Project Weston

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L Í T O S T

[Czech] » regret and remorse and repentance, a state of agony and torment; or sorry said to be "created by the sudden sight of one's misery."

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People often assumed, blue was the most beautiful eye color. Perhaps it was the way they reminded one of the beautiful stretching oceans; the way they held depth that seemed enough to be drowned into that made it the most desirable eye color. I hated the color blue, that's the color that destroyed me.

However, until today, I had truly forgotten what made me love the color in the first place. Weston.

Morning's in the hospital were like no other, the open curtains let in the golden warmth of the London sky that radiated a dose of happiness in the dull room. The scent of coffee always lingered, with the heart beat monitor that's the only thing making me seem human.

The doctor says he's making progress but every time I seem to question that when it's the same result I'm getting every day silence. It killed me to see him with a casted arm, stitches across his lower jaw, bruises in every shape and form.

I remember the talk my mom had with me when the doctor said he was in a coma for the first time, it's ok to fall apart, it's ok to feel vulnerable. Somehow I feel like I'm letting myself down, Weston, down. I need to stay strong, for him.

I know he can hear me when I speak but part of me thinks I'm speaking to a brick wall that could never emit the same emotion I let out. Sighing I reach over for my Carmel frappe I picked up from the coffee store this morning.

The door opens to Nancy who has the same hopeful look on her face for the past month, she sits down next to me smiling, "Any knew updates?" I shook my head, my eyes never leaving Weston.

Nancy sighed rubbing her templates before looking back at her son. It's been hard on all of us these past month, more so, Nancy. I over heard the conversation between the doctor and her about taking him off life support, in other words, pull the plug.

She hasn't told me anything about it but she knows, she saw it on my face when I threw up in the bathroom crying hysterically. Of course, I waited for her to own up to it and say it but that never happened and right now I wanted an answer.

"Are you really going to pull the plug on Weston?" I broke the silence, my attention now was solely on Nancy.

She briskly shook her head, "no, never, but Greg wants too, he doesn't believe he'll ever get better. After all, it's been a month Artemis."

"You can't give up on Weston, he'll get better, I know it." I look back at Weston and at Nancy, "Artemis, I know it's been hard for you these past month, but you have to let — "

I got up from my chair and walked off to the window looking at the ongoing traffic. "No. I'm not letting go, Nancy if Weston — " I cut myself off catching my words with my eyes watering a bit, "if Weston dies I'll have nobody." Turning around I walk back to the hospital bed staring at the eyelids of Weston's hoping that they'll just open even though I know it's a lose cause.