1. Souffrance
752 Words
***Avery***
June 18th, the clock ticked; 7:39 in the evening.
The air thick with reserve, the hallway, crowded and stagnant, the gentle breeze, blaring through the installed air conditioners that surrounded most of the facility's innards. The toxic space is filled with elements in accord. There came footsteps, rattles, squeaks and thumps. Footsteps, rattles, squeaks and thumps, noising up in unison.
I held my breath, letting out short increments of inhales and exhales; hoping it would help numb the apprehension, numb the pain.
Surrounded by nurses, doctors, and people, I gazed at my mother's unconscious body on the hospital stretcher. A tear fell from my eye; wishing that I could trade one prison for another, letting myself drown with the pain she's been dealing with for all the years she's had it.
"Ma, hold on, please. I don't want to lose you yet."
I whispered, cupping her warm hands and pressing them, hoping that it would help.
Her condition got worse; she always had a weak heart - this is worse than before. I'd feared that this day would come, the day that I would receive the news of her passing.
It was too early for me to mourn for another. Dad passed not long ago - three months from now - I couldn't crawl back if anything would happen to mom. My mother is the only one that I have left. My eyes are red from all the crying, my chest lumped from all of the tension.
"Sir, this is the farthest you can go."
I came to a stop as one of the nurses placed her palm on my shoulder.
I stood there not knowing what to do, what should I do? I couldn't think straight, thoughts echoed, my heart beating on and on.
Trying to recollect my thoughts, I sat on the nearest seats available. Looking beyond the memories I had with my father, I wondered where it went wrong. All of the sleepless nights, all of the laughter, all of the time we spent together. I don't want to lose him, as much as I don't want to lose my mother either.
I don't have that many people around me, I only have them both. The lump in my chest grew bigger, the weeping started, I couldn't breathe. My mother means a lot to me. Will I be able to survive the pain? I'm so scared. Holding on to my chest, I covered my eyes because it was too much.
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The clock turned two minutes before three in the morning, the hallway, quiet. There were no updates from anyone who I was with earlier. I never left my spot, crying, weeping, and staring towards the operation room.
As crowded as it was earlier, there are fewer people now. A number of strangers came up and tried to console me. Their words meant nothing to me, all I wanted was to know if my mother was safe.
Eyes swollen from all of the crying, I stared at the ceiling, laying my head on top of the chair. Tears streaming down my face, I shut them, momentarily.
I felt a cold tap on my clenched hands and woke as I felt myself dozing off. I opened my eyes, blurry from the dried-up tears and the somber hall. A bottle of cold water, the least that I could see.
"Here, at least drink before you decide to starve yourself to death."
A low yet calming voice spoke as I slowly grabbed the bottle of water.
I muttered a soft 'thank you' before grabbing the bottle and placing it on my lap. Indeed, my stomach was empty, but I'd rather wait than grab something to eat. I appreciate the kind gesture though, out of everyone who came up to me earlier, he was the only one that actually gave help, other than words.
"I'll get going then."
He replied, turning to the opposite side of the operating room, starting to walk away.
I frantically stood up, wanting to follow and thank him properly.
Knees, suddenly week, vision, doubled. Placing my hand against the wall, I leaned, mind swirling, breath shallow. I dropped the water bottle, 'thud,' along the pavement.
It was as if my body stopped functioning and all of the blood had run down to my shoes. The nausea crept from my insides to my head. Just the moment I fell in a heap to the floor, crumpling like a puppet released from its strings, the world went pitch-black.
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- Writer
