Sequel • Worth Fighting For
It is commonly known and spoken that time heals all wounds.
But what they don't tell you is that those wounds remain, leaving behind a plastic film of torment and affliction with those subconscious memories nudging you l...
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There was always something rather unsettling to me about hospital waiting rooms.
The room was filled with dozens of people, all attempting to bide one's time until receiving what could be the best news of their lives, or most commonly, the worst.
I understand that there are those of us around, myself included, just simply waiting to be treated before returning to normality as if a hospital visit were as overlooked as a trip to the grocery store.
However, as my eyes scanned the room, I see those with hair lacking in places where it should grow, I see families holding hands if it were the last skin they would be allowed to touch, and I would see what I would only now comprehend as the most gut wrenching sight I could bare to witness. Women holding their enlarged stomachs with their significant other, a picture that would have once made me smile with shared joy if it weren't for the events of this evening.
And for that reason, I now loathed waiting rooms.
My eyes stared absent mindlessly to a small child and his parents sitting across from me. His mother searched the room, focusing on various objects within her view in order to somewhat distract herself with an unavailing purpose from what I was assuming to be the reason that they were here. The child held tightly to a small figurine, imitating its movements without a care in the world, the exact disposition that I yearned for at this moment.
I had inevitably envisioned Josh and I having children one day. There was always something about his interactions with his younger sister Beth that would concrete that very thought. He had a temper, like most people, but softened so easily around her presence with just the click of a finger.
However, the dream that would circle my mind became blurred with my oncoming tears as my gaze moved down to my injured hand, wrapped tightly with a kitchen towel in order to prevent further bleeding. Unfortunately, the pain in the wound had now subsided with growing too used to the physical feeling.
Was that going to happen to me without Josh? Would I succumb to the simple fact that I would always feel like this?
Empty.
I couldn't imagine ever moving forward in my life with someone else, only in growing used to the affliction of living without him.
"Savannah James, please make your way to Triage room four."
The automated voice sounded from the speakers surrounding the room, forcing my static body into movement for the first time in two hours. The last place I wanted to be right now was in the ER, but with the amateur inspection of my hand back at the apartment, I wasn't too imprudent to convince myself that a band aid would suffice.
I swiftly walked past the countless faces that all managed to blur into one. Most would think I was crying due to my injury, but they couldn't be any more incorrect. I wiped my cheeks hastily with the back of my sweatshirt sleeve before pushing open the door of my allocated room.
