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Flight K-35542


The flight to the hospital took exactly 4 hours, 40 minutes and 22 seconds. 4 hours, 40 minutes and 22 seconds of Vic barely hanging on to his life and me crying over and over again. I was so scared and anxious. Fortunately, he made it alive to the hospital, very weak but alive. I hoped he would be okay. I couldn't lose him.

As soon as we entered the hospital, nurses and doctors took him away from me after our two heroes told them the whole story about Vic and me being the only two survivors of Flight K-35542 and how he have been stuck on an island for months. They put Vic on a stretcher and took him to the other side of this massive door where I wasn't allowd to go.

All I could do was pray that Vic would make it alive and that it wasn't the end for him. He was so young, he couldn't die just yet. Three months of fighting for survival couldn't end this way. He had to live. I knew he would, he's Vic Fuentes.

As the two amazing guys who saved us told our story to the nurses, people in the waiting room looked at me as if I were an angel or something divine. Everybody must have heard about the crash and how they've been seaching for planes and survivors for son long, but they couldn't find them. People must have stopped believing that they would ever find any survivors, that everybody on that plane died that day. But it wasn't the truth. I had been away for months and now, I was back. And I had survived. Vic had survived. We were some sort of miracles.

Nurses wouldn't let me stay in the waiting room since they didn't know if I was in good health and contagious. They didn't want me to be around anybody until they were perfectly certain I wasn't a source of danger and bacterias.

Two nurses wearing masks and gloves led me to a small room with white and grey walls where they examined me by making me go through a serie of small tests. They also cleaned me up from head to toe since I was very dirty, smelly and disgusting. It felt good to be clean, but I couldn't care less at the moment.

The few tests they made me pass didn't seem to indicate any bad signs of a sickness that I could have contracted on the island. I was fine and I seemed to be in good shape even though my previous three living months were spent on an island, fighting to survive. But Vic didn't seem to have the same chance as me. He wasn't okay.

Nurses asked me a few questions about myself: my name, my age, how I was feeling, etc. How did I feel? Was that even a serious question? Were they expecting me to say that everything was fine when I was anxious and depressed? I was worried sick about my boyfriend. I didn't even know where he was and what they were doing to him. They wouldn't tell me anything. They said a doctor would come in my room to talk to me as soon as possible. I didn't want to wait to get news. It was too stressful.

Vic might have been already dead at the moment and I wasn't even aware of it. They could not keep their mouth shut and keep this a secret from me. I didn't care if I wasn't part of his family. I had the right to know anything that concerned him considering the fact that I spent a little more than three months with him and only him on an island in the middle of nowhere where everyday was a different battle against life and nature. We were all each other had for three long months, he was all I had. He was my boyfriend, the love of my life. They couldn't not tell me.

I tried to insist the best that I could for the nurses to tell me how Vic was, but they said that it wasn't their job and responsability to tell me this kind of stuff and that I had to wait for a doctor who could tell me all the things I wanted to know. I didn't want to wait, but I didn't have the strenght to argue any longer.

Two scenarios popped into my head. First, I imagined the doctor coming into this room to tell me that Vic didn't make it, that he was gone. It would ruin me. My whole world would fell apart. I didn't want to live if I couldn't have Vic by my side. I needed him more than people need oxygen to remain alive. He was my world, my oxygen, my drug. I was addicted to him. He just couldn't die.

My second scenario was that the doctor would tell me that Vic had survived and that he would be okay. He would get out of the hospital and nothing would seperate us anymore. We would start a living together and I would never let him go. We we would moved together. Maybe we would even get married and have kids. My whole future evolved Vic. This is how I wanted things to be, we deserved an happy ending.

When the door finally opened, it wasn't a doctor. It was a woman, a beautiful woman. It was a lady I have missed for three months and that I was afraid I would not see ever again. She was there, we were reunited. It was my mother.

"My baby," she said. Her voice was the most beautiful sound I've heard in days. This was too good to be true.

She was crying, making me cry too. She was there, she was with me. She ran to my bed and took me in her arms, kissing my head all over again. I missed her comfort. We held each other so tight as if we were both scared that the other one would run away.

We did not speak a word. We just hugged as we cried and cried. As for me, it was a mix of tears of joy and sadness, mostly job. I was with my lovely mother who must have been thinking that her baby boy has been dead for the last three months and who finally found out that he was okay and that she hasn't lost him like she thought she did.

The door suddenly opened again. This time it was a doctor. That was it, the moment of truth. There were 50% of chances that I'd get good news and just as much chances that I'd get bad ones. I prayed for them to be good. I deserved good news, right? After everything I've been through, I deserved happiness, no?

"Kellin?" The Doctor asked.

"Y-yeah," I replied sadly, still holding to my mother.

"I'm Dr. Ashby, I'm here to give you some news about Victor Fuentes," he said.

"Okay..." I replied nervously. "Is he alive?"

"He is...for now.'' Dr.Ashby answered.

''For now?'' I wondered sadly.

''Yes, we found out a rare kind of venom in his blood. We tried our best to take it all out of his system, but since it seems it was in there for a long period time time...we are not totally certain if the antivenom we injected in his veins will do its job correctly. Only time will tell. He is currently in a coma... if he doesn't wake up in two days...he never will. It's a 50/50 her. I'm sorry Kellin. I heard what you both have been going through. I sincerly wish that he will wake up, but know that we did our best to save him, " Dr. Ashby explained.

My mother held me tighter after Dr. Ashby's little speech. I couldn't believe what he just said. Venom. Coma. 50/50. When did this happen? How did he get venom into his blood? Maybe some insect bit him while I was searching for food? I shouldn't have leave him alone, I shouldn't have leave his side. I should have been able to stop the insect from bitting him. There are so many things I should have done that I didn't.

I felt so guilty. We were supposed to take care of each other and I failed big time. His death would be my fault because I didn't take enough precautions to protect Vic while he was sick. He didn't deserve that. I needed to see him.

"C-Can I see him, please?" I asked sadly.

"Yes. I need to check something before I can allowd you to see him. I'll come back in 15 minutes and I'll take you to him, okay?" he answered.

With that, he gave me small sad smile and left the room. And I cried into my mother's arms. She tried to comfort me, but I was panicking. I couldn't stop. I didn't get the good news I was expecting.

Vic might die. He might never wake up again. I might never hear his melodic laugh again. I might never get lost in his eyes again. I might never feel secure in his arms. I might never get butterflies only his lips could give me again. But I had to keep a little faith. I needed to pray.

It wasn't over yet. Two days. He had two days to wake up and deep inside of me, I knew he would. Vic is a warrior, he is my worrior. He would fight until victory. In his case, life would be his victory. He wasn't done fighting, he was preparing himself to win.
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