Passion '2 (15+)

"Remember when I promised to love you forever?"

"Yes?"

"Forever isn't over yet."

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78. Miss. M

 

A woman with brown straight hair, that was hanging loose around her face, rushed down the hall, talking with a loud and hectic voice. Her sobs made me look up from my place on the chair, where I sat in the waiting room. I hadn't met her before, that was for sure, but something about her seemed so familiar. I sat in silence on the chair, watching the scene. The doctors trying to calm the lady down, and the lady crying and craving to see her... Son.

Now it hit me who she was. The woman that I had wanted to meet when I had been younger, but never had gotten the chance to meet. The woman that had raised Zayn from when he was a little boy, to the man he was today. His biggest support. 

My eyes widened slightly. 

A male doctor put a hand on her shoulder, to calm her down. "Miss. Malik, I need to tell you to calm down, or you will have to leave," He spoke calmly, and looked directly into Miss Malik's eyes. "B-but-" Miss. Malik stuttered, and looked at the white door, that was the only thing to keep her from her beloved son. Her eyes were fearfilled, and at that moment I swore that I never had seen anyone as scared and sad as her. 

"He is alright, but he needs to rest. You can see him tomorrow, after lunch," One of the doctors calmly convinced Miss. Malik, as he placed a hand on her shoulder. 

I swallowed, as I realised that the doctor only had said that to calm her down. He was unsure, but too professional to show it. 

Miss. Malik's eyes moved away from the door, and back to the doctor. It took her a few seconds to understand what he had said, and then she nodded. He told her that she could take a seat on the chairs, and for the first time since they had arrived, she looked my way. 

Our eyes met. We looked at each other for a few seconds, until I ripped my eyes away from her, and turned to look down at the Vogue magazine that had been lying open on my lap ever since I had sat down. 

"Thank you," Miss. Malik whispered, and sat down on a chair some seats away from me. A tension grew in the air, like we both knew that we should speak, but none of us knew how to start, or what to say. We both knew that we were here because of the same reason, but we didn't know each other.

I forced my eyes to run over the endless sentences written on the write pages under the pictures, in the magazine. When I sat there, nothing I read stayed in my mind. It was like reading, without actually reading. My eyes just scanned the pages, while my thoughts were leading to the woman that sat some seats away from me. The woman that I could have met when I was sixteen, but never got the chance to. A woman that I had wanted to meet badly six years ago, but today things were different. I didn't want to meet her like this. It felt so terrible to have to meet her, when her son was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. When I sat here, fighting the feeling of guilt for what had happened. 

I still believed that this was my fault, though I tried not to. But I knew that if I had stopped him from leaving, he wouldn't be close to dying now. I wouldn't be torn apart, and this mess would never have happened. 

Yet a part of me told me that I didn't have anything to do with it, cause I had tried to make him stay. 

 

I closed my eyes, in a try to shut out the emotions that took over me again. The emotions that had been numb since I had stepped into the police car, came back now. Overwhelming me. The memory of his car, and the damage on it, tore me apart. The memory of the police men, the people, the doctors... Him.

 

Heart beats harder. 

Time escapes me.

 

I breathed in deeply, fighting the urge to break. Fighting the tears that threatened to escape my eyes if I dared to open them. My hands gripped harder onto the edge of the magazine, as my heart started beating faster in my chest. I knew that I couldn't numb the pain for a long time, and I had clearly numbed it for too long. It was starting to show again. Cutting me open, like razors to wrists. Which took me back to a time six years ago, when Zayn had seen me cry for the first time. Along with that memory followed a thousand others. Some of them made a little sad smile grow in the corner of my lip, while others made it hard for me to breathe. Minutes passed, where all I could think about was him, and me. Us. 

I slowly forced my eyes open, and could feel the first salty tear roll over the edge of my eye, and down my cheek.

 

 

And the tears stream down my face. 

If we could only have this life for one more day.

If we could only turn back time.

 

I fast wiped it away, and bit down onto my lowerlip hard. 

 

"Excuse me?" A voice sounded from my left. 

I looked up in surprise, to find Miss. Malik looking at me. Her head was leaned slightly to the side, as she studying me, trying to place me. "Are you here to..." She started out, but her last words faded out, while a knot build in her throat. I nodded, but decided not to leave her alone to speak. Cause I pretty sure that she needed someone to cheer her up, more than I did. 

Because there was a difference between losing a son, and losing a lover. 

"I don't know if you know me," I mumbled, trying to get control over my voice. "I dated your son some years back..." I held a pause, to let the words sink in, "And we're together again," 

"Oh... You are Emily?" She asked. 

I nodded. 

"I thought you looked familiar. I have had a hard time making Zayn stop talking about you," She smiled slightly, trying to light up the atmosphere. My cheeks turned slightly red, but the words didn't do me good... When I sat there, all they did was break my heart. 

 

 

There's a numb in my toes.

Standing close to the edge. 

There's a pile of my clothes,

at the end of your bed. 

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