sickly (dylan o'brien a.u.)

s e v e n

d y l a n

i sat watching the doctors discuss things around my mom's bed with my aunt, but i wasn't really hearing them. all i could think about was emelia's words from before, and how they had made me want to kiss her so badly. i started to think about how i had completely humiliated both myself and her by backing out of kissing her, since we were both prepared to do so. this led me to picture kissing her, and my thought chain kept branching out further and further, to... other... things emelia and i could do. i was pulled from my own head when my phone buzzed with a new message.

from: emelia - pls dont miss out on 2night. rmbr, 3 am. i rly need u there.

my face twisted with worry, and my heart sunk a little. i wanted to know what was up, but she had her mom issues, and i had mine, so i figured it was best to wait until tonight. "dylan?" i turned to look at one of the doctors who had called my name. i had never met him before. "dylan, i'm dr. wills, but you can call me sam if you'd like. i'm from the psychiatric ward, so you probably don't know me."

"uh... no, no i don't." was there a reason he was talking to me specifically? suddenly, my aunt carole was beside me, squeezing my hand. "why are you here, exactly?"

dr. wills smiled, pulling up a plastic chair from the corner of the room and positioning it in front me of me. he took a seat and became eye level with me, leaning in close. "i'm here to help you through this. the death of a parent can be very devastating, especially with one parent already out of the picture. i'm going to do everything i can to make your mom's passing as painless as possible."

i looked at my aunt, wanting to speak with her, not this incredibly calm and annoyingly kind psychiatrist who was here to deal with the crazies that came in, not me. "can i speak with you?" i asked, trying my best to pretend dr. wills wasn't there.

"dylan..." her voice had a tone of warning. she didn't want to come off as rude to this man, but i didn't care.

"please." i stood up and left the room, hoping she would follow. i mean, would she pick her reputation over her nephew's well-being? probably not. it took only a few seconds for her to join me in the hallway, a stern expression on her face.

"dylan, that man is going to help you, and i do not -"

i crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. "he doesn't need to help me. she's not going to die."

my aunt sighed. "dylan," she began, rubbing her hands over face. "okay. okay. she's been fighting this thing for a long time. she has more bad days than good. we've kept her here as long as we could, but it's her time to go. we don't know when, but we know it's soon. and you need help to get through it, help from someone who isn't me, so you need dr. wills. he can help."

"she's not going to die! everyone keeps saying she is, all the time, but she hasn't! all the doctors we've seen have said she won't make it, and here we are with three years under our belts when it should have only been a few weeks. so, i stand by this when i say she's not going to die. i don't need a therapist."

my aunt laid a hand on my shoulder, a pitying look on her face. "okay. liza's going to be fine."

"yea."

"but if she's not, dylan, you can't -"

"i need to go." i turned away from her and headed to the only place i knew i would get peace and quiet. i had also never been to this part of the hospital, so it took me awhile to find it. i pushed open the doors, relieved to see no one else was in here. sliding into one of the pews, i looked at the alter in front of me, a few prayer candles flickering there.

i didn't pray, because i was all prayed out. i had prayed for so long i thought my hands would be clasped together forever and my ass was sore from the hard pews; and, still, she was dying."what the hell, man?" i spoke aloud, silently hoping that what i was about to say wouldn't offend the big guy upstairs. "why do i get the short end of the stick? dad leaves, mom gets sick, she starts dying, and i get left here with... with what? my aunt who only reminds me of the father who didn't love me enough? a girl who i can't kiss because her mom is dying, too, and i might only like her because she doesn't look at me with pity? real funny, ha-ha. can i stop being your laughingstock now?"