The Boy She Saw in the Hospital

chapter 7- jacob's story

Jacob's POV:

"So Jacob Hiell, what's your story?"

"My story?"

Well. I had a good childhood. I mean the first four years of my life. My dad left my mother at an early age, so that left some trauma.

I was only five. He just up and left. How can a grown man do that? How could he gather up the courage to just leave his wife and son.

I cannot even fathom how that must have felt for my mother. Her husband leaving and her five year old son, crying, asking her where his father went. Could you imagine?

My mother deserved better. She truly is a wonderful woman. Sacrificing everything just for her family.

9 months later, my mother gave birth to my little sister. Avery Hiell. You see my father was generous, he didn't just leave my mother with nothing, he left her with a baby.

Unfortunately, Avery was a premature baby. My mother had to give birth to her. I was waiting outside. I still remember the sheer and utter pain in her cries.

That must've been so traumatic. I can't even imagine.

When I finally was able to see my mother, she wasn't herself. She changed. That birth changed her. She wasn't herself anymore. She wasn't abusive or anything, nor did she do anything bad. But something about her was just off. She was just different.

She began seeing a therapist and was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I don't talk much about this. Reason being I would never let this define her. She's so much more than that. She shouldn't be recognised by being schizophrenic. No one should. She is a wonderful person.

I still and will always love her.

However, everything changed when I was 13.

My mother started complaining about these horrible headaches she would start having.

I thought nothing of it. Why? Why did I brush this off like it was nothing?

She began feeling extremely nauseous and developed seizures. That's when she knew something was up.

She drove to the hospital with me in the backseat. I was scared. I didn't know what to do I was just sat there. It was the fear of the unknown. Or the fear of the knowing. Fear of knowledge. I don't want to know what's wrong with my mother. That makes everything much scarier. Knowing.

We got to the hospital fairly quick and she had a word with the doctor. They ran a couple tests on her. I'm not sure what they were since I was so young.

I was told to sit outside in the waiting room.

My mother came back and told me the three words that will haunt me forever.

"I have cancer." She wiped her tears away, trying her best to stay strong in front of her son.

I sat there. Silent. Mute. Scared.

My young mind couldn't fully grasp the concept of cancer. All I knew was that it was bad and she could die.

I pushed her away and ran outside so I could be free in the refreshing night.

That's probably when my tendency to push the people I love away when they're in need most started. I think I'm scared of losing them.

My mother had stage 4 brain cancer. It was bad. Really bad. She had to start chemotherapy the next day.

As I grew older, I got more used to it. I got used to being around all this cancer equipment and I understood how to use it to help my mother.

However, I didn't get used to the fact that she would die. Fairly soon.

I pushed it away. Acted like it wasn't true. And I still do.

Me and my mother switched roles in the house. Instead of her, I was now the sole caretaker of the household and I still am.

I spent the past few years taking care of her. I don't mind it. I love her very much.

Obviously she can't be making money. So I have to.

I got into drugs.

Not like doing them. Selling them.

Yes, I became a drug dealer. Drug dealing was an easy and fast way to make money. I didn't dabble too much in it. I just sold what I could to keep food on the table.

However, it doesn't define me. I love the word define.

Ever since I started balancing drug dealing with taking care of my mother, my performance at school has dramatically decreased. It's honestly incredible how a straight B student could go down to flat F's.

My mother was obviously notified of this and was concerned. She kept insisting it was her fault but no, it certainly wasn't. And I was never going to let her think that.

I told her not to worry about it. I tell her not to worry about a lot of things that she probably should be worried about.

One day everything went awry.

I was doing a deal in school so I packed drugs in my bag. A lot. A whole lot.

Some snitch decided to...well snitch.

They told the principal on me so during break, he got up from his crusty office, straight down to my locker, opened it up looked straight in it and straight at me.

By now everyone was looking.

I was caught red-handed with drugs in my bag.

He decided to lecture me as I just stood there, looking straight down at my feet.

I could tolerate this. I was in the wrong.

"I mean what do you expect, his mother is the town's schizo, of course he sells drugs."

Excuse me?

Did this snobby waste of oxygen just talk about my mother. I don't even know who he is. He's some irrelevant dude with an irrelevant forehead. So to give that forehead some relevance. I punch him in it.

And I keep punching, and punching. Then I move down to his irrelevant nose. And his irrelevant lips. Just all over his irrelevant face. The principal tries to stop us but I push him off. I'm not done with this guy.

"My office! Now!"

I overhear him but this guy is beginning to get relevant so I just need to give him a bit more-

"That's it, Hiell, you're expelled!"

Oh. Suddenly I stop. I guess he relevance doesn't suit him.

I look at him. Scared. What will my mother say? Will she still love me? Will she leave me?

I walk home that night, heart heavy with guilt. I don't want to become a disappointment to my mother. I want her to be proud. I don't want her to leave.

I unlock the front door.

I see my mother. Lying there. On the ground.

I rush up to her with speed. Is she okay? What if the cancer got worse? Is she dead?

Questions racing through my mind. I check if she has a pulse. Thankfully, she does.

I feel relieved but I still call the ambulance so she can be checked properly and not by a teenage boy.

She gets hospitalised. In October time. That was last year. Everyday I visit her at 2:47pm with tulips, her favourite flower.

I told her about my expulsion at my school. She's disappointed and is confused on why I was fighting. I don't tell her. I don't want her upset. I enroll to a new school, Valerie's school.

So yeah I think you're up to date now. That's my story.

————————
hiiii
this story was kind of sad to write
you can tell that jacob really loves his mother
i hope this gives you insight on jacob and who he is
if you have any feedback please give it to me
anyways stay tuned for more
word count- 1296
31/08/22