I couldn't do it anymore.
Breathe, that is.
Every breath was like a knife to my chest, like my rib-cage was the size of a one-lane highway and my lungs were a semi-truck. Like my heart was the passenger and the driver had passed out at the wheel.
Because my driver really had passed out at the wheel.
Dana sat across from where I stood, laughing at something her brother, Lewis, had said. The machine next to her beeped low in the background, just loud enough to make us aware of it. I wished from day one that there had been a mute button on that machine, but the doctor had informed me that it was against some sort of regulation. I wanted to call bullshit but, well, it wasn't like I had read the handbook on how to argue with a white-coat.
I stared down at my clenched fists, biting my lip. The urge to excuse myself to the hallway to make a call was insistent, but I had already claimed to need the restroom three times and needed to make two calls to my mother and another to my sister--in the last half hour. I suppose I wasn't very good at hiding it. Dana was so much better at that than me.
Eight months ago it had just been her and me against the world, which is what it really had felt like. Our families had been supportive of our going out, but the kids at school weren't quite so. Back then, it was me reassuring her that we would be okay. That kids in high school were immature, and that one day we could move to a place where people were more-so.
But we didn't get quite that far.
"Arla?"
Glancing up at Dana, I became aware of a wetness on my cheek. Trying as nonchalantly as I might, I wiped the tear away with the back of my hand before turning a questioning stare on her. My curiosity was quickly curbed, however, when I saw the gentle smile on her face.
"It'll be okay, Arla," she reassured me for the hundredth time.
I couldn't speak. After a moment I excused myself to the restroom once again.
When did it come to this? When did it become her reassuring me that everything would turn out alright? When did I stop being able to protect her? When did everything change.
When did God decide to kill my driver.
And why did she have to die that night.