"when death takes your hand, hold me with the other and promise to find me in every lifetime"

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To say the last couple days have been a collection of the worst moments of my life would be an understatement.

The waiting, the uncertainty, the sympathetic looks on the doctors' faces. The numbness everyone is burdened by, the helplessness we feel.

It is all torture.

Her surgery was successful, at least that's what the doctors said, but I think that's bullshit. If it was successful, she would be fine right now. She would be awake and at home, cuddled into my arms and talking to me about her new favourite book.

But no, she's still unconscious. She's still in a fucking coma.

I tried doing research on her condition last night. I wrote down the terms the doctors and nurses kept throwing around, and I pulled out my laptop and stayed up all night reading. But no matter how many articles I read and videos I watched, I'm still completely ignorant to the details. All I know is Delaney is not okay.

I couldn't process one bit of information, the medical explanation of it all is beyond me. I couldn't for the life of me focus on what I was trying to read. My brain just picked out keywords like a serious condition, permanent damage, and death. It filled me with a sense of fear and terror I didn't know was possible.

By now, news has gotten out, and extended family and friends are sending their regards.

There are about fifty bouquets of flowers flooding the room, all different kids, more than I can even name. Yet, not one bouquet is her favourite flower.

Snowdrops are nowhere to be seen.

But that was purposeful.

We don't know how long she's going to be in this room, unconscious, pale, so so still.

Flowers die.

None of us wanted to see snowdrops in her room, wilted, droopy, dead.

We saw the symbolism in that.

It felt menacing.

And all too real.

She should be awake, happy, and safe when snowdrops are in the room. She would want to be so she could appreciate them.

⋆✧⋆✧⋆

It's a new day and yet I'm living in the same horrible reality.

Something about today is different. There's an energy in the air, and I think we all feel it. It feels grave, ominous.

I don't know who started it or why they did, but everyone has been taking turns visiting Laney today. Sitting with her in her room, alone, and just talking to her.

And I hate it.

It feels like they're all saying goodbye.

As if everyone knows something I don't. Like they know this is our last chance with her and they're soaking it in.

It's bullshit.

But, as much as I want to avoid it and not go in, to pretend this isn't actually happening, I know I'd regret it. Because if everyone is right and something does happen, I would never forgive myself if I didn't take this opportunity. Especially because of what happened the last time I talked to her.

Everything I was worried about that night feels so insignificant and stupid now. Laney was right, not having her at all is way worse than facing difficulties with raising a family and balancing work. I panicked and I let my issues with my dad cloud my judgement.

If she wakes up from this, no, when she wakes up from this, I'm going to make it right.

It's now pretty late into the afternoon and everyone else has gone into Laney's room. The look on all their faces as they left never got less sickening.

Now, it's my turn and I don't know what to do.

I force my legs to move under me, carrying my body to the door and over to the chair beside her bed.

I've been in this room for what feels like a million times since she got put in here. Reading her books, stroking her hair, just watching over her.

I sleep upright in the chair next to her bed so I never leave her side, I eat in here instead of with everyone else in the cafeteria, and I just talk to her. I read, I fill her in on any new information, and I hold conversations with her as if she can actually hear it— trying my best not to focus on the fact that it's one-sided.

At first, the nurses implored me to take a break and get outside, they claimed staying in this room obsessing over her would destroy me. They got the hint pretty quickly that that wasn't an option for me, I wasn't leaving her side. So, they got used to me being there and now I'm on a first-name basis with all her regular nurses and doctors.

Yet, walking in and seeing her like this never gets better; this is truly the worst feeling in the world.

She has what seems like hundreds of tubes sticking out of her. She's using a breathing tube, there's an IV sticking out of her arm, and she's hooked up to a handful of machines.

I take a seat and just watch her.

Everything is so still and quiet, with the exception of the heart monitor's beeping. That, right now, is about the most comforting sound I can hear. Because if it's on, it means her heart is beating and she's still alive.

I clasp her hand in mine, and take a deep breath.

I clear my throat, willing myself not to cry yet, and start.

"Hi, love," I whisper.

"I miss you. Like crazy. And I'm so sorry. For everything that happened that night. I'm so fucking sorry."

I look down at her, hating that she looks so normal. Aside from the medical equipment, she just looks like she's sleeping. But she's not, and she isn't waking up.

It feels like some sick trick.

Suddenly I'm reminded of one of our last days together, before my trip, before the breakup, before her accident.

She had just finished reading a book as I got home, and she was in tears. I remember her talking about how it ended and now I feel like I'm in that exact situation.

Except our story is going to end differently.

I refuse to let this be our ending.

"I know this is the part of the book where the guy is supposed to let his girl go. But I'm not that strong and those guys are fucking idiots," I tell her.

"I know I'm supposed to say goodbye, tell you you can leave me, and kiss you one last time, but I refuse to do that. I refuse to let you go. To let your last memory of me be painful." My voice breaks at the thought of that night.

God, what I would do to go back and change everything.

"Hold on," I plead. "Please." I'm begging now. Tears falling down my cheeks.

"Fight. You're a fighter, Delaney." This girl has been through so much and she's the most resilient person I know. If anyone can fight this, it's her.

"I need you."

"I don't care if I'm being selfish right now. I don't care if this isn't the honourable thing to do. I don't care if every book you've ever read has said not to do this. But I refuse to live in a world without you in it. I promise you, I will never let you go again. Never."

"You were right, I am a coward. But if being a coward means you'll fight a little stronger and a little harder, then that's what I am. Now wake up, baby. So you can yell at me some more."

"I love you. So damn much."

I kiss her on the forehead, letting my lips linger on her skin for longer than I usually do. Savouring the moment we much as I can.

I swear I feel her move. Feel her hold my hand and tighten her grip.

But I think that was just what I wanted to feel.

And when the machines start beeping rapidly and a dozen doctors rush into the room, I know I imagined it.

"Sir, I need you to clear out of this room for me," a nurse orders.

I just mindlessly nod and follow in the direction she's pointing.

I walk out into the hallway, hear the door slam behind me, and wait anxiously with everyone else.

"The doctors know what they're doing, man," Mason assures me.

Daisy nods in agreement. "Yeah, she's going to be fine."

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Sorry for such a short chapter but I felt like it didn't need to be excessively long.

Question of the chapter: What's your favourite flower?

Please vote and comment!

Stay safe and healthy <3

(By the way.. I don't know if any of you guys were curious, but this is a snowdrop for anyone who didn't know already)