Karma ||H.S||

Chapter 50

There will always be things in life that happen, that somehow bring you back to reality. Hits you so hard and wakes you up to realize just how short life is. Seeing Paisley so close to death, scared me awake. Karma getting me worse than I ever could have imagined. For every time I hurt someone, every time I said something that didn't have to come out of my mouth, or did something that made someone cry because I either didn't care at all, or I was trying to prove something to myself, this is what I get for all of that.

I've been sitting in the waiting room for what feels like days. It's been about twelve hours since the ambulance showed up. The paramedics stormed into the room and took her from my arms, to bring her back to life. Although she wasn't gone, I know now what it would feel like to completely lose her. Watching as they carried her to the bathroom and stuck a tube down her throat to wake her up enough to throw up the pills she took, into the bathtub, was by far the scariest, most gut-wrenching, hardest thing I've ever had to see.

She wasn't completely back or aware of anything when they took her to the ambulance on the stretcher, but she had thrown up enough of the pills, the paramedics were able to tell me she would make it. I had gotten to her in time. I followed them to the hospital and haven't been able to see her since I got here. I've asked the doctor not to tell her that I'm here when she wakes up, but to tell me when she's coherent enough for me to visit her, which I haven't heard yet.

This has been the longest and hardest night of my life. I know that nothing will ever be the same. I will never be the same. A reality check that I surely never wanted to have, but it was more real than I could even comprehend. I know that not all of this is my fault. I know that she's been through enough in her life, that everything adds up into this one big mess she probably didn't think she could ever get out of. But knowing I was part of the reason, even if it was just a small portion of it, knowing exactly how I treated her and talked to her just two days ago, makes me feel sick to my stomach.

I don't want to imagine that the last thing I could have ever said to her was that she never meant anything to me. I will thank God every day for the rest of my life, for not allowing her to die last night. Because if she did, I would never be able to live with myself, knowing she left this world not knowing the truth. As she wrote in her letter to me, she said she didn't want to leave thinking she was never what I wanted, because she wasn't strong enough for that. And she left, thinking exactly that, because I didn't want her to see that my heart was broken. It was broken because I thought lies were the truth, not wanting to trust who I should have, believing that people don't really change. That once you wrong someone, you will forever do just that. But I shouldn't have been so closed minded. I should have seen the bigger picture. I knew she was a different person now than she was in high school. I should have known that she didn't have it in her to play me. If her trust issues could have told me anything at all, it should have been that she was not only a different person than she used to be, but a better one. All in all, all I could really say for myself, is that I am selfish.

I'm hunched over in the chair I'm sitting in, elbows resting on my knees, staring at the same spot on the floor below me for God knows how long now. My eyes are burning from the florescent lights, from crying so much and the lack of sleep over the last forty-eight hours, I can't for the life of me even try to look anywhere but the ground, until someone's feet stand on the spot my eyes have been locked on.

"Harry—Harry." Paisley's Dad is bent down in front of the chair I'm sitting in, shaking my shoulder trying to get my attention. "Why don't you go back to the dorms and get some sleep? You look awful—Paisley's going to be fine."

"When did you get here?" I ask. "Did you see her?" I all of a sudden feel wide awake. I need to know how she's doing. No one will tell me anything.