I collapse to the floor. My pretty white frilly skirt now soaked in blood. I run my hand up my leg, covering it in red. So much red. "Claudia! Help!"
The bathroom doors swings open. "LUCY!"
"I don't know what's happening!" I scream. "What's happening?"
The pain takes over. I can't keep my eyes open...
"LUCAS!" I hear her yell.
I can't stop crying.
I can't breathe.
I can't...
"Cameron..."
Empty.
Darkness.
-CAMERON-
I check my phone for the third time, making sure that I got her flight details right. The plane landed forty-five minutes ago. I watched everyone get off, everyone but her. I've tried calling. Six times. Her phone rings out. If she were delayed, surely she'd call me.
I ask the woman at the airline desk, but she won't tell me if Lucy even boarded the flight. I'm starting to get worried that maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she doesn't want to come back. Or even if she does, maybe she doesn't want to come back to me.
Then my phone rings, and Lucas's voice fills my ears. "Cameron." His voice is strained. "It's Lucy. She's in the hospital. You have to come. Now."
I tell him to text me the details as I rush back to the airline desk. I try to pay for a ticket to New Jersey, but my card gets declined. I even try the emergency card Mom gave me. Declined. I call Minge—I'll sell him the fucking Delorean if it means getting me to Lucy. He doesn't answer. I sit on the floor in the corner of the airport, shaking from crying so hard. I try my dad. His assistant tells me he's in a meeting. I curse her until she hangs up on me.
Lucas: Princeton Hospital. I'm scared. Please hurry!
I drop my head between my shoulders, dial a number, hold the phone to my ear, and I wait.
He answers first ring.
"Cameron? What's up?"
"Mark." My voice breaks. "I need your help."
That's all it takes.
An hour later, Mom and Mark arrive. He pre-purchased tickets on the way and an hour after that, I was in the air. We all were.
"Do they know anything?" Mom asks.
I shake my head, trying to keep everything together. And I do—until she pulls me in her arms and whispers, "It's okay, baby. You'll be with her soon."
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
-CAMERON-
Lucy doesn't talk about her mom's death often, but when she does, she tells me that the wait was the worst part. The not knowing. I always thought it was strange—but now, after sitting in the waiting room of the hospital for twelve hours—I get it. I completely get it.
The nurses at the desk said that it was family only beyond that point. I begged, I pleaded, I even tried to bribe them with Mark's money. Nothing worked. And then I got angry, beyond angry, and was asked to leave and cool off.
"I am her family!" I shouted at Mark while I paced back and forth outside the entrance.
"I know."
"We've been together longer than some married people and apparently that's not good enough!"
"I know," he said again.
After five minutes and me kicking the shit out of a trashcan, I was finally calm enough to go back in. Mom tried to be strong, but she was struggling just as much as I was.
I sit on the floor with my head between my knees and I wait. And wait. And wait.
Then I feel someone sit down next to me. I think it's Mark so I don't bother looking up. "Cameron." Tom's deep voice echoes in my ears.
My head lifts and my eyes snap to his. "Is she okay?"
His eyes are red and tired, like the time we sat on his porch and talked for hours. It seems like forever ago. "You can all come back now, but she only wants to see you."
My feet feel like lead as I follow behind him, my mom holding my hand the entire time. But all my senses are off. Like I'm under water, unable to hear, unable to breathe. I want to scream, like I do in the river behind my old house. But people can hear me now. People will know.
I place my palm flat against her door. And I try to breathe. A warm hand grasps my shoulder. I turn to Lucas, so much like his Dad. "Be strong," he says. "She needs your strength."
She cries when she sees me, but she won't look at me.
"Baby." I sit on the chair next to her bed and take her hand. "What happened?"
She looks up at the ceiling, her eyes filled with tears. She doesn't speak. She doesn't move. She doesn't grasp my hand. She just cries.
I stand up just so I can look down at her, and I run my hand across her forehead and into her hair. "Babe."
She cries harder when she hears my voice—when she sees my tears.
"I'm sorry, Cameron." Then she pulls her hand out of my hold and slowly flips to her side, away from me. I want to climb into the bed. I want to hold her. I want to know what the hell is happening. There are too many machines, too many wires. There's too much pressure on my chest from the weight of everything.