Chapter 91: Chapter 91

Chapter 91 Worthless

I awoke with a start when a gentle hand caressed my shoulder, resting there. "Huh, what?" I ask, looking around and squinting my puffy feeling eyes that are still heavy with exhaustion. My vision focuses on the nurse, who is standing next to me with a sympathetic look on her face.

My shoulders slump when I see a bed ridden Colton. So this wasn't all a dream, after all.

"I know you probably don't want to hear this, but you really should go home and rest. You look exhausted, and I know from experience that some real sleep in your own bed will make you feel better." The nurse tells me.

Confusion causes my eyebrows to knit together, not quite understanding what she's saying. She wants me to go home and rest in a tense situation like this? What if something happens in my absence?

"But I can't leave, what if something happens while I'm gone?" I mutter.

She sighs, taking a seat next to me and gazing at Colton. "Nothing will happen, I can assure you that I will keep an eye on him every waking moment. If something does happen, I will contact you immediately and no heavy decisions will be made without you being here, I promise."

I suck my bottom lip in between my teeth as I stroke Colton's hand softly. I could in fact use some good rest, and my bed does sound good right now, especially since I've been sleeping in this hard hospital chair that digs into my spine each time I lean back.

"A-are you sure? What if....what if h-his condition suddenly weakens and-"

"If something happens you won't miss a thing, I promise you." She says, looking me in the eyes with her caring, promising ones.

"Okay but I will be back early in the morning."

"And that's perfectly fine. I advise everyone to go home and rest. Sleep often times helps restore one's mental state that has been plummeted into a state of shock, and I can assure you that you'll feel better in the morning." She tells me.

I simply nod, taking a deep breath.

Then I go home to fight my own demons in the form of sleep.

* * *

"There was nothing more we could do, I'm sorry. He passed away in his sleep and by the time the doctors came, they couldn't do anything else. They had tried to restart his heart, but he slipped away." The nurse tells me.

My world stops, the rest of her words blurring, sounding like I was underwater and drowning. "N-no, you've got it all wrong," I laugh bitterly, "I can assure you that Colton is fine. Perfectly fine." It sounded like I was trying to convince myself.

But surely, they've got the wrong guy, right?

I try to push past the nurse, trying to show her that she indeed was mistaken. "His room is t-this way, let me show you." I say.

She stops me.

"No, Lily. Listen to me, I'm not mistaken, I'm so sorry. There's grief counselors located in the hospital-"

She rambles on and on about counselors but I'm not listening. I'm too busy sinking to my knees, shaking my head in denial. This can't be real. It's not real, it can't be. He was just here.

I bury my head into my hands, "You're lying! Stop lying to me, let me see him!" I scream at her, jumping to my feet and getting in her face. Suddenly, I feel like the mother who lost her child. My outburst reminds me much of the day I was slapped across the face in court by the mother as she screamed obscenities at me.

It was a painful, hopeless feeling. It felt dark and it felt like it ate away at my soul.

It felt like that I was on the receiving end.

"Why are you doing this to me? I can prove to you that Colton is alive and well, j-just.....please." I beg, hating myself for sounding so pitiful and pathetic. I've lost people before, I've known loss. Those pimps in human trafficking taught me well in that area by ripping away the women I had come to know as a friend.

I've seen the life drain from their eyes, I've seen them give up fighting and finally break after all the abuse. They went from hopeful to hopeless in a matter of weeks and it crushed not only them, but me, also.

Death was something I was all too familiar with, and yet.....I'm still not numb towards death. I can't be, not when it steals the ones I cling to in life.

I learned to love those women and girls that had suffered the same fate as I did.

But sometimes love feels like pain, and it made me start to believe that they were really just that same.

But with Colton, I couldn't fight off the feelings I was gaining towards him, and now here I am, yet again, standing here as yet another being I love is getting taken from me.

And it's the worst feeling in the world.

"Come, let me show you." The nurse says, sighing. With sad eyes, she takes my hand, leading me down the long hallways. She takes me in the direction I don't recognize, where the hospital fades into bleak, darker colors and where the temperature gets colder.

I shiver, my heart beating quickly in my chest. Why would they bring Colton down here? I think to myself. Why would they move him to another room?

My thoughts were based off of the denial I was facing, it was hard to swallow this truth that hangs before me.

The truth was, I knew. But at the same time, I refused to believe it. A part of me held on to the hope, that little sliver of light in the darkness. Hope was like the crescent moon for me, that struggled to glow in the midst of the darkness.

Industrial, large metal doors leads me into a room filled with gurneys with bodies covered by a thin, white sheet. I can see the outline of those who were dead under the blankets, and I shivered from the cold, fear, and eerie feeling that was creeping up my spine.

Their feet stick out from the end of the blanket, revealing a tag that is wound around their big toes as some sort of an identification tag.

Her feet slow towards a body. The body. No, no, no. My heart is thunderous in my chest and she looks at me with a sad look as she pulls back the sheet, revealing the face of the man I had grown to love. Cold, detached, lifeless his body lay. Eyes closed, dark lashes sweeping his cheeks. Scars. Imperfections. Tattoos. That and more served all the identification I needed.

This was Colton.

I scream, falling to my knees and sinking to the floor. My screams are loud and I cover my mouth, trying to muffle the sobs of disbelief and pain. Tears leak quickly from my eyes and suddenly, I find my world blurring around me.

Everything is becoming fuzzy and distorted. Wake up, wake up, wake up! My subconscious screams at myself, forcing me out of the nightmare I had to endure.

I shoot up from my bed, sobbing and pulling at my hair at the nightmare I just faced. It felt so real, too real. Everything is dark around me and I start to have a panic attack. I gasp for air, tears leaking from my cheeks as I bring my knees to my chest.

I try to follow the breathing exercises I have been taught, but nothing is working. My throat is closing up and my lungs burn from the little air I was receiving. Strangled sobs and cries leave my lips and I grip the covers of my bed tightly in my fists, trying to seek comfort.

Having a panic attack alone, with nobody to help me through it is the worst. Nobody to whisper comforting things to me, nobody to hold me or tell me which things are real and which things are from my imagination.

So I work through the panic alone, trying to take deep breaths and counting. Trying to bring my mind to a place of peace and trying to calm my raging heart. Sweat drenched my clothes and tumbled down my face, and slowly but surely, I managed to calm down.

And when I did calm down, I turned on my lamp and sobbed. Mentally, my mind was fucked and it felt like all the years of insecurity, worries, abuse, guilt, heartache, loneliness, and trauma were bubbling to the surface.

My mind hasn't been in the right place since the accident, and even though the mental asylum did help, it didn't completely cure me.

So I act out on pure emotion, snapping with rage and frustration, I am pushed to a breakdown. I grit my teeth, jumping up from the bed, ripping the covers off of the mattress and shredding the pillow cases. I scream and cry as I thrash my room, my fingers latch on to the blinds and easily tear them down.

I'm breathing harshly as I give myself over to the panic and symphony of emotions that drive me insane. I lash out against the walls, throwing myself at them and kicking and punching them until my knuckles split open and bleed. Through tears I throw the lamp against the wall, watching with satisfaction as it shatters.

The light of my room goes out, but light from the rising sun sufficed.

I walk over the glass shards of the lamp, but I don't care. I put holes in the walls with both of my fists until they were completely numb of pain. Sobbing and wailing like a crazed woman. Maybe I was a crazed woman.

"Worthless!"

"Weak!"

"Failure!"

"Slut!"

I sob as everyone's insults are thrown back at me. Only when their words grow silent, only when my room is completely breaking apart just as I am, do I find comfort in the corner of my bedroom and slide down the wall.

Only then am I truly calm in the midst of my darkness, in the midst of my struggles. Only then do I find comfort in the satisfying out pour of emotions that have finally been released, that have finally been shed from my mind.

I find peace with my face buried into my hands, alone on the cold, hard floor.

My cries cease, my exhaustion increasing ten fold. My heart beats with ease, my mind drawing to a close. For once, my mind isn't chatting. My mind isn't chatting about all my worries, regrets, and shame.

It's oddly....silent.

My eyes feel fat and heavy from crying, but oddly enough, I feel better. My heart doesn't feel as heavy anymore, my mind doesn't seem as dark anymore. It doesn't seem as scary anymore.

And I can finally find sleep in the midst of my thrashed room that is as broken as I am.