on the side on her head looked closed up too, along with the cut on her plump pink lip. I felt anger burn through me for a brief, very brief moment before I pushed it aside.

"Where's Celeste?" She asked, her voice slightly husky from sleep and maybe partly from crying her eyes out.

"She went home," I answered, eye contact wavering slightly. I didn't feel the need to elaborate on what happened between her and I. Even though it pained me to relive losing her again, it's under different circumstances now. I finally had closure after all these years.

"What happened? Is she alright?" My chest tightened at the question, guilt filling me up like a shot glass. Many things happened.
"I apologized to her and she forgave me," I reasoned, "about what she said about the love thing -"

"You don't need to report to me on your relationship Amelia," Darcie said dejectedly, "you aren't obligated to." She finished and if I'm not mistaken I saw a look of disappointment just behind glassy blue eyes.

I was about to say something to her, clarifying that I did indeed need to report to her about it but she abruptly got up and walked a few meters down the hall to where I noticed Doctor Peterson standing. He adjusted the glasses on his face as he listened to her speak. I'm not sure what she was saying or asking but each time she finished a sentence he curtly nodded. Finishing their conversation, Darcie walked back up to me, making eye contact, her blue orbs boring into me like needles in skin; which is fitting considering where we are.

I looked up at her with a soft gaze, trying to portray what I was feeling for her in my gaze as she spoke to me. "The doctor said we are allowed to see Simon now," she said quietly, her hands holding each other as if to keep herself grounded, "do you want to see him?" She asked.

I stood up immediately after that, "of course."

With that, we made our way to Simon's new room, which was in the ICU. I braced myself for the aria of emotions Darcie and I were about to face upon seeing a comatosed Simon. It would make the pain even more real, especially for Darcie, the reality of the situation finally sinking in would maybe be too much for her. And that pain that she would feel, would inevitably radiate off of her in waves and sink into the loins of my skin. She wouldn't know how her in pain affected me though; I was always better at hiding it. I hide it so I can be strong, be strong for Darcie in her moments of weakness. That's all I could see myself doing. I, in no way could possibly bring up my feelings for her now, not on when she was emotional raw and devastated. I certainly couldn't drop this bomb on her; certainly, it would be insensitive. Me, proclaiming my undying love for her when her brother was in a coma and him living or waking up was undetermined. It was certainly a fright to experience that and in this moment I was glad that I had no family to go through these series of unfortunate events.