Vanquished (Cameron Dallas)

Chapter 45 - Gone

Cameron's POV

"Cameron, stop hyperventilating," Nash said for the millionth time.

"How about you shut the hell up!" I snapped back crossing my arms. I looked out the window of the cab and let out a sigh. For being a horrible day, the weather was surprising nice. The sun was shining brighter than usual and the temperature rose. I regretted bringing a jacket to the hospital.

"Nash, he's not happy right now, just be quiet." Carter sat between us; he was Switzerland. Nash would huff and be disappointed because I was huffing and disappointed. It was a chain of arguments.

I let my head rest on the window, in all honesty, I felt like shit. Compared to Amara, however, I was the healthiest human being on this earth. Every time her name rung in my mind I would shiver. I remembered the way her face looked so dead when I walked into the hotel room, and the way she felt fragile when I lifted her up.

I cleared my throat trying not to cry, being a man in this situation wasn't exactly worth trying for. This day was almost déjà vu. . .

Ten years ago (minus or plus a few months) this same exact thing happened. I remember talking to Amara all the time in class when we had arts and crafts hour. I envied her work, it was always perfect.

One day she didn't show up. I remembered how she would talk less and less each day before. Her body appeared thinner. Being a little kid, I just assumed she was coming down with a cold or the flu.

A month passed before she finally came back. Even then you could see her bones. I was eager to see her that hour of the day, but in the morning, the teacher declared we couldn't ask her why she was gone. I immediately lost hope.

The hour came, she still sat next to me as normal, but her work was imperfect. The lines drawn were not straight but crooked and broken. Her wrist would shake when she held the crayon. My jaw dropped in horror as she drew the picture.

Eventually her eyes made it to my face, my horrified face. She took note and slumped her shoulders, she knew I was concerned. Amara knew I couldn't help her, all I could do was pity. . .

I ran my hands through my hair, bit my lip, and tapped my foot. This drive to the hospital was the absolute worst. I felt bad for the cab driver, he had to hear all of the bickering in the back seat. 

I slid my hands on my thighs wiping the sweat that developed on my palms off. A deep breath escaped my lungs and my foot continued its beat.

I glanced around at the scenery. People walking the streets looking as happy as they can. I envied their happiness and smiles. One more glance and I saw the familiar blue square sign with an H plastered to it. My heart raced and my breathing rapidly increased.

"Here you go," the cab driver angrily said. I could sense the eye roll.

I immediately put my hand on the latch and opened the cab door. I jumped out without notice and started to run. The only thing I could think if was to run to emergency. Surely Amara would be there.

"Cameron!" Carter called. "We don't exactly have your adrenaline." I slowed down and waited for them to catch up. The longer they took the more impatient I became.

"Cam I'm sorry for what happened in the car-"

"Nash! Save it for later!" I cut his apology off. He looked disappointed, I had one objective on my mind, and it wasn't him. I ran not caring if they were there. My priorities were different and crucial.

I ended up at a desk. A small oak colored desk. I figured out why I hated hospitals, it had that peculiar smell and was plain white. Everything was white, it was blank with no color. "May I help you?" The lady asked with a tone. Her hair was in a bun and a pair of glasses dropped on the tip of her nose.