Chapter 25

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Warning: the things happening in this chapter are made up. I don't know what exactly happened to Brooks dad irl so please don't come at me in the comments for false info.

Brooklyns P.O.V.

I heard two knocks on my door. "Come in" I groaned.

"Brooky, are you allright?" my mum asked as she opened the door.

"I'm fine" I said blankly, not even bothered to sit up on my bed.

"Are you sure. I know you know what day it is. Do I need to-"

"I'm fine mum, I don't need you to baby me" I snapped.

My mum breathed in deeply. "All I wanted to say was, I'm going to visit the cemetery this afternoon. I was wondering if you wanted to..."

"Sit in a car for thirty minutes just to look at a piece of stone? No thank you I can mourn him right here" I mumbled.

"Okay then... If you need anything. Just tell me" my mum muttered as she closed the door again.

~two years ago~

I fidgeted with the hem of my jacket as I checked the time again. My mum was getting us something to drink. My other siblings left earlier and stayed at grandmas as the wait probably would've been boring for them.

But I refused to go. I wanted to be there when dad woke up again.

When we first found out he had cancer I was confident. He immediately got chemo and he still looked fine. Everything went as planned. He was going to make it.

Untill a few days ago, when he suddenly slipped into a coma. Every spare moment I had I came to the hospital. I had to be there when he woke up.

But so far, all I got was the quiet beeping and the whirring noise of the machines he was attached to.

Aside from the tubes and wires all around him he appeared peaceful. As if he was just sleeping. He was just in a deep state of sleep and he could wake up any second, that's what I kept telling myself.

"Are you still here? You must be tired" a doctor said as he came in to check a few things.

"I'm fine" I briefly said.

"Your fathers digits remained the same. He didn't get better, but he didn't get worse either" the doctor said.

I nodded.

"Where's your mother" he asked.

"Downstairs" I simply replied.

"He can make it" the doctor said.

"I know" I said. He was only saying it to comfort me, I knew that.

"I mean it. I will make sure your dad survives. I promise" the doctor said as he put a hand on my shoulder.

"Okay" I mumbled.

My mum returned and the doctor exchanged a few quiet words with her under his breath. Then he left with a small nod. My mother took a seat in the chair next to mine and handed me a cup of hot chocolate.

"How are you feeling" she asked.

"I'm fine" I said.

"It's okay to be worried" she whispered as she put an arm around me. "But your father is a strong man. He has a chance"

"How much?" I asked. "They gave you a percentage of his chance to survive. How much was it?" I asked.

My mother sighed and looked at the ground. "Thirty percent" she then muttered.

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