Chapter 38 Feeling blue

Chapter 38 Feeling blue
Maya's POV

"Code Blue. Room 312. Code Blue."

The words were still echoing in my head when my body started moving.

I don't remember deciding to run. I don't remember pushing past Justin or shoving through the nurses or anything except the door…the door to my father's room. The door that was closing. The door that was closing without me inside.

"No…"

I reached for the handle but a hand caught my wrist. Another hand grabbed my shoulder.

"Ma'am, you can't go in there…"

"That's my father!" I screamed. "That's MY FATHER…"

Hands, voices, machines. The hallway was chaotic. The nurses were running, equipment clattering. Someone was shouting numbers I didn't understand. Someone else was pushing a cart with a machine on it.

Then the door closed and I couldn't see him anymore.

"No…no…please…"

Someone was pulling me back, away from the door. Away from him.

No.

I can't leave him.

I can't.

He's alone in there.

He's alone and he's dying and I can't…

"Maya. Maya, stop."

Justin's voice was close. His arms were around me, pulling me back against his chest. His heartbeat was pounding against my back. Fast and hard.

"Let me GO…"

"You can't be in there. Let them work."

"He needs me…"

"Maya." His grip tightened. "He needs you alive. He needs you okay. He needs you to let the doctors do their jobs."

He needs you okay. But I'm not fucking okay. I haven't been okay for a long time.

And I don't think I ever will be again.

My legs gave out. One second I was standing, fighting, screaming. The next I was on my knees in the middle of the hallway, and Justin was crouched beside me, and everything was blurry.

Then tears.

I'm crying.

When did I start crying?

"I can't…" My voice broke. "I can't do this, Justin. I can't… if he dies…"

"He's not going to die."

"You don't know that."

"Maya."

He grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him. His hands were shaking. I'd never seen his hands shake before.

"Your father is the strongest man I know. He crossed an ocean for you, he built a life from nothing. He survived things that would have broken anyone else." His voice cracked. "He's not going to die in a hospital room while his daughter is five feet away. He's not."

He sounds like he believes it. He sounds like he's trying to convince himself.

I don't know which one is worse.

My whole body was shaking, my teeth were chattering. I couldn't stop.

"This is my fault," I whispered.

"What?"

"This is my fault." The words came out like a confession. Like something I'd been holding inside for days, weeks. Forever. "If I hadn't gone after Sarah… if I had just kept my head down… if I had stayed here with him instead of running around with you…"

"Maya…"

"If I had been a better daughter… if I had been there when he needed me… if I had just… just…"

If I had been better.

If I had been different.

If I had never come to Westbrook.

If I had never met Sarah.

If I had never been born…

"Stop."

Justin's voice was sharp and very hard. He grabbed my face in his hands and forced me to look at him.

"You listen to me right now. Do you hear me? Look at me."

I looked at him. His eyes were red, his jaw was tight and his chest was heaving.

"Your father is in that room because his body is weak, not because of you, not because of Sarah and not because of anything you did or didn't do." He shook his head. "And if he walks out of that room and hears you blaming yourself for this… it'll kill him faster than whatever's happening in there right now."

The words landed like stones.

It'll kill him.

Me blaming myself will kill him.

Because he loves me.

Because he's always loved me.

Because I'm all he has.

And I'm falling apart.

I wanted to say something. To apologize or explain. Tell him that I didn't mean it, that I was just scared, that I didn't know how to be strong anymore.

But the words wouldn't come. So I just sat there, on my knees, in the hallway. With his hands on my face and his eyes on mine.

And I cried. The ugly kind of crying. The kind that makes your whole body shake. The kind that comes from somewhere deeper than sadness.

Everything inside me was cracking apart at once. My lungs burned like I was breathing underwater.

The weight of everything I've been carrying.

The pictures, the videos, the whispers, the threats. Sarah's smile, Chloe's betrayal, Cynthia's cruelty.

Papa collapsing.

Papa in that room.

Papa maybe…

No.

Don't think about it. Don't even think about it.

Justin pulled me into his chest. His arms wrapped around me and his hand pressed against the back of my head.

"I've got you," he murmured. "I've got you, Maya. I'm not going anywhere."

He's not going anywhere.

He says that.

But everyone leaves. Everyone leaves eventually.

Even the ones who promise not to.

Even…

Cynthia said something about a ring.

"Ask him about the ring."

"Ask him why he really left."

What is he hiding?

What is he keeping from me?

Why won't he tell me?

Why…Why is he hiding it?

I wanted to ask. I wanted to reach out… I wanted to know what it meant.

But I was too tired.

Too scared and broken.

So I just sat there, in his arms, waiting in the hallway.



The door opened. I didn't hear it at first. I was too deep inside my own head. Too lost in the dark.

But Justin felt it. His arms loosened and his body straightened.

"Maya."

I looked up. A doctor was standing in the doorway.

She was older with gray hair pulled back in a bun. Her scrubs were wrinkled and her eyes were tired. She looks like someone who has seen too much, like someone who has delivered too much bad news.

No.

Please.

Please don't…

She walked toward us. Her footsteps were slow and she wasn't smiling. Doctors smile when the news is good, right?

Bad news. Ohh no.

She's walking like someone delivering bad news.

No.

No, no, no.

"Miss Sandoval?"

My heart stopped.

"Miss Maya?"

The world held its breath.