Flawed Pretense

Chapter 24

 A/N: This is dedicated to achilles_heel because she's super kind and gives the best compliments :) 

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I was drained. So horribly drained—I couldn’t do anything but sit on this uncomfortable chair and stare at the blank wall. I really hated hospitals. Almost nothing good came out of coming here.

My fault. My fault. My fault.

It was like a mantra in my head, the only thought that could be coherently formed for the past six hours. If only I would have paid attention to where I was going, I would have been able to get out of the way, instead of Ian sacrificing himself for me. If only I wasn’t so stupid, none of this would have happened. The doctors and nurses wouldn’t even let me into Ian’s room after they were done checking him, so I was restricted to the waiting room.

Mr. and Mrs. Ashford had rushed in as soon as they got the call about their son, and they looked absolutely grief-stricken—Mrs. Ashford had tears streaming down her face while her husband looked like someone punched him in the gut. Their demeanors completely broke me all over again, my cheeks getting their familiar wetness.

I seriously hated my tear ducts, and everything that had happened to me within the past week.

Ian’s mother had sobbed and clutched her husband to prevent her from falling to the ground the longer the doctor spoke of their son’s condition. It was terrible, something I didn’t want to witness. But I did, and my heart seemed to break along with Ian’s parents’. I had probably looked like an idiot as I sat there crying by myself and obviously eavesdropping on the conversation.

But then my heart seemed to shatter at the last bit of information the doctor had disclosed.

Ian Ashford, who was also dubbed as “Douche”, was in a coma.

A coma.

Sure, he was a douche but what did he deserve to fall into a coma? I couldn’t think of anything, and I bet no one could either. It just wasn’t fair.

As soon as the words left the doctor’s mouth, the floodgates seemed to open even more than they already were, and even Mr. Ashford allowed himself to cry. Together, the couple had stumbled their way towards their son’s room.

So here I was, three days later, still sitting in the same spot with the nurse and receptionists sending me sympathetic looks. For the past two days, Mr. and Mrs. Ashford passed by me with confusion etched across their faces, yet not stopping to ask who I was. Well that was until today.

“Excuse me?” A feminine voice asked beside me.

I jerked my head up, looked towards the source, and found Mrs. Ashford with worry clear in her features. I cleared my throat and awkwardly said, “Um, hi.”

“Are you—are you by any chance Emily?”

I paused, surprised. “Uh, yeah, I am.”

“My name is Kathryn—Ian talked about you. I’m sorry I haven’t properly introduced myself to you since—since . . .” She trailed off, not able to finish the sentence.

Feeling the need to do something, I warily covered her hand with my own. “It’s okay, Mrs. Ashford, I understand.”

Mrs. Ashford sniffled and nodded her head. “Thank you, but please just call me Kathryn,” She continued, “You’ve been here for the past three days, haven’t you?”