by CJ Lyons
Noah’s voice, his hand on my arm.
“Come on, hurry up.” A familiar male voice. “We’re going now.”
Felt fear spike up my arm, a terror for what was to come. It dissipated when his touch left my arm, Noah was leaving. Strained to speak, to reassure him. A realization dawned upon me all at once, the voice. It was his father.
“No…” I murmured, and I felt his hand on my arm again.
“Aerie?” he asked, “Are you awake?” Hopeful, almost happy.
“Stay…” I managed after a moment, cursing at how disoriented I was still.
“Aerie…” he began, cut off when his father grabbed his arm.
Pure fear shot up my arm, jolting into my heart, shaking my whole body. Gasped in unison with him, my heartbeat accelerating. His touch left me again, dulling the reception of the fear. Think I’m so attuned to him now that we don’t even need to be touching for me to sense his feelings anymore.
Opened my eyes and watched him leave, seeing only the blur of his white shirt and raven hair, and the dark mass of his father pulling him along.
“Goodbye, Aerie.” He said quietly, before the door closed.
My mind protested this vehemently, but my body wouldn’t move to stop him from leaving. After a few minutes, the door opened and I looked up hopefully, slightly crestfallen when Terra walked in.
It would have been nicer if she was smiling, I think, but she was frowning.
“His father… he took him.” She said dejectedly, sitting down in the chair beside my bed.
Blinked, nodding, aggravating the headache pounding in my head.
She sunk further down in the chair, running her fingers through her hair in exasperation. “So tell me, what happened?”
Licked my lips, and cleared my throat. “I took that mug, climbed the ladder… he smiled at me, and…” I furrowed my brow, “…and then I was in some kind of dream. I heard crying, and someone asked me, how dare you make him smile?”
Terra looked dangerously serious, almost glowering at me.
“What?”
“Noah… he’s cursed. Born unlucky and bringing misfortune to everyone around him.”
“What? You’ve heard about this sort of thing before?”
“People around the ‘cursed’ ones die. It’s happened more than once. If he is one of the cursed children, he must have made a deal with someone, or you would already be dead.” She paused, waiting for a response I did not give, “If he gave something up to remove the effects of the curse… it would have to be huge. I wonder what they took.”
“…Happiness.” I said eventually. “He always talks about how all he wants is to be happy.”
She frowned, “Yes. Probably. He reversed it. He takes on the burden of people’s pain to spare them from his curse. That explains why he won’t die. If he dies, he can’t bear the burden of other’s pain, and so the curse keeps him alive.”
“So why…? Why is he cursed in the first place?”
“A cursed child is born when neither parent truly loves them.”
Felt tears well up in my eyes, and closed them to restrain them. This blockade was broken when a low cry spilled from my lips.
“So…” I choked out, “Nobody has ever loved him?” More tears grew and fell from my eyes.
Terra got up, looking as sad as I felt. “No, I don’t think so. No one but you, Aerian.”
Brought my hand to my face, sobbing into it. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair.”
She grabbed my other hand, holding it between hers. “I know, but that’s why this happened.” She kissed my hand. “You make him happy, you love him, and at that moment, you broke his pact and the curse attacked you, the person he cares for more than anything. I’m sorry, Aerian.” The empathy she was emanating coursed through me, forcing more tears from my eyes. “I’m so sorry, I wish it was different.”
She leaned down, hugging me tightly, “I wish it was different.”
82 Days, 7 December, Sunday
Wish with all my heart that I had the strength to stop Noah from leaving.
If I had been able to grab him, hold on to him, keep him away from the dark shape of his father, he wouldn’t have…
Hate remembering the phone call I got earlier. Came home last night, and was strongly advised to stay home and rest. Was lying on the couch, in a sort of half-sleep, when the phone rang, sending a javelin of pain directly into my temple.
Reached for it instantly, to stop the hellish sound, massaging my temples as I croaked out a ‘hello’.
“Aerian?” It was Terra.
“Hi… how are you?”
“I’m fine!” she sounded rushed, “Listen, have you heard from Noah since yesterday?”
“No… I just came home and laid around today, why?”
“He’s here.”
I straightened, “Why?”
“He’s-” There was a muffled conversation, I could tell Terra was covering the mouthpiece of the phone. “He’s in critical condition in the ICU, his father brought him in. Apparently, there was a break-in at their estate, and the intruders beat him nearly to death, and threw him down the stairs when he resisted them. ”
I was silent, a horrible sick feeling burning in my stomach, reminiscent of yesterday.
“We’ve all been told to not tell anyone he’s here. His father is claiming it’s to protect Noah from the intruders.”
“No. It was his father. That’s just a story.” I sat up, shaking off the headache. “I’m coming in.”
“No, A stóirín, you’re supposed to rest. I’ll take care of him-”
“Terra, I have to see him. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”
She sighed, before replying. “Okay, but be careful. I’ll meet you outside the west door.”
Was at the hospital in ten minutes, my worry quickening my pace. As soon as I got to the West Door, Terra opened it and ushered me through. She had bright pink patches on her cheeks, “Come on, he’s in unit six.”
She led me there hastily, narrowly avoiding other nurses and doctors.
As soon as we got close to unit six I felt it. The horrible agony rushing from him in waves. The sensation was so strong I felt like screaming. There was a viewing window for unit six; Terra held my arm as I approached it, steadying me for the inevitable shock.
It struck me full-force, even with her holding me up.
Couldn’t help but start to cry again, looking at him like that.
His thin frail body, being strapped into the bed by countless machines, bandages, and braces holding him together.
My hand drifted up to the glass, like I wanted to reach through it and pull him out of there.
Terra kept a firm hold on my arm, intensely worried I was going to fall over.
The most noticeable thing in that room were the bruises; everything is white except for them. Vivid purples and reds, standing out starkly in the crisp white of the surrounding room.
The doctors that were flitting about here and there had stripped him down to the waist, revealing his emaciated torso tattooed with repeating patterns of abuse.
Someone was suturing up a dark wound on his left cheekbone, obviously trying to be careful, from the slow deliberate way they stitched.
Swayed, leaning more heavily on Terra. A thick, suffocating emotion fell over me, pure unadulterated pain seeping from his body in waves.
“Aerian? Are you okay? Can you stand?”
“Can’t you feel it? It’s so strong.” I shook my head, “He… wants it to end. It’s all over him, inside him. That feeling. He wants to die.” My knees buckled, I heard Terra call for help.
We want to die.
Woke up again on a hospital cot. Whoever out me here was at least kind enough to untie my hair elastic.
Was in a really small room. The only things in it were a few filing cabinets, and the cot. Could hear voices from outside the closed door, and saw a thin strip of light filtering in from underneath the door.
Slowly, I slid to the side
of the cot, swinging my legs over the edge and testing my balance. My body didn’t protest, save for a headache throbbing warningly in the back of my head.
When I opened the door, the light blinded me for a few seconds; blinked, rubbing my eyes.
As I opened them, Terra pulled me into a hug.
“Aerian! Don’t scare me like that!”
Returned the embrace, tentatively touching the back of her neck to get an accurate read on her emotions.
Fear, sadness, exhaustion.
“I’m sorry, Terra.”
“You guys, both of you! Always making me worry.” She leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Terra.” I said again, my heart aching. I want to tell her so badly. Tell her what May confirmed to me.
You are going to die. Six months after your eighteenth birthday. 27th February.
If I tell her, she’ll cry. She’ll cry and spend the next three months counting down the days like me.
Can’t do that to her. So I’ll just write it down, tell it to you, because I can’t tell anyone else.
81 Days, 8 December, Monday
Sitting here in my living room, staring at the paper chains we made together while I know he’s in surgery right now is one of the most awful feelings I’ve ever experienced.
When I think of the pain that he must be feeling…
Terra told me to avoid the hospital until he’s stable because of what happened last time.
“If he’s that close to dying, you’re going to feel it because of your connection. It’s too dangerous, you have to go home.”
Reluctantly obeyed, getting a ride back from Sean.
Thought about going to school, but I don’t think that I will until he’s okay enough to talk to. There’s no way I’ll be able to do anything knowing he’s alone in that hospital.
It hurts to be this far away from him. I know there’s nothing I can do for him anyway, but still.
Don’t like the idea of someone else being the one to help him. Maybe that’s selfish and stupid, but I want to be the one to save him.
80 Days, 9 December, Tuesday
Last night, Terra came home earlier than usual, looking more distraught than I had seen her in a while.
“He’s in rough shape now, love, but he’s stable. Three surgeries today, and he’s in the recovery room until tomorrow. He still hasn’t come round yet.” She sunk into her armchair, cradling her head in her hands. “He’s… he’s unresponsive.”
Sat down across from her, an accelerated heartbeat ramping up in my chest. Swallowed the lump that formed in my throat, “You mean…?”
“He won’t respond to any of the stimuli. None of it! The others say he might not wake up!” A choked sob broke from her lips, and she sat up, beckoning for me to come to her.
Stepped over to her, suddenly aware that I was trembling uncontrollably. My legs gave out underneath me, and I knelt beside her, hugging her tightly.
“Is- is he gonna die?” I asked, shaking in her grasp. My vision blurred, and I leaned more into the hug.
“I don’t know, love. He’s not out of danger yet.”
“No…”
That’s all I remember from that. Then Terra was shaking me awake, calling my name. Evidently, I had fallen unconscious again.
Guess that’s pretty common after getting severe concussions.
She directed me to lie on the couch, and not to move unless I absolutely had to.
“Aerian, honey… can I ask you a question?”
Nodded, with my eyes closed.
“You just said you have 80 days. What does that mean?”
My next breath stuck in my throat. Did I tell her when I was knocked out? What other things might I have said?
“Just… that’s how many days until Noah’s birthday.”
“Oh… it sounded like you said- Well. You can go to sleep now, just promise me you’ll wake up.”
“Absolutely.”
Wish I could say the same thing in 80 days.
79 Days, 10 December, Wednesday
Woke up today feeling very lonely. Maybe I got used to having Noah around, and now that he’s away…
…it hurts.
He was finally stabilised and moved to a normal room. Terra called me as soon as he was settled, and confirmed that he was allowed guests.
So of course I hurried over there as fast as I could.
For posterity’s sake, I’ll record exactly how he looked.
He was paler than I had ever seen him, all colour seemed to be drained from him, matching the stark white that surrounded him. He was mostly covered by several soft blankets, although his arms lay on top of them,
There were two IV’s stuck into his left arm, one coloured brilliant ruby red, flowing into his veins in some feeble attempt to restore some colour to him. The other was clear, and seemed to be some kind of pain medication. I’m not sure if it was morphine or what. His right forearm was bound in a thick cast, with his fingers stretching out from it, long and thin.
Bandages and dressings covered almost every part of him, save for the right half of his face. The left side of his face was completely obscured by thick pads and bandages, taped into place.
Cords that attached all over him tangled their way to various monitoring machines, his whole body humming with mechanical life.
He was still intubated, and the periodic rush of the machine ventilating him and forcing his chest out was disconcerting. He’s still in deep, apparently.
A little while later, Terra joined me in his room, and removed the intubation unit, assisted by the doctor I understood to be the surgeon in charge of his operations.
Guess he’s coming up from the sedation from the surgeries now, and has resumed breathing on his own.
Terra sat with me for a little while, and then was called away. We didn’t speak the entire time she was here, but it was comforting.
Was sort of numb until I decided to touch him. Had previously just been sitting next to him, absorbing the still nothingness.
The moment I touched him, all of it flowed into me.
Almost burst into tears, clutching his hand in my own, kissing it softly between cries.
How could this happen to him? It wasn’t fair. It was so wrong.
There was nothing I could do.
Just sat beside him and cried and cried, drying my eyes on his hospital blanket.
That’s a beautiful line, maybe.
Cried until Terra checked in on us.
Think I’m out of tears.
78 Days, 11 December, Thursday
Think the number one thing I’m going to have to get used to is the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. It grates on my mind, a secondly reminder that that his heart is still beating.
Ticking clocks are the same.
I’m waiting for him to wake up, listening to the sounds of the heart monitor and watching the drip of the IV in the light from the digital displays.
Terra insisted I come home with her, but I ardently declined. Someone had to be here when he woke up, and I knew nobody would stay but me.
Sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall.
It’s 8:17.
Had fallen asleep in the chair and not realised it was morning. Got up and stretched, hearing my back crack a few times.
Noah was still sleeping with the bed tilting upwards slightly. His raven-black hair caught some of the light filtering through the curtains, shining amidst all of the white. But it was the only saving grace.
He looked… wretched.
The swelling on his face had receded the tiniest amount, leaving behind even darker bruising. His cheeks were sunken, hollowed out like all substance had left him.
Even though they’re horrible, and I’m wishing them away, those cuts and bruises add colour to his otherwise black and white body. But he’s more white than anything, pale skin, white bandages, white hospital smock.
Can abide the bandages, they’re necessary to heal him, it’s t
he smock I don’t like.
It makes him look sicker, pinched. Like it’s several sizes too large for him and he looks smaller for it. He seems to be drowning in the white, disappearing and fusing with it until all you could see were the brilliant colours of the bruises and the sharp black of his hair.
Glanced up at the IV, praying there was some sort of potent painkiller coursing down into his arm.
Sighing, I sank back down into the chair, stretching my legs out.
I rem… what was I writing?
I remained in that position for a few minutes when I saw him move. Terra did say that once the sedation wears off he’ll start to wake up soon.
It wasn’t a huge movement, but slow and deliberate. His left hand, the one closest to me, opened and closed a few times, and then went still.
Got up slowly, making my way to his bedside, my hopeful expression dropping as I realised his eyes were still closed.
Then I realised that tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes, running down his face and soaking into the bandages around his neck.
Hesitantly, I touched his shoulder, and felt a flurry of emotion rush into me. Instantly felt more miserable, and the added feelings of fatigue, loneliness and huge amounts of pain joined as well.
This pain seemed to be a phantom feeling, not physical, but deeply mental.
And all I could think of was him.
That’s what he’s experiencing. All those emotions and feelings attacking him and not allowing him a peaceful rest. It’s so unfair.
Want to grab hold of him, even if it hurts him, and just pull him up out of this whole situation.
Maybe that’s why I felt that the first time I was in here. That strong feeling, forming itself into words as it pervaded my body.
I want to die. I want to die. I want to die.
He just wanted the same thing as me, to be free of this time, this place, these circumstances.
But this is our reality, and we have to face it.
Did end up going home with Terra tonight, but I’m going back to the hospital as soon as I can tomorrow.
77 Days, 12 December, Friday
It seems his father’s lie about Noah being attacked by a burglar proved to vindicate him. People around the hospital are praising him as a hero, protecting his home and family with his life.
