Renewal [Emmett Cullen] (1)

[22- Complications]

Emmett stayed with me when my mom wasn't here, which was almost every day. He just sat there, watching me code or sleep. Sometimes he would read me the newspaper but it was disheartening listening about the world that felt so distant.

We occasionally had conversations but I was pretty drugged up and could hardly form coherent sentences, let alone carry a conversation. I was surprised he hadn't gotten bored and left.

I loved having him here. Even if we were doing our own thing, I felt content just knowing that he was around.

It must have been late, the hospital was eerily quiet. Aside from a few nurses monitoring patients, it was empty.

"Emmett," he looked at me immediately, quickly pausing the movie we were watching on his MacBook. His face was full of concern.

"Did I ever tell you how I found out you were a vampire?" I asked and his expression relaxed into a soft smile.

"Online research?"

"I lied," I paused, watching his changing expression, "I hacked into your computer and bank records. You should really use some stronger encryption. It took me less than a hour."

He stared at me in disbelief, "When you're recovered maybe you can do it for us!" We laughed.

"You need to hunt." I reached my hand up to his face, my sickly fingers traced his check bones. His irises were pitch-black, with dark bruise-like shadows under them.

He shook his head, "I'm not leaving you."

"Carlisle," I said, my voice just above its normal volume. He appeared instantly as if he had been there the entire time, "Can you please tell Emmett he needs to hunt?"

He smiled, a firm hand now resting on Emmett's shoulder, "I'll keep an eye on her."

"Call me if anything changes," Emmett insisted, pressing a soft kiss on my forehead before vanishing, leaving only a breeze behind. Carlisle stayed in the hospital almost every hour of every day, on Emmett's request. I felt bad for making him sacrifice time with Esme and family for me, someone who, in the grand scheme of things meant nothing to him.

Pneumonia itself wasn't that severe but coupled with existing conditions or a weakened immune system, like mine, it was deadly. Also, from the accident, my kidneys has been bruised, and although they were mostly healed, I was told by doctors that they never fully recovered to 100% health. This made me more susceptible to the infection.

The pneumococcal bacteria was considered invasive, as it invaded parts of the body that are normally free from germs. It started slowly, just in the lungs but quickly permeated the bloodstream, and spread to the rest of my body. If it did, I had almost no chance of surviving.

Aside from constantly checking my vitals and adjusting my dosage of antibiotics and painkillers, there wasn't much Carlisle could do for me. All I could do was hope the antibiotics and my immune system were enough to surmount a strong defence.

I wasn't ready to die. To die from an infection when I survived a serious back injury felt stupid. I couldn't let that happen.

A week after I had been admitted to the hospital, my condition had worsened drastically. I was given even stronger antibiotics. Carlisle hid his concern but unfortunately mom didn't have centuries of practice. I could hear her upset conversations with dad on the phone.

With each passing day, the bags under my eyes slowly started to resemble Emmett's. Waves of heat coursed through my blood, a cold sweat glistened on my face. My eyes sunken and skin sallow, everything ached, everything sagged. I felt like I was breathing through a straw. Carlisle gave me oxygen therapy more often, the gas mask making it harder to snack and drink. I missed snacking.

I hadn't really moved around in a couple days. The pain in my chest was unbearable when I was sitting upright. Emmett knew I was in pain, he could see it in my strained smile. He tried to help but there wasn't anything he could do. I was so fragile, so utterly human. I knew that if he could take my pain away he would.

It was Wednesday, almost my second week in hospital. Dad was coming home in a couple of days. It would be nice to see him again. Mom wasn't handling the stress as well without dad.

"In this x ray of Eleanor's chest, there seems to be a large abscess that has quickly formed. We need to drain it surgically," Carlisle said to mom and I, pointing to the white patch on the x ray of my lung he took 10 minutes ago. I hated going under anaesthesia but Carlisle said it would increase my chances of beating pneumonia once and for all, though at this point nothing seemed to be working.

Later that day, Carlisle prepped me for surgery. Emmett was standing my side, he was worried. Like me when he was concerned, a small crinkle forming between the furrows of his eyebrows.

"I'll see you when you wake up," he said, letting go of my bony hand as Carlisle pushed my bed to the operation theatre. As the anaesthesiologist administered the medication, Carlisle's voice became more faint. My eyes grew heavier and heavier, finally closing as the anaesthesia took effect. I couldn't remember anything after that.