1. A Letter to Mother.

32.3K 914 213
                                              

CHAPTER ONE

There was nothing more River Kennedi hated, than visiting PearlGrove Memorial Hospital. Not for the sake of his loathing for medical facilities, but for his fear of losing that relative for good.
A place of dread and a reminder of tribulations faced in the past and present—a harbinger of death and illness.

River's low, tapered fade and neat, fixed curls glisten from the overhead white lights, pinching his caramel complexion. His eyes, like stone, blinks when  his chin rests against his hands atop the protective railing around the hospital bed. In that hospital bed, was his mother, Rose Kennedi— catatonic, still.
He watches as her body wrapped under drab white linen, hooked up to the life support machine. A dreadful and dire sight, even worse than it appeared weeks prior, when he last visited.

Her skin is pasty, almost like a corpse on ice, doused in perspiration. Only movement made by the various gauges and contraptions River couldn't name. Hooked up to her body, with the sole purpose of keeping her alive long enough to taste life once more—if ever.
The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor seeps into River's conceptions, agitating every fiber of his being, like a malignant ebb of nausea.

His mother was once so beautiful— Hair as brown as the purest honey, now just bland and filled with perspiration. Her gray eyes that was once so filled with life, was lost--never to be seen again. For one terrible night one year prior, she suffered a terrible fate tragic enough, to have almost brought her to her own demise.

River was the son, who saw to it that her hospital bills were being paid, even when things slowed down for him. Work was strenuous and overbearing, bills came as soon as one was managed to be paid and it was a never-ending cycle of adult life. Claiming his breath, to a point of almost drowning, yet it wasn't a miracle he survived it all for he didn't face it by himself after completing college.

"I don't want my last words to be, I hate you, Mom." River speaks, hoping that she could hear him, wishing that he could vent to her like he once did. "I should've been there for you." River opts to place a margin of blame on himself as he'd always felt he hadn't tried hard enough. Felt like he had failed her, and failed himself terribly by allowing her to wither away from existence.

"James and I are still on this break. I honestly believe it's time for us to face the music of reality or romance." River chuckles at his own delusion. "Finding his father has become a fight for his attention these days. Can't even figure out if I want to continue this, or end it before I bury myself in amorous torture." He grins again, clamoring for better words. "On top of that, I still haven't gotten the email. I would think that since they contacted me about the internship, they could at least let me down easy, but I'm confident I still have a fighting chance."

The door to the hospital room swings open with a squeak, and River turns to face a tall, dark figure entering with his draped coat over a pressed gray suit. Dr. Andi Hasan was a man of Arabian descent in his early thirties, with a fully bearded face, and a little on the muscular side— Clothes clinging to his defined frame like a damp, white t-shirt.

"River. How are you today?" The doctor asks with an annoyingly enthusiastic tone.

"Just as any other day, Dr. Hasan." River murmurs, motioning to his comatose mother with a nod of his head. He watches the man, almost scared of saying something that would give away his true mood. "Any progress?" River asks, but the frown on Dr. Hasan's face was enough confirmation for River.

"Just as any other day," A languid sigh follows after Dr. Hasan's words, that didn't quite instill the doom intended.

River chuckles, not amused, but annoyed at himself. "I could've told you that since I come in here every other day and ask the same dumb question. I'll just see myself out." River proclaims, brushing past Dr. Hasan, too deep in his own disgruntled thoughts, to notice that the man was trying to say something else.

4 | COLOR ME BLACK. | IN EDIT.Where stories live. Discover now