Miles and Alya: I've Dug Deep Enough

Chapter Two

  Rain poured endlessly throughout the sky as Alya slowly came out of the front door of her house. Slipping on her navy blue raincoat, she allowed herself to look up at the sky. Two words to describe the weather were dull and lifeless. What a coincidence, Alya thought miserably. That's how I'm feeling right now.

  Jogging down the front steps of her house, she briskly made her way towards her white traverse. Alya remembered her days as a child when she would run outside and jump in the puddles with glee. Happiness is a blessing, something that not everyone are born with. Who knew it could be easily taken away as well.

  Alya hopped into the driver's seat and cranked the engine. It was a brand new car that she had gotten about a week ago, before Miles had rejected her. It had been a nice treat for her, and she would always step inside and breathe in the smell of the new car. Now it seemed just like any other vehicle to her.

  Before she pulled of out her driveway, she turned on the radio to see if there were any good songs on. Anything that would enlighten her spirit to what it once was. At last, Alya found that the song, "Titanium," was playing. She quickly cranked up the volume and then listened to the words as she pulled out onto the road.

  🎶 I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose.. fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim.. fire away, fire away.

  You shoot me down, but I won't fall.. I am titanium! You shoot me down, but I won't fall.. I am titanium! 🎶

  Alya was on the road now, and almost to where she was supposed to be at. Still listening to the words of the song, she shook her head silently to herself. You shot me down, Miles. But I am not made of titanium.

   She didn't resent him, or Julie though. Alya wasn't mad. She was miserable. Because she would be the second choice. The leftover. If something went wrong, Alya was the backup plan.

The building came up in sight, and Alya turned on her blinker. She abruptly swerved to the right, barely missing a red chevy truck, and pulled into the parking lot. The hospital parking lot.

Stepping out of her traverse, Alya huddled against her raincoat in the stifling rain. The cold raindrops bore down on her skin, causing her to shiver. On all the days for her to have a scheduled appointment, today was that day.

She walked into the double doors of the hospital and breathed in a sigh of relief at the heat of the room. If she had stayed outside any longer, Alya would have gotten frostbite!

Up at the front to her left was a tall dark-haired lady with skin the color of hot cocoa. She looked up at her and smiled politely. "Name?" she asked as Alya walked up to the desk where she sat.

Alya swallowed nervously. "Alya? Alya Kenndrick?" she said to the lady, unable to hide her nervousness. Even after all the times she had been here, she was still freakishly scared of the place.

The woman raised her eyebrows once she had gotten done typing the name on the computer. "Oh, Alya Kenndrick. You're here for your scheduled chemotherapy. The doctors will be here in a few minutes, and before they arrive you can sit in the waiting room."

Alya nodded shyly and turned to sit in one of the blue hospital chairs. She had heard the sad stories of people sitting in the waiting room, anxious to hear the news about a loved one, only to hear that they had passed on.

As she was thinking about these things, Alya saw a familiar face sitting in the chairs. Miles! She had forgotten that he had to come here often for his kidney tests. But, why today? It seemed as if she had the worst of luck.

Alya walked silently, trying to keep out of his peripheral vision in case he recognized her. She sat down in the seat farthest in the corner and buried her face in a magazine in case he looked up and saw her.

She silently prayed that the announcer did not call her name first. It would fill the whole room, and then Miles would know that she was here. That was the last thing that she wanted right now.

Please don't call out my name, Alya prayed to herself. Please..

"Alya Kenndrick, to go straight to the office! Alya Kenndrick, straight to the office please!" the announcer called over the waiting room's intercom.

No! Alya screamed inwardly to herself as Miles's head snapped straight up to look at her. Gazing down at her feet, she put her magazine down and walked quickly to the office. She thought she heard Miles say, "Alya," but she ignored it. He would ask too many questions, some that Alya could not answer.

)><(

Alya felt dizzy and exhausted as she lay down on her bed. The chemotherapy for her breast cancer took a lot out of her. It was a wonder that she was still awake after the terrible side affects took hold.

She heard a Ding! ring out from her phone. Rolling over to her other side, Alya checked to see who it was. Actually, it was two texts. One from Bianca and one from Miles. She checked Bianca's first.

Bianca👯💙: Hey Alya. How are things going with the Da Boheme rehearsals?

Even though she and Bianca were not the "best" of friends, they had grown close after they both auditioned for Young Mimi. Once in a while Bianca would check in on Alya, and that would lift her spirits just a little bit.

Alya texted back, "They are going great. Thanks for asking!"

Now, for the text from Miles. Alya's hands were shaking as she read his text.

Miles😓: Why were you at the hospital, Alya? You never talk to me anymore.

Gee, I wonder why, Alya thought bitterly to herself, but she pushed the thought away. She quickly texted back an, "I'm fine," and plopped back on her bed. She felt utterly weak and broken.

At first, Alya was a beautiful doll. She was cared for, and loved. But then everyone began to hurt her, and break her.

And now, she was a broken doll.

)><(

October 19th, 2016
Written by: Alya Kenndrick

  Dear Diary,

    Things were not any easier than they were yesterday. The pain still hurts. But I wear a mask, and that ensures that no one can see my true emotions.

    Miles saw me at the hospital today. Now he is going to be suspicious. But I have to be as normal as possible. Pretend that everything is okay.

    When really, I'm dying inside. 

Sincerely,
Alya Kenndrick