{Don't forget to check out the beginning: http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic61302.html:
Chapter 4:
When I began to see the light that cued my awaking I tried desperately to run away from it, like I had the times before. I couldn't acknowledge what had happened, what I'd heard. It had to be a lie, a figment of my imagination. Then why won't you wake up, my mind asked me. I was having conversations with myself, it was better than waking up. Why? Why can't you wake up? Because--I wanted a good reason, one that would justify everything, proof that it was a lie. But there was none, Only my feeble cling that it all was a lie. When I knew it was not.
"Hope, I hope you have a good explanation for this, dragging me away from work--"
"Shut Up!" I was in shock. First that my father was here! My beloved father came to visit me, but my mom...she had always told me to respect him, especially when he was busy. It didn't seem in her character to...yell at him. I wanted to tell her to stop, but it seemed I had pushed myself so deep into the coma-like state that I couldn't get out.
"Hope McNeer. What is the meaning of this," my father sounded forceful, outraged, but also collected. That's why he was the businessman.
"You know exactly what this is about. You ignore this child. This wonderful child! One who got into this state trying to please YOU! And you don't even bother to come until life-threatening," she stumbles, "news comes in! How could you. She's dying, just sitting there dying, and you haven't even come to visit." Mom's voice is rising steadily, and I have a feeling this isn't all about me. "You just leave her to die...don't even help...she's dying...how could you...abandon us..." she's sobbing too heavily for me to actually hear what she's saying. I have a feeling she's touching him, leaning into his broad chest, but I couldn't know for sure.
"Hope..." my dad's reply is feeble, for once he is at a loss of words. I had no idea..that she felt that way. Like he abandoned us. I thought about it. The late work nights, every week. Why...did he have a small family on the side. Like those day-shows. No, dad just didn't have time for us. Why didn't that sound reassuring or kind at all now. It wasn't my reassurance now. It was proof against. No...he was my beloved father. Or did you just not know him enough to really know him? I asked myself. Was that true, was he really a horrid person who only cared about his career. It was so hard to think of him like that, after the--pedestal-- I'd put him on. It seemed cruel. But true. Anger burned in me. He mistreats us, we're just for show. He doesn't really care. Not even about me...now. I shrugged away from that. I couldn't accept that now.
The room was quiet for once, and I contemplated going back to the dark. But should I? My mom needed me, and dad. Half of me wanted to give him a piece of my mind, the other wanting to fade away into the depression that was swallowing me. The grief of iminant doom. What a silly phrase. There had to be hope.
"Hope, maybe there's hope." He tried to laugh, maybe this was him feeling some guilt. Maybe he wasn't all that bad...no I had to stop myself, one thing was not retribution for everything else.
"We could search for people with her blood. If we trace back to where our ancestors began we'd eventually find a person right? There must be someone else that has blood like hers. Someone." His voice didn't crack, not like mom's would've. I know mom's would've. But this was hope, wasn't it. A string of hope. Then why did I feel so doubtful? Don't I want to live?
"Honey, come with me." Then doors opened and closed a second later. If I was going to wake up, there was no one to welcome me. I was left to my own devices.
I wanted to empty myself, to let the dark take me over, but my thoughts pulsed on one line: Your going to die, your going to die, your going to die, your going to die. I couldn't fade away, and the only distraction was the thing I wanted to get away from. The pain was just too real. Like I could touch it if I wanted. I didn't want to believe it, but it was obviously true. How could I die. The depression and ever crushing waves of anguish threatened to swallow me up. The truth was there. My existence was to be extinguished. My whole being wanted to ache. To say it is not to be true. That there was hope. But it was pretty obvious that there was none. Maybe I could go to these places where we came from, but would they have my blood. I wanted to be strong, for my mom, but it was hard. Could I have the guts, the strength to face her. Knowing I was going to die? What about Dustin. I wanted to cry. They would all be so sad. And for me. Depressing. I couldn't take it, if someone looked at me with that much pity in their eyes. I wanted to think that I had the strength to inspire strength in others. The strength to carry on and be joyful while I was sick. When I wasted away before their eyes. I wanted to have that strength. But I didn't. No matter. I thought of my mother's smiling face. Then the tears and sobs I heard, I didn't want her like that, I had to help her. I had to. Would that happen to me. The overwhelming guilt? The sadness. It could. I wouldn't let it. Wanting to keep the peace that this realization gave me,I began to let myself fade. My personality, my pain, my guilt, my suspicions, my misery. Let it fade into the tide, the shadow, the echos in my mind.
OOC>Trouble on this post...
