|Three| After all the crushes have faded…And all my wishful thinking was wrong…

“Bitch. Whore. You fucking bitch, get the hell outta my way!”

“NO!” Emma screeched, her eyes popping open. Sweat glistened on her forehead, her heart beat pounded rapidly against her chest. She sat up, her sheets feeling like binding ropes.

Eunice, the night nurse, scurried in her room, looking around. “What is it honey? What’s wrong?”

Emma lay back down, kicking her sheets off. Her legs were sticky with sweat. So was the rest of her. Her hair was matted against the crisp linen pillow case. It itched like crazy. She let Eunice, who was quite elderly, fret over her for a few moments while her breath evened.

“I had another nightmare,” explained Emma.

“Oh honey,” clucked Eunice, shaking her head sadly. “You need to talk to the Doc ‘bout all this.”

Emma pulled her covers up to her chin and shook her head. “I’m fine.” Her eyelids became droopy and suddenly she felt herself slip back into slumber.

“Poor child,” muttered Eunice, running her hand over Emma’s cheek. The moonlight shined through the crack in between blinds, cascading itself across Emma‘s fair features. “She’s been through so much.” She sighed and then left the room, clicking the door closed softly behind her.

*

Emma sighed heavily. “Can we talk about something good for a change?”

The doctor threaded her fingers together and rested them atop her pad gracefully. Emma inwardly rolled her eyes. The doctor was everything Emma was not, it seemed. Where the doctor was feminine, Emma was, well, masculine: she wore baggy clothes, band t-shirts and could not remember the last time she’d worn a dress. She could remember, actually, but she chose not to acknowledge it. She never did her nails (unless you counted toes) and she never wore makeup; the only thing she even bothered with was her long hair. That, she took care of.

“What would you like to talk about?” Dr. Johansen asked eventually.

Emma glanced at the clock that rested behind Dr. Johansen. There was still plenty of time left in the session. “I met Lily’s brother yesterday.”

“Did you?” She asked, seemingly interested. “What’s he like?”

“He’s really nice,” replied Emma. “We took a walk and it was almost like---almost like I was normal again.”

“You are normal, Emma, you just have to convince yourself of the fact.”

“I know. It’s hard, though. I can’t seem to let go of the past. But I can’t have a future unless I do.” Emma put her head in her hands. “I’m scared that when Lily dies I’ll---”

“You’ll what?” Dr. Johansen prompted, leaning forward.

“Do it again,” she whispered, her eyes stinging with the salty liquid again. “I know I’ll be depressed and when I’m depressed…it’s just not a pretty sight. I‘m weak.”

Dr. Johansen nodded slightly. “You’re trying hard, Emma. And you’re doing very well. You’ve been through quite a lot in your life at such a young age. Depression is something that anyone can go through. It’s not whether you’re weak or strong. It’s just how you let things get to you. And it’s how you are inside. If you’re a caring person then when something bad happens to someone you care about, especially something you couldn’t help or stop, then of course you’re going to become depressed when you lose that person. It’s normal, Emma. You’re normal.” She smiled slightly and Emma looked up, catching her brown eyes just for a millisecond. Dr. Johansen took her long brown hair out of its normal bun and stood up. Emma stood up too, but cautiously. “Tell me about Lily and her brother. Tell me about what your friendship with Lily means to you.”

Emma looked up, this time longer. She locked eyes with her doctor and saw that she was smiling. Emma smiled back. Even though she still felt a huge hole inside her heart, she knew that it was filling up. Perhaps even as she spoke.

*

Elijah wasn’t in Lily’s room when Emma arrived at half past eleven that morning. Lily was hooked up to more machines than normal and had an oxygen mask in her frail hand; she smiled when she saw Emma, but Emma couldn’t muster anything to give back.

She sat on the edge of Lily’s bed and took her friend’s hand. “Lily. I talked with Dr. Johansen this morning and---and I’m feeling better about things. I’m not worried about when you…” She paused, taking a breath. “I’m going to be okay, Lil. And so’s Elijah. I’ll make sure.”

Lily squeezed her hand ever so slightly. The door creaked open and Elijah stepped in. Before he’d taken even three steps, he stopped. His eyes were locked on his sisters and Emma was afraid he’d faint on the spot. Instead, he composed himself and stepped towards them. He brought the one chair in the room up to the bed and took Lily’s other hand. Emma let go of the one she had and handed Lily her oxygen mask.

“Mom is coming,” he said simply. His blue eyes were glistening. Emma thought she probably ought to go, she stood up but Elijah put his hand on her arm. “Thank you.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, “For what?”

“For being there for my sister when me and my family couldn’t.” He swallowed, she could see he was biting back tears, unwilling to show his sister how sad he was: he was fighting to be strong for her.

Emma nodded, waved at Lily and then left. On the way back to her room, she felt a hot, stingy tear slide down her cheek; when the tear hit her mouth, she tasted the salt and she nearly gagged. Once in her room, she closed the door and threw herself on her bed.