Justin

I'm disoriented when I wake up. Confused and exhausted. For a moment, I wonder if I was assaulted during an armed robbery and had my head smashed into the pavement of a parking lot.

Images blur around me, moving blobs of nothingness.

Noises combine together to create nothing but white noise.

The weird fabric surrounding me is itchy.

An antiseptic smell is making my nostrils burn, but in the next breath, I smell vanilla and cherry blossoms.

There's a bitter taste in my mouth.

My senses are all over the place, like they can't quite figure out their proper placements.

I'm weak, too. My muscles are rubbery, like they'll bend whichever way my will desires them to. And I feel if someone were to poke at my skin, their fingers would go right through it like plastic wrap.

I close my eyes, trying to embrace the tiredness. I don't know where I am or how I got here. I'm exhausted. I need some sleep.

And I do start to fade, but something brushing against my hand jolts me back to consciousness.

Groaning, I open my eyes. Hovering above me is a girl with dirty-blonde hair and big blue eyes that remind me of cornflowers. There's a crease between her eyebrows and she looks exceptionally worried. In fact, I think she's been crying – her eyes are red and puffy. But through the worry and puffiness, she looks vaguely familiar. I have this tugging feeling in my heart that makes me think I know her.

"Justin?" she asks, her voice hoarse.

I reach up with a hand to rub my tired eyes but stop in midair. I frown. There's an IV in the back of my hand and the sight of it causes certain things to click together – I now understand why the sticky potency of antiseptic is clouding my nose, and why the bedsheets are so scratchy.

I'm in a hospital.

"Justin?"

I turn my attention back to the girl, catching a whiff of the vanilla and cherry blossoms again. There's also the tang of musk. I know this girl. I have to or else I wouldn't be feeling such a strong tug of familiarity.

"Justin? Are you okay?"

The girl looks over her shoulder as if she's searching for a doctor. When she looks back at me and our eyes connect, the rest of the fogginess fades and everything that's happened today replays in my head.

Adelaide Levesque. My girlfriend. I went to her house because it was easier for Zander and Sophia Clarke, her cousin, to pick us up and head to the Winter Formal. That's what we were going to do tonight. That's why Addie is standing beside this hospital bed and looking sexy as hell in her black dress.

And I'm the reason her mascara has started to run. I'm the reason why we're not at the Winter Formal right now.

We're in a hospital and that means Addie knows the one thing I wanted to keep from her.

"Justin," she repeats. "Talk to me. You're scaring me. W-what happened at my house?" She stops and shakes her head. "No – I know you had a seizure, but are they common? I know they can spontaneously happen sometimes for no reason."

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the anger. Mood swings are a post-seizure side effect, but that doesn't, in any way, support my response. Addie had no idea about my condition. Hell, she's probably never met anyone with epilepsy. Though it's more common than one would think, it seems as though every person I meet has never met another person with the same problem as me. "Why the hell did you call an ambulance?"

Addie's face falls. "Justin...I-I didn't know what I was supposed to do." She bites her bottom lip. "I'm sorry. That...It terrified me, Justin. I was so worried about you."

"Those are the best excuses you can come up with? That you were worried and you didn't know what to do with someone who has epilepsy? Pathetic." My last word ends in a mutter, and I grip the scratchy sheets tightly to try and harness some of my anger.

Addie looks like she's been slapped. "What else was I supposed to do?" she chokes, fresh tears streaking her cheeks. "You didn't tell me you had epilepsy. Why?"

I clench and unclench my fists around the sheets. I wanted to feel normal for once in my life. I wanted someone who wasn't going to tell me that things will eventually get better when we know they really won't. I needed to remember what it was like to live a life I wanted.

"You could have told me," she whispers, wiping at her tears. "It wouldn't have changed anything. I – "

I snap. "Wouldn't have changed anything. Really, Addie? What would you have thought of me if you knew about my condition? Huh? Would you have wanted to be with someone like me? Someone that's a hazard to himself and the people around him? Because if that's what you think, that nothing would have changed, you're fucking blind. People like me don't end up with people like you." I rub my face aggressively, wishing this fucking IV could be taken out. Why do I even need it? It's not like I've got a surgery scheduled for later today.

Addie, who now has silent tears down her cheeks, looks down at the floor. "If...If you knew it wasn't going to work, then why did you kiss me? Why did you play along?"

Because I love you.

"Because I wanted to know what it felt like to be normal. Even if it was just borrowed time."

"That's not true," Addie chokes. The look on her face kills me, tears me up on the inside. It's like I'm seeing her heart shatter into a million pieces. "I know you have feelings for me, Justin. But what I don't know is why you didn't tell me. I can understand not telling me within the first month – you were still getting to know me. But now? After all the stuff we've done? You could've told me!" She's yelling at me now, tears pouring down her pink cheeks. Using her hands, she gestures at the ICU. "If I had known, this could have been prevented! I would have understood what to do."

"That's the thing, Addie!" I snap, my eyes burning. "No matter how many times I explain what it's like to people, they never understand. I'm sick and tired of telling people over and over again what an aura is like or how a partial seizure works. And I don't know why they turn into tonic-clonic ones, but they do. People always tell me they understand, but they never do. You don't know what it's truly like unless you've experienced them yourself."

Now we're both crying. Great. The last thing I needed to do was make myself look weaker than I already am, but I've done it.

"And why can't you get it through your thick skull that I'm not like other people you've met? I know my parents were thrown into a different situation than yours, but they taught me how to take a step back and try to understand. But I can't try to unless you tell me what's going on, Justin." She gently takes my hand, the one with the IV in the back of it, and traces the square patch of clear tape that's holding the thing in place. "I want to understand."

I shake my head. It's pointless. I've had people try to understand, but when things get tough, all they ever do is leave me behind, lying in the dust alone. And I can't handle another setback.

"You know what, Addie?" I ask, dropping my face into my hands. "Just go. Leave. I don't want you here anymore." I rub my temples. I have a serious headache – especially on the left side of my head. It's pinpointed and throbbing.

Addie tries her best to cover a sob with a cough but fails, and because I'm a complete idiot, I look at her face. It's the very definition of heartbreak and devastation.

"J-Justin," she whimpers. "I'm sorry if I made you mad. But you need to understand that I just wanted to make sure you were safe and okay." She hiccups and wipes at the snot leaking from her nose. "I didn't know what else to do."

"No one ever knows what to do. Epilepsy is never talked about – that's why no one knows what to do. Unless you get it or someone close to you gets it, it's diminutive compared to cancer or other sicknesses. And you know what else? No one knows what else comes along with this fucking condition. The depression. The lack of medications that work. No social life. Everything's just fucked up." Resisting the urge to look at her, I focus in on the IV. "Just go," I whisper. "It's best if you go."

Addie lingers for a second and I feel a strong spark in the depths of my gut. A strong spark of hope. That she'll actually stay and keep talking to me, put up a fight.

But she doesn't. She turns around and walks away, her feet slapping against the floor as she walks away from me.

I want to call her back to me. But how can I after what I said? I've hurt her. I've hurt another person I love.

I love Addie. So much.

Sobs shake my shoulders and tears drip from my face, dotting the sheets. I'm shaking again, but in a completely different way than I was earlier. This is from the hurricane of emotions that is torturing me.

Why can't I let people in?

Why do I push them away?

Addie was worried about me and stuck with me even after I scared her. Yet here I am, alone in a hospital, wishing I had kept my mouth shut and explained everything to her instead of fucking myself over. Fucking us over.

All she wanted to do was make sure I was safe, but having someone care about me is foreign to my mind. Family members and friends have left me behind to stumble through life. They've betrayed me. Played me. And it makes it hard to believe that someone could actually care about me for who I am; that someone could look past my condition and insecurities and still want me.

I look up at the doors, hoping to see her.

But she's already gone.

I collapse against the rock-hard pillows, feeling defeated.

I'm done with this. With everything. I want to be not okay and break down until I'm numb.

So just like when I wanted to numb the pain with a razor blade to my wrist, I give in and break down, wishing that something would give; that things would get better. Wishing that Addie would come back to me and stay with me.

But I know that's not going to happen.

So I cry, letting the pain consume me.