Eventually

29 | slowing

And it surprisingly did.

Penelope took me to the terrace and it was beautiful. The terrace at the hospital had a beautiful view. It was exactly as I remembered it to be, few nights ago. I rolled the wheels of the wheelchair on my own and drove myself to the edge where I could see the view, perfectly. Penelope watched me, with a smile lingering on her face.

I quickly rotating the wheelchair so that I faced Penelope. I asked her, "Can I be left alone for some time? Please."

"But—"

"Please, Penelope," I begged her. "I just want to be left to my own thoughts up here. Plus, it's the perfect place. The wind hitting me and the fresh vibes. Please?"

Penelope lingered her gaze on me for few seconds till she said, "I don't think it's safe up here." It was then when it hit me. Did she think I was suicidal?

I raised my eyebrows and then painfully laughed, "A dying girl would never choose to suicide." Guilt washed over Penelope and she quickly apologised and left me. Only to leave me all to my thoughts.

I mumbled, "The dying girl eventually dies."

I soon got up from my wheelchair and took support of the wall as I stood to see the horizon. It was breathtaking. Tall buildings soared upward as it kissed the sky while the small ones meekly stayed in their place, looking happy than ever.

I had read of various fictional stories in which the protagonist makes a deal with the Satan – the Devil. It always marvelled me. A deal with the devil was never a smart one. But at this point, weirdly, it seemed to make sense to me. For your own happiness, anyone was ready to do anything. That's just how selfish one is and there was absolutely nothing wrong in that, in my perspective at the moment.

Everything seemed right to me at this moment. After all, to a dying girl, she desperately needed everything to be right because it would definitely be a pity if her last few minutes were terribly wrong.

And so did I feel that. Because, in the end, I was no better than a dying girl.

"Elle?" I heard a voice resonate from behind me and I turned my head, though I didn't need to. I know that voice. I would know that voice any day at any moment. After all, it was his voice.

"Luke," I smiled as I tilted my head, slightly. He always made me genuinely happy.

"What are you doing up here?" He asked me, confused.

"Oh," I turned to look around at the view once again. "The view was pretty. I just had to."

No, that wasn't it. I wanted to drown myself in my own miseries, Luke. Help me.

"Elle, your voice croaked slightly," Luke pointed out. "Can I come over there?" Luke seemed almost careful with his words. Was I really that emotionally unstable?

"Wait, I'll come over there," I began but Luke was already walking towards me. I decided rather to walk him. Well, we could meet somewhere between, I chuckled over the thought.

However, as I began walking, it was then that it hit me that I was giving a wheelchair for a reason. Quick to collapse and with nothing to hold on, I waited for the sudden impact. 

"You're an idiot," Luke mumbled as he glared at me. His hands held my waist tightly as he sat on the ground. The impact was much lesser than expected. My legs just lay with no motion. My posture was definitely uncomfortable as Luke's clavicle hit my head, embracing me slightly in his warmth.

Luke quickly had me against him properly and I could finally see his face. He looked at me, worriedly. I laughed out loud until actual tears of sorrow bottled up within ended up rolling down my face. I was crying after that, clutching onto Luke's shirt.

"I don't want this. I don't want this. I don't want this. I don't want this. I don't want this. I don't want this —" I kept mumbling into Luke's shirt. Luke instead didn't respond. He just held onto me tighter and let me cry.

"I want to live, Luke. I want to live. I don't want to go just yet. I don't want to, when I just found my happiness. I want to stay. What did I ever do wrong to be ripped away?" I cried out, my voice barely audible. However, it was audible enough to the one I was crying to. Luke rather kissed me on my head and held me closer.

"You're not leaving me, love," Luke whispered as he kissed my head again. With the tremble in Luke's voice, I knew he was pained too.

"You don't have a say. None of us have," I mumbled.

"I'm not letting you go," Luke fought back with firm determination evident all over.

I let out a dry chuckle and looked at Luke, "How would you do that with death now?"

"I am not letting you go," Luke repeated firmly. "That's all I know." At those words, I clutched onto Luke like my life depended on him.

"I hate you," I mumbled into his shirt. "You make leaving so tough."

"I'm glad," he said as he kissed my forehead this time.

I sat up straighter with the help of Luke so as to face him. He looked at me intently wondering what I were to do. I seized the moment to lean in and kiss him slowly. I needed it at the moment. The proximity and intensity with him – I craved it.

Luke pulled me closer and my hands were tangled in his hair. However, what tingled within me or what took me over the moon wasn't the kiss. It was the cuddle after that. It was the way Luke held me after the kiss. He held me like I was everything. He held me like I was invaluable. And he held me like I was his.

We stayed like that for as long as I remember there. The wind blew and the birds chirped and honestly, nothing seemed more perfect than that moment.