in his arms
Chapter 6
My arms were shaking as my hands gripped the sink. I looked at myself in the shiny reflective glass mirror that stood in front of me.
My arms thinned out to the point where they looked like bones extending from my shoulders, without muscle. My once-twinkling blue eyes had been laid to rest and were replaced by dark circles, and I assumed the rest of my body was close to follow.
I brushed my aching fingers over my scalp, pushing my hair back. Or, what was left of it. It’d been falling out in patches, leaving bald spots scattered across my head.
As I removed my hand, I watched about eighty strands of blond hair float to the floor. It’d been collecting all over the bathroom now—on the tile, in the sink, in the tub.
Nausea suddenly overwhelmed my entire body. I’d been nauseas for the past few days, and it seemed the only cure for it was sleep.
I stumbled out of the bathroom, switching the lights off and hurling myself into my bed, cuddling up tightly in the sheets. Hospital beds were not the most comfortable thing, but it was enough.
Before I could fall asleep, I heard a knock on my door. I had my back to the hallway, so I couldn’t see who it was, and it didn’t seem worth rolling over for.
If whoever was there was important, they would’ve just come in, which was why I didn’t say anything after they knocked.
Sure enough, the wooden door swung open, and I heard a familiar voice. “Kaitlyn?” he whispered.
It was Anthony. “I didn’t say come in.”
“You also didn’t say stay out,” he told me as he shut the door.
I gritted my teeth, shrugging deeper and deeper into the sheets.
“I didn’t see you in the cafeteria today,” he murmured. “Or, for a few days, actually.”
“Nurse Martin gets my lunch now.”
“Well, I brought you a fruit cup.”
“I’m not hungry.”
The only thing I wanted was to be left alone.
“Can I turn the lights on?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m sleeping.”
He snorted. “You’re a brilliant sleep-talker.”
I heard him as he sat down in the chair beside my bed. The room was so quiet for a few moments, and I felt myself dozing in and out of sleep.
“You started chemo, didn’t you?” he asked gently, and those words alone jostled me from sleep.
I rolled over, turning to face him, and said, “How’d you know?”
“Well,” he started, but that was the only bit I got. I was suddenly completely overcome by an intense feeling in my abdomen. I was getting sick.
I sat up, too nervous to even speak or move, but the look in Anthony’s eyes told me he understood. He picked up the green bowl beside him and instantly shoved it into my hands.
Then, he did something that astounded me. Instead of darting out of the room, like a normal person would do, he sat beside me, and he brushed my hair of my face. All while I’m being violently sick. He rubbed my back gently and whispered to me, though I couldn’t understand him.
After I had finished, embarrassment took over my thoughts, as well as sadness, so I felt as my breath shuddered and tears rolled down my face.
He hugged me, pressing my cheek to his, and told me, “You’re alright, I promise. I’ve got you.”
I loved the feeling of being in his arms. His arms felt like home, like I belonged there, like they morphed perfectly to my body. Like they were made just for me. In his arms, I was healthy. Invincible, even.
And I loved it.
Whenever I hint around posting another chapter odds are it will happen no matter my mood.
So I'm already writing Chapter 41 of this story. I wrote these earlier chapters a long time ago, but it's so cool looking back on the past and kind of the building blocks of their relationship. Like, how they came to be. And I know, these aren't real people, but it's gotten to the point where they are to me. This is my most favorite story I've ever written, and yeah. I just hope you guys will like it as much as I do.
*I don't notify, please don't ask.*
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