Facing Reality

42)"Hey, pigface, do you have a golf club?"

My teacher is aggravating, if she keeps bothering me I'm killing off characters

Thalia POV:

The monitor is the one thing that serves as a constant reminder that she is still alive, so I turn to stare at her pale face. She was hooked up to so many monitors that I wanted to cry. 

Sandro told me what hospital she was in, and after we left my office to help Alfonso get out the trunk, it took me a week just to come visit. I didn't want to see her like this; it was too much for me. It reminded me far too much of myself. 

How weak and naive I was 

I take her very cold and fragile hands in mine, "I'm sorry I couldn't help you sooner, Mother. I tried my best. I tried everything I could to protect you, but it wasn't enough. I'm sorry you've got a lousy daughter like me." I cry out. 

I look down as the tear falls on my clothes. I laugh as I aggressively wipe my eye "I have no idea where father is, and I need him right now. Mom, I'm crumbling and trying so hard not to revert to my old habits. Sandro has been helping me to get better, but when he is not around, I am alone in my head. I rely too much on him, and... I simply need you, mom. Please come back to me." I squeezed her hand once more. 

I've tried looking for my father, but he's nowhere to be found. I tried, and so did Sandro. It was irritating me because I needed him. I need him to reassure me that everything will be fine. I need my father, no matter how much he irritates me. 

I sigh and listen to the monitor's noise, exhaling when it begins to beat rapidly. The doctors rushed into the room, grabbing my shoulder. "Please wait outside, Ma'am." 

"Wait, what's going on?" With tears in my eyes and my hands grabbing the doctor's coat, I say. "Ma'am, we need you to stay back," they say as they call the guards. 

"No, I want to be here. What's wrong with her? I need my mother" I cried out as the security picked me up and dragged me out of there. I was beating him, but not with much power because I was crying. "Take your fucking hands off her before I put my hands on you," a deep voice says. 

I wasn't paying attention when the security man put me down. All I could think about was whether my mother was okay. I needed her to be all right. 

"What's wrong, Love?" Sandro takes my face and wipes away my tears. 

I shake my head and reach for his shirt "I'm ready to go home. Let's just go home, please." He nods, takes my hand in his, and we walk out. As he drove out of the hospital parking lot, I was sniffling. 

My thoughts were racing, and it didn't help that they kept returning to her. Her grin. Her scent. Her complexion. Her voice. Everything was killing me, and I was about to collapse. My subconscious was denying that my mother could die and that there was nothing I could do about it. 

We arrive at the house after a short, long journey, and I leave silently. I go into the house, passing everyone. 

I could hear the whispering, but I didn't care. I knocked on the door and waited for it to open. He opened the door, and I gave him a faint, scarcely visible smile, saying, "I know we haven't spent much time together, but could you just hold me, please?" 

"Of course," he says as he opens the door farther for me. I walk in and sit on the bed, fiddling with the corner of my shirt because I don't know what to do. " Are you okay?" he asks as he sits next to me. 

And that's when I start crying. I grab his shirt and wrap my arms around him, sobbing into his neck. "No, I'm not fine. I can't. It's too much. I-I" I say hiccupping. He grips me hard "It's okay, you're okay. She'll be just fine. Okay? Don't overthink things. Everything will be Okay."