EVE: A Short Unforgettable Love Story

Chapter Thirteen

Isabella Madden POV

It was the very last night I have seen Kellan. I heard from Liam that Kellan left town for college. I’m trying hard to stay in denial and stupid and desperate to think that he’ll still come back, that this were all just a dream. Because despite it all, despite everything that happened, despite this crashing pain, I’m still willing to forgive him. The old memories kept flashing back in my head, the moment when he said, he would never hurt me like what his father did to his mother. Foolish of me to still make excuses in my head that it wasn’t a lie, that he left to protect me, that maybe he’s just scared. But every day that I hope, and every day that he doesn’t show up shatters my heart even more. I waited, I hoped, but it’s been a month, maybe he wasn’t really coming back.

I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t let my father see how vulnerable I am after he was sent to the hospital and was diagnosed with an end-stage heart failure and has only numbered of days to live. When the doctor said it, I instantly froze and my chest dropped, while mom sobbed hard in my shoulders- I knew I had to be strong. Realizations of those moments I just ignored hit me- how my father suddenly talks and walk so slow, how his body started to look frail, how he slowly loses weight, how he slowly looks restless. It made me feel more devastated to see my father’s eyes with fear yet he still tried to smile at me. He knew it all along- that he’s ill-but he chose to not tell us. He’s been carrying and fighting this sickness by himself for so long.

We spent almost every day at the hospital and therapies. I have tucked somewhere deep inside my heart the pain I am feeling for Kellan-all the tears, the hollow ache, the nights I spent crying on my room, the unanswered questions, everything. I have to put my best mask, and act strong because my parents needed me more. Dad needed me more- I’m scared of losing him. I have never left his side- I just sat beside his bed holding his hand the entire time. I became paranoid every time he shifts like he’s in pain, and even during his sleep. I couldn’t bare seeing him suffocating, gasping out of air. I’m trying hard to look strong, but when I feel like my tears are slowly coming, I quietly sneaked out and silently sobbed gasping in to my hands so no one would hear me- and it’s damn much heavier than a loud cries.

One morning I sat beside him tracing my fingers on the lines on his palm-his hand thinner than I remember. Watching him asleep, breathing shallow. I remember my childhood moment with him, when I asked him for a bicycle and he looks anxious and hesitant. He said bicycles are dangerous for kids. But when he saw me smiling watching the kid from our neighbor riding his new bicycle, exactly in the next morning he bought me one. I was so happy. He taught me how to ride the bicycle. He made me even wear a tight helmet, double knee and elbow pads to protect me. He lifts my bicycle with his one arm-as if he was Superman-while he carries me on his other arm. He’s so strong back then. I asked him why he bought the bicycle after he said it’s dangerous. He said, it makes him happy to see me happy. So, even though I have hurt my knees riding my bicycle I just smile even though it hurts, because I just want him to be happy. Those memories hit me like ice, I clamped my mouth shut to keep me from making a sound, but I couldn’t stop my tears from flooding my face. I can’t let him wake up and see me like this. “I need you, dad. I still, need you.” I said in my lowest tone. He gives my hand a weak squeeze-like he can hear me on his sleep- and gently open his eye lids. “Dad?” I uttered. I watched him as he tried so hard to twitched a smile, and slowly brushed his thumb on my palm. His mouth is trying to say something, but it’s too slow, and weak. I moved my ears closer to the oxygen tube on his mouth. “ma…y. be.belle...” he said. I embraced him, and I just cried.

…

September 6,1982, I was wearing a black dress, frail, with burning red eyes standing in a mirror. Dad past the day after that morning. Mom approached me, weak, slightly gripping on my shoulders. “Your dad, doesn’t want you to look sad, sweetheart.” I just quietly nod. That day became the hardest day in my entire life. The day that we’re going to deliver my father on his grave. Every step that I took, sink my heart to the ground. Everything that day, feels dull, quiet, and dark. I felt crying but my eyes felt dried now. I am able to feel everything-pain, grief, anger, guilt, sadness, yearning, everything. But perhaps all the emotions overloaded inside, I just feel dead.

After that day, it’s harder to wake-up every morning, and to spend the entire quiet night crashing in agony. At home, everything that I see is the memories of my dad, and outside the memories of Kellan haunt me. I have lost a part of myself, and I don’t seem to find the old version of me-the old me who loves laughing, who talks so much, who smiles so much. But in the quietest moment, questions and what ifs still cuts through me. What if Kellan’s her? Maybe I wouldn’t feel alone fighting this. Why didn’t he come back? Why did he leave me? Does he know my dad’s gone? Do I still matter to him? Does he still love me?

I just sobbed in tears. I never imagine we’ll end like this.