Adelaide

I burst from the ICU, not sure where I'm going or how I'm going to get there. Well, I have my vehicle, so I know how I'm going to get there, but it really doesn't matter. No matter where I go, I'm never going to outrun these feelings. The hurt. The pain. The urge to go back to him even though he said what he did. All I know is that I need to get out of here.

With the tears blurring my vision, I wind my way through the busy hallways of the hospital, feeling hurt and hopeless and confused. What else did Justin expect me to do? I've never experienced someone having a seizure before. I've never met someone with epilepsy. He needed someone that knew what was going on and that someone was not me. It was the paramedics. I knew they could do something I couldn't in that moment: keep him safe and make sure he was okay.

But I didn't let the frustration of being utterly useless stop me; I followed the ambulance to the hospital and waited the full twenty-two minutes it took for him to wake up. And when he first woke up, it terrified me. He was so confused and unsure that, for a moment, I thought that maybe the seizure lasted too long and did some irreparable damage. But when he saw the IV embedded into his vein, I saw a hint of recognition in his eyes. I knew he was going to be okay then. I don't know much about seizures, but I do know that it has something to do with the brain going into something like override and using too much energy. I think that's what it is, anyway. We learned a bit about the nervous system in biology, but I'm so shaken up that I can barely tell the difference between facts and theories.

Averting my thoughts from the medical perspective of what's just happened, I think about Justin. I should be mad at him. I should hate him for what he said to me. I did all I was capable of in that moment and he made me feel like I did nothing, like I did something wrong. But I can't. I saw the defeat, the lack of motivation in his blue eyes. Hopelessness. Heartbreak. He's clearly been dealing with this for a long time.

I think back to the day I met him, when he was wearing his black hoodie and his ear buds were blasting music. It makes sense why he kept himself so guarded from everyone. Why he seemed like such a loner at the beginning.

I wish he didn't have to go through this. A boy like him, one that's kind and funny and fun to be around, doesn't deserve this.

Unable to stop another sob from breaking free, I lean against the wall of the hallway and let it free. This whole situation hurts like heck. His words hurt me, but so does this crappy situation.

I reach up to wipe my nose. I'm producing more snot than tears, which is something I inherited from my mom according to my dad.

Tired from everything that's happened today, I slide down to the floor and sit down, my back propped against the wall and rest my forehead against my knees. I try to take deep, calming breaths, but they don't work. The tears just keep coming with a greater force than before. People are probably staring at me, wondering what happened to me, but I don't care. The one person I want to hold me and comfort me told me to leave.

"Addie?"

I freeze at the sound of Mom's voice and slowly look up. Today, she's dressed in her dark purple scrubs and white Nike runners. Her hair is tied up into a bun and she's got a clipboard in her hands. She's also got a jacket on. Judging from that, I think her shift just ended.

Without thinking, I get up and rush to my mom. By the time I'm at her, she's ready for me. Her arms envelope me in a tight hug as I cry into her shoulder. I really let the sobs go this time. There's just something about being with my mom that makes this seem a little less bleak. It makes no sense, considering the fact that I'm crying, but I'm no longer lonely, sitting in a busy hallway and feeling utterly alone.

After a couple minutes she asks, "What happened? Why aren't you at the Winter Formal?"

"J-Justin..." I stutter. "I didn't know w-what to do and now he's mad at me. And..." I hiccup and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. I was in such a panic to get to the hospital that I forgot to grab a jacket. A shiver goes down my spine. It's really cold in here. "I called an ambulance and the paramedics didn't let me get in with them and Justin, so I drove down here and –"

I'm cut off by my own breathing. It's suddenly hard to breathe. I don't know why. And it's unbearably cold.

"Honey," Mom says softly, cupping my face. "Take a deep breath."

My breathing becomes more strained as my heartbeat takes off, fluttering madly against my ribcage. There's so much tension that it hurts to take deep breaths. A bead of sweat slides down my forehead and I look over Mom's shoulder, wondering if I'm going to be in the ICU after...whatever's happening to me.

"Look at me," Mom demands.

Through...through whatever is happening to me, I look up.

She tucks some hair behind my ear. "You are having a panic attack. Don't fight it. The best you can do is take deep breaths and let it pass. I'm right here with you."

"I need to leave," I gasp, clutching her shoulders. "Now."

Mom shakes her and pulls me toward the waiting area. When we get there, she makes me sit down on one of the chairs and I cringe a little – I must have a terrible bruise on my butt. She sits down beside me and pulls me close, whispering in my ear as I try to regain control of my body. "You can get through this, Addie. Concentrate on your breathing. Close your eyes and concentrate on loosening every muscle in your body; tense the muscles in one area and then relax them, and keep doing that until you've gone through every muscle."

Wanting this to be over, I follow Mom's instructions and squeeze my hands into fists for five seconds and then relax them. I keep doing that until my heartbeat has gone back to normal and my thoughts are clear again.

"So do you want to tell me what happened?" Mom asks.

I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about anything. I want to sleep off the aftereffects of this panic attack I had. I had no idea they could be so draining. Now I know what Dad felt like when he suffered from them.

But this is my mom. She's a nurse and probably knows a lot about Justin's condition. So I explain the whole story, starting from when we went to his house to get the amazing suit I saw him dressed in before he collapsed and ending with the conversation we had in the ICU. "Did you know he had epilepsy?" I ask at the end. "Because I had no idea."

With a sad look, Mom looks at me and says, "I did know. Helene told me and your dad the night of the Halloween party. She knew that you and Justin would be hanging out together and she didn't feel comfortable with someone not knowing about Justin. So she told us."

"But why didn't he tell me?" I ask softly. "I could've helped him."

Apparently my hair is all over the place today because she removes an elastic band from around her wrist and ties my hair up in a ponytail. "I think he wanted to tell you, Addie. He just didn't know how. From what Helene told me, he hasn't had many friends since he was diagnosed and the divorce happened. He's been on his own for a while now. I think you caring about him scares him because many people have left him behind when they've learned about the epilepsy."

I feel like an idiot. "How is it that you know more about my boyfriend than I do?" I try to make it sound like a joke, but more tears begin to fall.

Mom pulls me into a tight hug. "I went out for drinks with Helene one night and we talked about everything. Justin confides in his mom a lot – especially when he's feeling vulnerable."

"And he feels vulnerable after a seizure?" I ask.

Mom nods. "Think of it as running a marathon – you're absolutely exhausted after and you don't want to walk another step. That's how he feels after, but in this case, he doesn't want to fight anymore. And without the ability to fight, you feel vulnerable."

"Okay," I say, "I understand that. But why is he mad at me about calling an ambulance?"

"You're supposed to wait for five minutes when someone is having a seizure," Mom says. It sounds like she's stating facts from some medical textbook she read. "Five minutes is the limit. If it lasts longer than that, then you call an ambulance. A seizure longer than five minutes can cause damage."

I rub my tired eyes, smudging my damp mascara and probably making myself look like a raccoon. "I wish he would have told me. If I'd known, we wouldn't be in this situation right now."

"I know, honey," Mom whispers. "But you have to cut him some slack – he's been through a lot. I'm sure he wanted to tell you, Addie."

I stare at the large windows that give us a view of the road. It's snowing again. "Can you take me home?" I whisper, closing my eyes. "I need...I need some time."

"Of course," she replies.

Just by the tone of her voice, I can tell Mom is disappointed that I'm not running back into the ICU and talking to Justin whether he likes it or not. But I need some time to think, to make sense of everything that's happened. And I know I'm not going to be able to do that when I'm mentally exhausted.

Mom pulls me to my feet. "Let's get you home."