CHAPTER 08

The doctor pauses for a moment, certainly waiting for my approval. I nod then casually to get it over with quickly. After asking me to locate my pains and note their intensity, he left some instructions for the nurses and got out of my room, promising to come back at the end of the day. Sophia, the young woman who came to my aid yesterday, in turn enters my room, greeting me happily. I have absolutely no idea why but I decided that I really liked this girl! Perhaps because of her soft face surrounded by smooth and silky black hair, her feminine but not seductive attitude or her always frank and bright smile. In any case, one thing is certain, the fact that there is no pity in his eyes already earns him all my respect.

She unlocks the wheels of my bed and leads me several floors below, where all the NASA machines are gathered to decide my fate. I'm having a terrible day. And when I say horrible, that's an understatement. My stomach has been empty since I woke up and I'm going to starve soon if they don't give me something to eat but nobody cares. They apparently need me to fast. I do blood tests, scans, MRIs, X-rays and still other exams whose names I don't know. I have to lie on this fucking bed without moving and I still have a terrible headache. Sophia promised me that she would give me a tranquilizer when we get to my room and since then I've been counting the seconds. After a long time, the fatigue begins to be so unbearable that I am literally a wreck.

I finally get back to my room after countless hours of torture. I hurt in every part of my body that I still feel. Sophia must notice this since she wastes no time giving me doses of intravenous painkillers. Luckily for me, the liquid didn't take long to take effect and I managed to doze off a bit. My dreams are marred by fears and a black wall falls on me when I dare to imagine my future. This anguish is so intolerable that I force myself to regain consciousness, preferring a hundred times better to suffer with my eyes open than to think of a life where half of my body would deprive me of my freedom.

When I emerge, a familiar softness coats my thoughts. I don't need to turn my head to know that Milan has returned to my bedside. I hate my body for reacting like this knowing that the man standing to my right no longer has any regard for me. I hate my heart for being secretly happy to have him by my side when he seems to have drawn a line under our friendship. And I hate my soul for not being able to hate him.

I gather what little strength I have left to face him. Milan is again sitting on this old armchair but this time, headphones are planted in his ears. Eyes closed, he soaks up every sound, every note, every vibration. That's what he always does when he listens to music. He presents himself without artifice to let her do with him what she wants. It is like that Milan. He is whole and he does not pretend. He totally accepts the fact that just a few musical notes can make him angry as well as cry. But today, I don't feel like admiring it like I always do.

-Milan.

Immediately, he looks up. Her azure pupils begin to detail me but I stop them.

-What are you doing here ?

He seems rather surprised by the distant tone I used but I don't care.

- I... I wanted to know how you were doing.

-Perfectly. No need to waste your day here.

Milan frowns but recovers quickly. He knows very well how I work. A heavy silence settles between the one who has no desire to be here but who feels obliged and the one who pretends to want him to leave while the loneliness terrifies her. But as always, our pride takes over. None of us dares to articulate what weighs on our hearts. Just because we always knew what the other was thinking doesn't mean we always told each other everything.

-Before leaving, I need you to explain a thing or two to me, I ask him without notice.

- Go ahead, swing.

I pretend not to be frightened by the answers that await me. Pretending is my thing.

-Where are my parents? Why haven't they come to see me yet?

I watch my friend look down and do everything to avoid my gaze. The moment I asked that question, his body froze into a solid block. After endless seconds during which my heart stopped, he raises his head and plants his pained gaze in mine. I'm afraid of the words that will hit me in 3...2...1...

-Ema... I... I don't really know how... they... they died.

My heart is breaking into a billion pieces that crash one by one at my feet in a deafening sound of silence. I no longer dare to speak. Or even breathe. It's impossible...I left them Saturday night before the ball, they were both sitting on the sofa, in each other's arms, watching television.

"I'm sorry to tell you like that, I...

- But... it's... it's impossible Milan...

He takes my hand. I find my best friend and he saves me from myself. Without him, I would have already opened the window to swing my head forward.