(Okay, if I don't get any feedback I am officially gonna stop writing and posting this story on here. !! )Comment. Vote. Enjoy. :)
[[Don't be harsh, this is the first book-type thing I've ever tried to write, so, yeah:/]]
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CHAPTER ONE
"What the hell is WRONG with him?" I yelled at the top of my lungs. Okay, I realized pretty quickly that yelling like that in the middle of a hospital waiting room was probably not the smartest (or politest) thing to do. But if you were in my place you'd understand. I was so scared, I didn't know what to think. He was just a kid, not even an adult. My age. He didn't deserve to die. I KNEW something had to be done about this, but there was just one problem. I didn't know WHAT. I didn't know what they were doing to him now, what they were saying to him, if they were lying to him just like my mom was lying to me right now. Lying and saying that everything was going to be all right and it will be all worked out in a few. I'd forget this. Move on. Blah blah blah. I wasn't even listening. No point in doing so.
No point, because I already knew the truth. He was probably going to die, and I would NEVER be able to forget this. I wouldn't be able to move on, I'd probably never get a boyfriend again, and I'd spend my 70th birthday all alone with my twenty cats. Maybe a little exaggeration, because I'm allergic to cats, but it probably wouldn't matter anyways.
Then I heard some of what Mom was saying to me, just barely, though. "It's okay, darlin', Kailynn, it's all gonna be all right. Just you wait. The doctors are gonna come out and tell you it's all right and he's all right and everything's all right." Yeah, right mom. Way to get someone's hopes up. I didn't even think she believed that. Hell, I knew she didn't believe that because I she WAS lying. Because when she lies she was won't look me in the eyes. And at the moment she was looking down at the floor, so her fake-blond hair would cover her eyes (that hade fake blue contacts in them, by the way, unlike me because I like my light brown eyes), so I couldn't see the lie in them. But I could hear it in her voice.
NO, I'M NOT! I'M NOT EVER GOING TO BE ALL RIGHT, NOT WITHOUT ETHAN! I wanted to scream at her, but what was the use? She wasn't going to listen. She just wanted to make everything better, help me. But she couldn't. Nothing could help me now, unless some miraculous thing happened and Ethan would come walking out of the emergency room and tell me that he's not going to die. I knew that wouldn't happen, so I didn't torture myself in hoping.
"Okay, Mom. I have to go to the bathroom," I lied. I didn't want to sit here in the waiting room with my parents anymore. I couldn't stand being with people right now. I really couldn't stand anything anymore. I wiped my eyes and tried to look semi-normal while I walked to the bathroom.
When I got to the bathroom I checked in all the stalls, making sure no one was in there with me. I didn't need some one who is in this hospital for a reason that I probably don't want to know listening to me crying like a baby and babbling to myself.
I looked around me. Ugh. I hate hospitals, everything all super-clean and white and empty. Why do they make them like this, is it supposed to make people feel better or something? Because it sure didn't make me feel any better, it made me feel small and insignificant. I don't know why, but being surrounded by whiteness makes anything that's not white seem very small. I looked down at myself and just now noticed that my dark purple tee-shirt was wet. Just then I realized how HARD I was crying back there. Jeez, now all the memories came rushing back to me.
WHY? Why did Ethan have to be walking in the middle of the road at night? Stupid boy, he knew there was a sidewalk. Why didn't he see that car coming? Why didn't the car freaking see him and stop? Why didn't the ambulance get there earlier? Why? Why? Why? I don't know why I was asking myself these questions, because I honestly didn't know the answers. The guy/girl driving the car was probably drunk, but what did I know? I guess it was asking myself these questions because I had nothing else to think about, and I couldn't think about what he'd said to me just before leaving for his house tonight. I couldn't. I wouldn't. Not now, not here. Not while all this was happening, not when I didn't know what was happening to Ethan in the other room. But I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't keep the thoughts from flooding into my mind.
He'd said that he loved me, for the first time. He'd told me that no matter what happened he would always be there for me.
It's ironic, isn't it? I mean, right after he told me he's always going to be there, he gets hit by a car and ends up in the emergency room where the doctors tell me they're doing all they can, but they don't know if he'll make it. And that just means that he won't make it, with my luck, or, more accurately, my non-luck. And I didn't even get the chance to say "I love you, too." Oh, man, I should have said it, I should have told him that I love him so much, and that I always will. But, NO, my parents just HAD to come up into my room at that exact moment and tell Ethan that he had to go home because it was getting late and it's a school night.
I laughed, but it didn't sound like a real laugh, it sounded like one of those really, REALLY preppy girls in the movies who try to flirt with guys. I was crying so hard that there were red splotches all over my pale skin. It was weird, though, how I was so pale even though it the beginning of June here in Westland, Michigan. My Mom always told me that I should go out and get a tan, but I don't really like tans. I never did. Well, I did, up until about 5th grade when I started reading vampire books. But, that doesn't really matter, and I like pale skin. It's just me. I guess.
Dad always told me it wasn't normal, and that none of the guys would ever like me unless I got a tan. But, I showed him when I brought Ethan home that one night, nine months ago in two weeks. My Dad was shocked speechless. I remembered that day just like it was yerterday, though it's been a long time. Sigh. It might never make it to nine months, I thought, because he might die today. Sniff.
I remember coming through the door and Mom and Dad were sitting on the couch. I remember that Mom's favorite cooking show was on. I bet Mom forced Dad to sit with her and watch it. I almost laughed while remembering. I remember saying, "Uh, hey Mom, Dad. I'm home." Then I walked into the house and I saw Dad jump up when he saw Ethan, and his face turned red as if he were embarrassed about watching a cooking show and actually sitting there, looking as if he was enjoying it. "Uh . . . yeah, Dad, this is Ethan Good." I could feel my face burning and I looked away. I guess Dad got the picture, and realized that he must be the guy that I was talking about on the phone with Elizabeth last night. He obviously knew he was my boyfriend, too. But maybe that was only because we were holding hands. I self-consciously slipped my hand out of Ethan's and wiped my jeans because they were sweating so much.
"Uh, hey Mr. Cross. Mrs. Cross," Ethan had said, nodding to both of them as he said each of their names. He was always the gentlemen. I've knew him since kindergarten and he's always had a crush on me, but I never really talked to him much until we were in seventh grade. He always opened doors for me and wouldn't talk like the other guys and use slang. I don't get how other girls could think that attractive . . . I mean, "Yo dawg" and "'Sup, home-skilla-biscuit?" don't even sound cool, at all. But barely any people say that, I just like exaggerating. He got teased and picked on all the time for that, but he didn't care, because I liked him, well as much as a little kid could. Ah, heck, I love him so much! Oh, jeez, I should remember to stick to the topic before I get all the way the Jupiter (You know, THAT far off topic. You know what, if you don't get it, don't bother because it doesn't really matter.).
"Oh, uh . . . Hey, Ethan. I'm Mike Cross. Uh, I mean, I'm Michael. . . . Cross. Um . . . I'm Michael Cross. Yeah," said Dad. Wow. Can you say embarrassing? Even though it's not as bad as when he picked me up from school in a dress and high heels. Long story, don't ask. Ethan laughed. His laugh was so funny that you had to laugh, too. That was one of the things that I loved most about him. His laugh. His hair was second and his eyes were third. His hair because, well, because it was gorgeous. Dark, dark brown and meduim-length and just plain gorgeous. His eyes because they were this electric green color that just made me melt, and it usually takes a lot to make me ... uh, melt. (?)
With a shock I realized that I was thinking about him in a past-tense, as if he were already gone. Oh, God. No, I can't do that. Not yet. He's still alive, he's still alive, he's still alive, I kept telling myself even though I didn't REALLY know that. But I had to hope, I HAD to. Okay, back to his laugh. Yeah, I love it. Some of the other things I love about him is that he's very handsome (and I mean VERY, haha), and his kindness. He's always been nicer than all the other guys at my school, and I guess that's why I picked him to go out with. Well, I didn't literally PICK him, he just came to me. Sort of. I don't really know how to explain it. Other guys have asked me out before, but I've never really LIKED any of them. But when Ethan asked me out, it just clicked, and I knew he was the right guy to be with. We even made a plan that we would go off to college together and get married and have a dog named Buscuit and two children. In SEVENTH grade. But now I'm seventeen and he's here in the hospital dying and I don't know what I'm going to do if he really DID die. I don't know if I could live without him, and I know that sounds really cheesy, like Romeo and Juliet where when the guy dies the girl just has to die along with him. But, really, I seriously don't know what I could do with out him. 'You could always get another boyfriend', a sinister voice in the back of my head whispered. 'NO!' I scolded. If I try to get a new boyfriend, I'll always be thinking about how Ethan would be so much better. And that just wouldn't be fair. Not fair at all.
"Why?" I whispered to my reflection in the mirror. I wiped the remaining tear off of my face and I promised myself that I would try my very hardest not to cry and stay strong. (Key word: TRY.) Then I heard a knock on the door and I thought it was just a random person waiting there having to use the bathroom while I was in here going over my life without Ethan. . . . Before I heard Mom's voice. "Honey? Are you all right? You in there?" Oh, jeesh, I look like crap, I thought. "Oh, yeah, sorry, Mom. I'll be out in a second," I said quietly, but loud enough so she could hear me.
I blew my nose with some tissue (that were, of course, white). Then I looked into my purse to get out some cover-up and smeared some under my eyes and so Mom wouldn't know how bad I was crying in there. Then I fixed my dark brown hair into a ponytail because it hasn't been brushed since I heard what happened to Ethan. Which wasn't that long ago, but a lot of happened, and, trust me, it looked like crap. Like, major major crap. Then I straightened my back and walked out of the bathroom.
"Hey, Mom," I whispered.
"Hey, Lynn, honey, we should go home now," Mom whispered back.
"But WHY!" I said a little too loudly, and a couple people turned to look at me.
Ah, great, just what I need, a whole room of people staring at me while I look like crap and might burst into tears any second. But what creeped me out the most is that there was this one guy, he was very pale with golden eyes, who looked about twenty, and VERY handsome stared at me with a different kind of expression than the others. He looked more, I don't know, concerned with a little spark of something I can't explain. Curiousity? That's about the closest I can get.
"Shhh." Mom put a finger over her mouth, and some people looked away. The pale man kept staring.
"Sorry," I muttered. Now no one except Pale-Face was looking at me. Which didn't make me feel a whole lot better. There was just something about the way he looked . . . The was he was . . . looking at me. . . .
"We have to leave. It's getting real late, and you've got school tomorrow, hun."
"Do I have to go?" I whined. I didn't really want to go to school tomorrow and have to be bombarded with people asking how Ethan was, especially if he . . . died . . . and they haven't heard the news yet. Oh, God, I really don't want to go.
"Oh, I suppose not. But only because it's nearly two o'clock now."
Was it really two? Wow, I guess time really does go by when someone's dying. Even though the real saying is "when you're having fun," but I don't think I was having fun in the hospital with my boyfriend in the emergency room with tire tracks over his chest. Ah, man, I had to think about that and have a mental picture of Ethan with tire tracks on his chest. I felt about ready to throw-up. "Oh, I didn't know it was THAT late. Uh, okay. Then, I guess we'll go home . . ." I babbled because I knew if I stopped talking I'd probably puke.
"Yeah, honey. Let's go. I'll get your stuff, you just go out to the car. Mike's already waiting," Mom said while walking me towards the door. I looked once back at the door that would lead to the emergency room, and was tempted to run back there and push past all the nurses who were going to tell me I can't go back there and tell Ethan that I love him and always will. But, of course, I didn't, I was too much of a coward to see Ethan lying in the hospital bed with bandages all over him. And he was unconcious, he had to be. I just couldn't do it. It was bad enough hearing the doctors and nurses' description of how badly Ethan was hurt and how much needed to be done. Ooooh, man, I really need to stop thinking.
"Jenna, come on." I came back to reality and noticed that Mom was trying to push me out the door.
"Oh, okay. Sorry," I said and looked once back at the pale man who was STILL staring and me, then walked out into the night. I felt numb in a way because I knew I couldn't think about Ethan anymore or I'd start to cry and if I started to cry then I didn't know if I'd be able to stop and I couldn't let Dad see me like that, I just couldn't. So, no more thinking. None. Zippo. Zilch. Zapparooni. Wait, that makes no sen . . . nevermind.
I walked dazedly to the car and got in. Dad probably said something to me about it's going to be okay and he's all right, and so on and so forth, et cetera. I just tuned it all out because I didn't want to hear it any more. Every one should know by now that telling me it's going to be okay does not make anything okay. It didn't do any good, it was to no ones benifit!
I just kept staring out the window into the sky. Is that where Ethan is going to go when he's gone? I thought, 'Heaven'? I made the mistake of thinking about Ethan a little too long and I felt one hot tear drop trickle down my face and onto my shirt. I quickly wiped it away and closed my eyes for a minute. Nothing, nothing, think of nothing. Don't think at all, nothing, I kept telling myself.
I don't remember how long I waited there for Mom to come. It could have been two minutes, and it could have been two hours, but sooner or later I remember her getting in and putting the car into gear. I remembered her turning on the radio, to try to cheer me up, I suppose, but I recognized the song and told her to turn it off. It was a love song, and I just plain out couldn't listen to that right then.
Before I knew it we were pulling into the drive way and my parents were getting out. Everything here seemed so normal. My light upstairs was even on. My front porch. In a way, that made me feel better because I knew not everything was sad and the world would still go on without Ethan and such. You get it, right? I don't know how to explain it. I was glad that everything seemed exactly the same as it did when I left, so maybe, just maybe (with no chance at all), I could forget for one, maybe two, minutes so I could find some peace. Not likely. Oh, jeez. Kailynn, STOP thinking, this instance.
"G'night," Mom and Dad called from the bottom of the stairs when I got up to my room. They didn't even seemed to have changed from Ethan being in the hospital. It's like they don't care, I thought. But they do care. They have to care, they took me to the hospital to see him, I reassured myself.
I closed my door behind me when I went into my room and changed into my pajamas. I couldn't help but think of Ethan, though. He was basically the only reason I kept on going, why I got up every morning to go to schoool. Why I was happy when I went to bed at night. But now it was different, because he was gone. I didn't know that he was for sure gone, but I just had a feeling that he was, if not already, going to be dead.
"NO. No, I'm not going to cry, I've cried enough already," I told myself. So I didn't cry.
I don't know how long I could have stood like that, just concentration, trying not to cry. After a while I thought that I should take a good hot shower, to try to take my mind of things . . . Actually, to take my mind off life, specifically Ethan's life.
I walked very weirdly to the bathroom, like I'd forgotten how to walk normally. When I got into the bathroom I tried not to let myself think about things that have happened today. And once I got into the shower I couldn't tell if I was crying or if it was just the water soaking my face, but I bet I was crying.
After I'd thought that enough time had passed for my shower and that I could just get out and go straight to sleep, I stepped out of the shower. "I'm stupid," I said to myself. I'm so out of it. I didn't know why, but I put my pajamas on BEFORE I got into the shower, but then took them off to get into the shower, just so I could put them back on when I got out. Ethan's accident must really have shaken me up, I thought. Oh, man! I had to stop thinking, I HAD to. If I start to think about one thing, it'll lead to another thing, and sooner or later I'll be thinking about some really deep shiz that'll probably have me rolling on the ground having a hissy-fit about me wanting to be with . . . with him . . . again. So, no more thinking. Just keep on walking to my room. (♫Just keep moving, just keep moving, just keep moving, moving, moving. What do we do? We move.♫) You have to make it to the room. Once your there, you just lay down and go to sleep. Just go to sleep. And NO DREAMING. I kept babbling to myself so I couldn't think about anything else.
Please no dreams. No nightmares. Nothing. Please don't let me dream, please, please, please! I sent up a silent prayer to whoever might be able to hear me. I turned out my lights when I got into the room and stumbled across my room to my bed. After I layed down and pulled the covers over my numb body I just thought about not thinking about anything and eventually, though I don't know how long it took, I guess I fell into something you could call sleeping. Though it wasn't REALLY sleeping because I wasn't really at peace.
If I did dream, I don't remember any of it.
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[[Well, that's the first chapter. Hope at least some people enjoyed it. I know it's depressing and stuff, but there's no other way to start this story off that's in my head. Hopefully after the first few chapters, it won't be this sad and so much crying, if I ever get that far! :P Thanks for reading!!! <3]]
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