Kat233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ58yaep41q2
July 3, 2005
233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd27J6clvJc
*
Same day
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After stopping at the nurses' station for directions, a short, dark haired nurse was given the task of leading us back to Ben's room. It consists of her walking to the end of the hall and pointing, while grumbling the entire way about youngsters not understanding basic hospital etiquette. She also expresses her annoyance with people who think they own the place just because they're rich.
I'm pretty sure the last one isn't directed at me though.
Neither guy seem to notice her complaints, so I do my best to ignore them as well. All I care about is Ben.
Please let him be okay.
Reaching Ben's room took less time than I thought. Crap. I'm not ready for this. I slow my pace, trying to plan my exit strategy.
I'm not ready. 233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4pNAodu75L
I'm not ready. 233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSWFA8Z5rYB
I'm so not ready.
Cole's arm tightens around my shoulders, as he senses my hesitation, but he doesn't stop walking or release me. He doesn't let me run away.
I'm sure later I will thank him for this, but right now... well, right now, I just want to run until my legs fall off.
I take a deep breath as Cole urges me through the door.
As I step towards Ben's bed, I'm immediately reminded of standing next to my mom's hospital bed, waiting for her life to slip away. I feel my heart pounding erratically in my chest as I relive the worst experience of my life.
I hardly recognize the frail body lying in front of me, I've never seen someone so strong look so weak, so fragile. The monitors beep and groan, straining to provide life. I've never been so grateful for a machine before.
Working up my courage, I walk over to the chair that has been positioned at the head of the bed. I don't want to think about the reason behind that. I don't want to think about who might have moved it there, who else might be suffering.
Right now I want to be selfish, I just want to focus on my own pain. I can't handle anyone else's right now.
I want to focus on what this loss will mean to me, the future we will miss out on.
Backing up to sit, I don't dare look away, for fear I might miss the slightest movement. I nearly miss the chair and land awkwardly on the arm rest. I try not to react, knowing the pain I feel is insignificant compared to the suffering taking place in front of me.
I hear the doctor's voice in my head, on a loop. "There's a 3% chance." Is that all? It's not much more hope than winning the lottery.
I'm only allowed three percent of hope? Is that really all? Three seems so small, so insignificant.
How can I dare to think about a future, a world with the person I love in it with only three percent?
I grab the cold hand lying in front of me, pulling it to my face. It used to hold so much warmth, but now...
I can't even finish that thought. When did life become so hard? I can't imagine the end... I just can't.
As I press a kiss to the lifeless hand, I pray for a miracle. It feels so foreign. I've been so angry for so long, can I really expect God to listen?
It doesn't matter. This isn't for me. Asking for a divine intervention seems as practical as hoping on three percent.
I pray for more time. 233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmOEc7j95SA
I pray for hope. 233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIGZaTC6lKD
I pray for the future. 233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡctsdcBSsQw
I pray for a wedding and children and happiness in both of our lives. 233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡax211z1cyt
I pray that I never know my life without this person who means so much to me.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb2yUTJNcT0
I pray for more than three percent.
It's not fair.
Laying my head on the bed, I feel the doubt and fear wash over me. Insecurity consumes me. I can feel the weight of the situation as it settles on my small, insignificant shoulders.
This is it.
This is the end.
At the time, all I could think about was never seeing my mom again. Selfishly, I thought about her not being at my wedding or ever seeing my kids. I find myself praying for the same things, but it's different this time.
I pray for more time with him, I need so much more time than this. I want forever.
I pray for hope. I need to believe he can get better, that someday we will be together again.
I pray for the future I might never have with him.
I pray for our wedding. I don't care what it looks like or how much it costs, but I want it with him.
I pray for our future children. I didn't even know I wanted kids until I thought of the possibility of not having them with him.
I pray for happiness, for both of us, hopefully in a life spent together.
I pray that I never know my life without him.
He can't die until we're old and grey. We will just pass away peacefully in our sleep, like they did in that sappy movie... Crap... What was that movie?
Oh right, The Notebook. God, that was so sweet and so depressing. Okay, stop thinking about death now.
Please let him be okay.
I wipe at the tears that are falling without permission as I try not to think about the life I might never have.
I need more than three percent this time. He's nothing like my mom, she looked pale and lifeless.
Ben looks so small surrounded by all the machinery, but nothing like my mom did as she slipped away. Her life had slowly left her body until there was nothing left of the women I knew as my mother.
Ben still looks like Ben, strong and handsome. I can almost see him smirking at me. I miss his smile, his dimples, his laugh, his eyes lighting up, his voice, his teasing. I just miss him.
I can't believe I'm even thinking it, but I love him. I think I always have.
Holy crap.
I love Joseph Bentley Alexander.
He means so much to me and he might never know. He might die.
The man I love might die.
He can't die without knowing I love him, can he?
There's still so much we need to do together. I'll even go bowling with him if he wants.
Please just let him live.
I don't think I can live without him.
The room suddenly feels so big and yet so small as it tries to contain my entire world.
The machines strain and groan to keep him alive. My love is right in front of me and I can't do anything.
Did I realize too late?
What can I do to make him stay?
I look at Nate, standing in the corner, wearing the same look on his face he had all night. He's in so much pain, but he would never admit it.
I pull out my phone, shooting of a quick text. Why didn't I do that sooner?
Glancing around, I realize for the first time that Cole isn't even in the room, as I catch his figure though the tiny window in the door. He's pacing the hall outside the room, frantically waving his arms as he talks on the phone.
I lean forward, pressing my lips to Ben's forehead. I whisper softly in his ear, so Nate can't hear me.
"Stay with me, Ben." My tears fall, landing on his cheek. "Please, stay for me."
ns 15.158.61.48da2
