Chapter song: I Love You by Billie Eilish
C H A P T E R T W E L V E
Clarity's POV
Trigger warning: mention of addiction
There was a point in my life when I realized my mom chose those white-circle drug pills over me.
And it was when she left me alone in the house for an entire week at the age of twelve. Each day that passed, I lost more and more hope that she would actually return to me. She had eventually.
I love my mom. I love her to death. But I hate the way she chooses to live her life.
She was in my life physically but never mentally.
I watched as she transformed from the happy and healthy woman that would watch Christmas movies with dad and me in the living room to a skinnier sadder version of herself. Her cheeks sunk in, and she was never energized to do anything. I had watched from the staircase once as she sat on the living room couch, inhaling that white dust stuff off the table. The dust made her nod off and act strange for hours, as if she was a zombie.
It's been about half a year since the first time I asked her to stop taking the stuff that makes her sick.
She didn't listen. Instead, she got angry that I even considered it to her.
"I miss the old you!" I dare yell at her, tears swelling my eyes as I watch her thread her fingers through her knotted head of hair. "Why am I not enough?" I question. "Those things you take are bad for you, and you do it anyway. Why would you rather slowly poison yourself than be here with me? I need you here, mom!"
That's the last thing I remember saying before her hand came down to my cheek.
The first time she ever hit me.
After that, everything was blurry, her yelling, screaming, and throwing clothes out of my closet towards my feet.
Next thing I knew, Jonah was taking me in. Which is the reason I feel like I'm in debt to him all the time.
I thought she would get better someday.
But as I now exit Olias' car that his friend Micheal picked me up in, the red and white lights illuminate the dark street with a bed being rolled out of my mother's house towards it. I don't think it'll ever be a possibility.
Hot tears flood my eyes instantly as the EMT people quickly race around her, pumping air into her mouth.
My eyes burn at the sight, cold rain meeting my face and mixing with my tears.
I start to run, "MOM?"
This can't be her end. I won't accept it. She can't be gone.
She didn't get better yet. She has to get better so I can tell her about Olias. So I can tell her I finally made a cool friend.
When she was healthy, she always tried to push me to make friends, although I've never been a social butterfly.
Getting to her rolling bed, I freeze when I see her pale wet face, then gasp. My jaw drops open as my heart seems to scoop out of my chest.
That's my mom?
"Ma'am! You need to step away while we get her help," An EMT woman says quickly.
I shake my head as her hands come to my shoulders to keep me back, "No! I want to be with mom. She's fine! She's perfectly fine—" my voice breaks off.
A finger grips my belt loop and I'm pulled around to see Olias standing in front of me. His hand goes to the back of my head.
"Clarity, I'm sorry," He whispers, bringing my head to his wet clothes, "I'm so sorry."
I begin to sob as I find enough strength to pull away from him, then push at his chest. My eyes meet his face, his dark hair drenched from the rain sticking to his forehead.
"Why didn't you listen to me?" The siren of the ambulance and the sound of raindrops hitting the ground echo through my head.
"You broke our pinky promise," My voice wavers.
His jaw tenses, "I thought this was the right thing. I couldn't just sit and do nothing after knowing what he does to you," He says. "Jonah doesn't deserve you, Clare."
"This isn't about Jonah. This is about my mom, Olias!" I can taste the salty tears at the corner of my mouth. Or is it the rain? I don't know. My heart feels like it's going the speed of a jackhammer.
Right now, I want to break his freaking pinky. But I won't, because then I'd feel even more terrible.
"If you would've just listened to me, you wouldn't have had to find her like that." If there's anyone I wanted my mom to meet more, it's Olias. An addict isn't the first impression I wanted him to have of her.
I look behind Olias at all his friends standing with their hands in their pockets, quietly watching the chaos on the sidelines.
Embarrassment floods over me.
Olias brows knit together, his jaw tensing. "Shouldn't you be happy that I found her—"
A soft gasp fills my lungs at his words. They came out so fast before he cut them off.
Happy?
Why on Earth should I be happy he found my unconscious mom?
My bottom lip begins to tremble as I take a step back from the person that's clearly not who I thought he was.
"That wasn't very nice," I whisper, hearing the sirens of the ambulance decrease in volume as it rides down the road, probably to the nearest hospital in the area.
Olias closes his eyes for a moment, his shoulders softening as he goes to reach for me.
I recoil away from him.
Hurt shatters across his expression.
"Clare, I didn't mean it to sound like that," He says. "You have to believe me."
I drop my head in disappointment and wipe my continuous stream of tears, disregarding his apology.
Too drained to even speak, my words come out uneven, "Can you just drive me to my mom?"
I'm not sure if she truly is... gone or not. But I choose to assume she's not. She can't be.
I look back up at him, a crooked frown twisting his pretty face. His dark wet hair sticks to his forehead and nearly covers his eyes. The water droplets that adventure down his face meet at the tip of his perfect chin before falling onto his jacket.
He sighs deeply through his nose before nodding, "Yeah, whatever you need."
I walk to his car behind him as he goes to talk to his friends, probably to say bye.
Once I'm in the passenger seat, I turn to see the boys walking away down the street as Olias walks toward me. The three of them turn their heads back and all do some sort of gesture to me as a see you later.
I manage to smile thinly with acknowledgment before dropping it.
Those are nice friends.
Olias steps into the car, turning the heater on.
He leans between the seats and grabs a large black zip-up sweater and hands it to me, "Here, you're not wearing a coat and it's freezing."
I haven't actually realized that my body is practically vibrating from the cold.
But instead, I shake my head, "I'm not cold." I want to be angry at him.
"You are," he says. "You're just mad at what I said, and I'm sorry. It came out shitty."
I blink at him, my head tilted.
He apologizes so easily, so sincerely. No fighting, no blaming, no anger, not shouting...
Just regretful glistening eyes staring back at me.
He blinks at me, nudging the sweater against my arm with questioning eyebrows raised.
My hands find themselves around the sweater and seconds later its warm material is wrapped around me. The coconut scent taking over my lungs.
***
The car ride to the hospital ride was silent. The raindrops hitting the metal of the car were the only sound.
The waiting room where the TV in the corner played Sponge Bob has become my only distraction from my mom's current situation. Olias sat in the chair beside me, his shoulder becoming my personal headrest for three hours straight.
I had thought I calmed down. And for a moment I had.
But my heart began to hammer at my chest as the doctor approached us.
He's a bald guy with a defined mustache, his face scrapped of all emotion as he walks with papers in his hand. He sort of looks like Steve Harvey. Though, his name tag reads Dr. Johnson.
I suck in my breath of anticipation, and I feel Olias presence beside me, causing a sense of reassurance to flood through me. Like having him near is all I need to not feel alone in all this shizz.
Dr. Johnson stops in front of me and sighs.
"Mrs. Red is breathing—"
An auditable sigh of relief leaves my throat.
"Did you hear that?!" I turn to Olias with a grin on my face and grip his elbow—
"Ms. Red, I'm afraid to tell you this, but she has also gone into a coma. For how long is unknown at the moment. If she were called in just a few minutes later she'd have passed away from lack of oxygen to the brain. "
My smile dropped as I processed his words. "What?"
I heard him clear as day. But pretending I didn't sound like the better option. Maybe he didn't say anything. Maybe I hallucinated it.
"I'm sorry," he says again, trashing my thoughts.
A coma? I don't know anyone who's been in an actual coma before. I've mostly ever seen them on tv and more times than not it never ends well.
I press my fingers on my cheek but there're no ears. They must've run out.
My voice is cowers as I point to the door behind the doc, "Is it— can I see her?"
"Of course." He turns to Olias who stands tensely, at my side. "Though only family."
Family only? That rule is stupid. I want Olias to come with me, I can't face her even, if she's not conscious, without him.
"But—"
"I'm her boyfriend," Olias low voice interrupts.
My eyes widen and my head snaps my neck back to look at him. Did he just...
He's staring at the doctor, snaking an arm around my waist to pull me closer.
The doctor nods, "Very Well." Then he proceeds to tell us my mom's room number while my mind replays what Olias just said.
As we walked down the hall, Olias dropped his arm, and I wrapped my arms around my stomach, feeling cold now without the presence of his arm. He doesn't seem different after calling himself my boyfriend. Maybe it was just his way of getting inside with me, and I'm just overthinking like a crazy person.
"Clare, right here," Olias stops me by the arm in front of room 203. the room the doctor said my mom is in.
I take a deep breath and nod. I can do this.
Turning the nod, I walk into the steady beep of a monitor machine. The walls are whiter than snow, bare and cold looking. I always wonder why they don't make adult rooms look as welcoming as children's rooms.
In the center of the room, my mom lays in the bed, tubs going through her nose and wires connected to her arm. I walk slowly towards her, noticing the color has come back to her face, but yet she's not here mentally.
I want to cry. I feel like I should be crying. But I can't. I can't seem to cry for her.
I stop at her bed and place my hand on her cold arm.
"Mom," I whisper, shaking her arm. She doesn't twitch or move. Besides, the faint rise and fall of her chest is the only indication that she truly is still alive. I hate seeing her like this. And as terrible as I know it is, I feel more disappointed that she let herself get this bad than relieved that my mother is alive.
I feel Olias hand touch mine and I jolt, like electricity traveled through my body from my fingers touching his.
Did he just shock me?
"Do you need anything? Water?" He questions.
My gaze shifts from him to my mom, then back to him before I nod. "Yeah, can we... I need you to distract me." I don't want to think about mom anymore. I don't want to be sad, I don't want to be punished. I just
His eyebrows knit together, his head twitching sideways. His jaw flexes before he speaks, "Distract you... how?"
"By leaving. Somewhere, anywhere," I clarify. Even though I thought I was pretty clear about what I meant by distracting me. I guess I wasn't.
A long sigh leaves him, his tense jaw loosening. He looks down at me with a weird look, then a small smile raises on his lips. There goes those dimples craving into his cheeks again. The urge to poke them eats at me.
"What's that face?" I ask him, stepping closer.
He shakes his head, "Nothing. But I think I know somewhere we can go to take your mind off things."
My eyebrows raise in curiosity and I step closer to him. "Where? Tell me."
"Nope," He takes a step back towards the exit of the hospital room, "Don't be so impatient, Clare. You just have to trust your fake boyfriend and wait and see," He smirks, the same smirk that seems to make a warmth flood my body. He raises his hand.
A flutter goes through my stomach as his fingers thread with mine. My eyes fixed on our hands that seemed to fit so perfectly together. His hands are big, but they aren't rough like Jonah's. They're long, but they aren't stiff like Jonah's. His hands are nothing like the hands I've been holding for five years.
I wonder if he's ever gotten a manicure before. And if he'd ever let me paint his nails. Considering his rather gray persona, I think pink could brighten him up since all he wears is black stuff.
He pulls me along by my hand towards the exit, and I take one last glance behind my shoulder at the hospital bed.
See you soon, Mom.
***
A cool breeze brushes through my hair as Olias opens the roof door of this tall random building.
I catch a glimpse of the clear night sky above his head, not a cloud in sight.
The car ride here from the hospital wasn't very long, but it was filled with questions about where he was taking me. He never answered me though, even when I tried pretending to be mad at him. He only snorted at me, which made me break my cover with a laugh.
"Olias, for the millionth time, where are you taking me? Is this the part where you reveal to me that you're an axe murderer or something? Is that why you won't say?"
He turns around in front of me, blocking me from stepping out onto the roof. A smile plays on his face as he brings his hands to my shoulders and turns me around so that my back presses against his front. I face the dim, very pretty staircase we just walked up.
I grin with anticipation, feeling his head fall beside mine. "You're the weirdest person I know. You know that, right?" He says.
He just called me weird.
And I'm not going to even argue with him. I am weird. Just a little.
"If you're starting to regret meeting me, I'm sorry, but it's too late to retract your friend card. Don't worry, though! I grow on people like mold. I'll be your favorite human in no time."
He huffs out a laugh, a sound that I find is pretty rare. His breath fans across my neck. I'm not sure why he's positioned us this way, nor do I really want to change a thing. There's something oddly comforting about having him so close.
His lips graze my skin causing me to gasp, and his voice drops an octave as he whispers into my ear, "You're already my favorite human, Clarity."