{Hey guys, I uploaded an empty work for Finding Elliot so feel free to save it to your library, but please note that it is only blank. I'm still writing and wrapping up this story as the end for Saving Grace is near (meaning only a handful of chapters left) *sniff sniff* but don't worry, the story will continue in Finding Elliot! Yours Truly, Therese}
Chapter Forty-Seven
Falling…
All this time…
But no one will be there to catch me at the bottom…
No one…
I’m alone.
I’m really all alone.
~ Grace
~
I hate hospitals.
I despise hospitals.
I loathe hospitals.
Hospitals make me sick… ironic isn’t it.
For every circumstance that I have ever been in a hospital has never been for a good reason.
Cancer, death, depression, loss…
My sister, my parents, myself and now… Elliot…
Pang goes my heart.
I now sit on a poorly cushioned chair, in the dull waiting room, sparsely filled with people because it is only the early morning, I presume.
I have no idea how much time has passed… seconds, minutes, hours… I can’t be bothered keeping track anymore.
I can’t be bothered with anything anymore.
Perhaps this is all just a horrible nightmare. Perhaps this is all make-believe. Perhaps…
But I know. I know its reality. I know that this is in fact the harsh real-life I live in. I know that no matter what I think and try to believe, it will always be the truth that what I don’t want to be real is how it is.
But I still beg and beg that this is merely a sick twisted dream and I will eventually wake up to see Elliot right beside me, all safe and sound.
I want to get this idea in my head, I desperately do.
Despite all the pinches I have given myself, close to turning my arm black and blue… I know that this horror is real.
I’m awake.
But Elliot is not.
And it’s my fault. My own fault.
Pang goes my heart.
I look towards my right and see Mr Dallas hunched over in his seat, his hands in his hair and elbows pressed against his knees, staring at the yellow tiles below him.
He has already lost so much and now… he could be losing his son…
Pang goes my heart.
The seat between us is a small girl, oblivious to everything around her, fast asleep, somewhere in dreamland, imagining innocent fantasies.
She has no idea.
She was still sleeping when it happened and hasn’t woken up since being brought over from her warm bed to the hospital by her father upon hearing the news.
But when she wakes up, she’ll be waking up to a world where her older brother is on the verge of death.
The brother who she has loved all her life, admired and adored with all her little heart could handle.
Pang goes my heart.
I did this to them.
I did this to their family.
Despite the several times Mr Dallas has urged me that it was never my fault, I can’t bring myself to believe a single word he says.
Of course it is my fault.
Look who’s on the hospital bed and look who’s on their feet.
Pang goes my heart.
I thought I was experiencing pain just several hours before.
How foolish was I.
I was so selfish. No. I am selfish. I am absolutely selfish.
This is so much worse, this hurts even more.
…Grace, I’m in lov-…
“STOP!” I yell suddenly.
I stand up abruptly and cover my ears in an attempt to block out the memories and the painful flashbacks.
My outburst causes people to turn and look at me strangely; concerned, sympathetic, confused, pitying, these are what I see on the faces of those peering at me. They don’t get it.
They must think I’m insane. But I don’t care.
…I’m your idiot…
… God, I’m never letting you go now…
… But you’re perfect to me…
I can’t breathe. I’m gasping out for air, for some release. I’m drowning. I’m drowning in my ocean of regret, guilt and pain.
I can’t take it anymore.
My eyes sting from my acidic tears.
I don’t care that the people around me think I’m hysterical. I don’t care. I don’t care anymore.
I am hysterical, I am insane, I am pathetic and I am… depressed.
The nurses are looking alarmed. Mr Dallas stands up to settle me down.
But I can’t.
No one can help me, but only Elliot.
The only person that I want to comfort me right now is Elliot.
To tell me it’s going to be okay, to embrace me in his arms that are home, and to press his mouth on my forehead. He is home. But he could vanish at any moment now. He’s barely hanging on to life.
But he’s the only one who can stop me from breaking down and shattering.
Only him.
…Always here for you…
But he’s not here. He’s not here because of me.
I bolt.
Panicked voices follow me, calling my name.
Oh this situation feels so familiar… so familiar.
But it’s not Elliot who’s chasing me this time.
I turn a corner and my side slams painfully against the wall.
For a second it slows me down as I wince and rub my sore muscle.
But I keep going.
My vision is blurring and everything stings, but not as much as the agony in my heart.
…the world really is unfair and messed up isn’t it…
Oh Elliot it is… it will be especially without you…
I let out a frustrated cry and the voices are becoming more alarmed.
I see a door indicating the bathroom.
I just want alone time… that’s it that’s all I want. But I know that it’s more than that.
I push my legs harder into a sprint and push through the door.
Slam goes the door.
Click goes the lock.
Luckily, there is no one else in here, making it most convenient for me.
The people outside are slamming against the door, urging me to open up and come out.
It’s going to be okay, they say, everything will be okay. Will they stop lying to me… Those people don’t get it.
… Grace, open the door…
I feel a singeing burning in my gut and I hold my sides. I highly doubt that Elliot is anywhere near capable of coming to fetch me out, as much as I wish it was him out there.
…I’m here; I’ll help you fight your demons…
But he’s not here.
I feel dizzy now and I feel a burning sensation coming to my throat.
I run to the sink and empty my stomach.
I cough and choke and cough in a horrible cycle until my insides clench and my jaw becomes sore.
I stare at my reflection.
Who am I?
The face that stares back looks so foreign to me.
There are dark circles under my eyes and my skin is a revolting, bleached colour.
…It’s the real deal that counts…
But Elliot, haven’t you seen, the real deal is atrocious, inside and out.
Pang goes my heart.
Memories are filling me, they are tipping over the edge and soon to make me explode.
I have to put an end to this.
I know that countless times I promised I wouldn’t and I promised to Elliot too, but it’s pointless now.
I need release, I need to end my suffering.
I’m selfish, I’m pathetic, I’m weak.
I raise my fist, my hand that is still slightly crusted from Elliot’s blood. The hand that held his head up just as his eyes began to shut close and the distant sirens began to blare closer, just few hours before.
Those fresh memories sting most, and relieving them is just like slicing open fresh wounds.
But it was also the hand that he held to his heart, the hand that he brought to his lips, the hand that he squeezed to reassure all was to be fine, the hand that wiped his tears too and the hand that competed in ridiculous thumb wars with him, the hand that he held while we read peacefully together on rainy afternoons, the hand that was used to hold his specially prepared drinks of milk and honey, the hand that he drew invisible patterns with and the hand that belonged right with his own…
But it was also the hand that failed to reach to him in time before he collided with the vehicle.
The reflection of my absurd tattoo is visible and it stands out especially on the sickly skin of my wrist.
…I never asked about your tattoo…
This is it.
No more.
…Alright?...
Smash goes the mirror.
The shards fall onto the sink and onto the tiled floor. It makes a shattering sound and the voices outside become louder, more urgent and panicked.
The glass remains are stained red and my hand is throbbing now.
The memory of the sight of Elliot’s blood on the road will forever haunt me. So much blood…
My legs fall under me with a painful crash.
I shakily reach for a single, jagged piece of fractured glass.
I tilt it in my trembling hand, retracting the light unto the dirty walls of the restroom.
…you promised you wouldn’t, you promised…
I’m sorry Elliot.
I let you down again Elliot, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.