Renewal [Emmett Cullen] (1)

[23- Losing]

I woke up to a gentle squeeze on my hand, followed by a quiet, musical voice, "Eleanor, how are you feeling?" My eyes opened to my hospital room. Carlisle was blocking the bright, white light, patiently awaiting my response.

"My chest hurts," I wheezed. It was a different type of pain, unfamiliar, as expected after my procedure.

"Good news, the procedure was a success. Your recovery should be much faster," he said while administering pain killers in the IV connected to my arm. That was a relief. He smiled and left the room. Mom and dad were both in the room, relieved that the procedure went well. I spent the rest of the day watching shows on Netflix, another extremely productive afternoon.

I woke up in the middle of the night, sweat dripping down my face. Instead of previously feeling like I was sucking in air from a straw, I felt like I was drowning. Occasionally I was above the surface, gasping for air as the waves pounded my body but most of the time I was under. Water was filling my lungs, making it impossible to breath. Emmett slammed his laptop lid down so forcefully the screen smashed.

"Carlisle!" He yelled, oblivious to the other sleeping patients, "El, stay with me!" The pain was unbearable, I was suffocating in my own body. It was worse than when I was 7 and went surfing for the first time. I vividly remember the waves pummelling me down to the ocean floor, like I was being repeatedly punched by a boxer.

I slipped in and out of consciousness, my eyes violently rolling backwards and forwards. Emmett couldn't hide the panic on his face, though Carlisle, an emergency physician, remained calm.

"El can you hear me?" His voice quivering with fear. I tried to respond but the words didn't come out. Although my brain was trying to speak, the words didn't get to my mouth.

I remembered a flurry of nurses rush in and attempt to stabilise my breathing. My ears were ringing but I could just about hear them talk about hooking me up to a ventilator. The rest was a blur. My body was slowly drifting into the abyss. I wanted nothing more than to just float away, away from the pain and suffering.

Time seemed to go by quickly when you couldn't distinguish between illusion and reality. The only thing I was certain of was the tube in my lungs that was breathing for me, the plastic rapidly moving air in and out of my lungs. Everything else felt like it was a dream, like I was standing in the corner and watching my limp body fight against the infection.

I laid quietly on the lumpy bed, my eyes closed. The beeping of the machines that surrounded the bed were the only indications of my heartbeat, my existence. I was certain that this was reality, but I couldn't move. It was like my brain was alive but my body was dead. I knew I didn't have much longer. When I was admitted to the hospital, I read articles about the theories of the sensation of dying. Probably not the best idea when you were fighting for your life but hope was in short supply. Quick deaths were quicker than falling asleep, a sharp sensation of pain and that was it. Slow deaths however, like mine, were a race against the disease and your body. My mind was active, but it couldn't keep fighting the disease. It took its toll on my body.

I knew my parents and Carlisle were sitting on the sofa in the corner of the room, though I couldn't see them. I remembered Carlisle saying that although I was somewhat stable, I may not have that much longer.

The infection was rapidly spreading to my brain and could cause permanent damage. He was preparing them for the worse.

I could just feel the movement of weight on the floor as my parents left the room, although I wasn't sure if I was imagining it.

"What do you want to do Emmett? Alice said she won't make it until tomorrow. Her immune system is too weak," Carlisle said. Emmett must have come in through the window. The voices got louder as they moved closer to me. I felt a soft touch on my arm but I couldn't reply.

"I can't let her die," Emmett's voice ached. I wanted to comfort him.

"Have you considered the ramifications?" Of what, I wanted to ask.

"Yes, I made her a promise. I have to keep it."