Chapter 2: Isabella

23-Year-Old Isabella: A few weeks before her 24th birthday

4 years have gone by so fast.

College wasn't as fun and relaxing as I thought it was going to be. I still have flashbacks about waking up and being taken to the hospital by a very regretful and tearful Jodi, but she is still my best friend, and I never blamed her for any of the trauma I went through.

Everything on top of the trauma just added to the stress. Constant preps for exams, the idea of becoming something other than a simple student or a nobody in a world where you are expected to have travelled earth just for a part-time sales assistant, the pressure it puts on newly grads, and these ideas I wanted to have to create a life for me and my mom always get thrown to the forefront of my mind because I don't want her working for so long. I want her to retire and enjoy her life.

I owe her everything; she raised me and stood by me when things became that difficult at college; she watched me burn myself out, held my hand when I cried, and pieced my heart back together when she knew I needed it most.

Experiencing what I have during college is a lot to take for anyone. After the caught case against Dean, which got thrown out because Dean Summers's father is on the board and managed to get all evidence swiped, was the worst. I received numerous threats, online and physically.

I was taunted by his friends and Dean himself, and the abuse I received from him before he transferred to another university took a heavy hit on me personally. Not to mention the hate I got online, which caused me to come off all social media, or the bruises I had to cover up from his friends when they needed someone to just hurt because why not?

That was me. I was she.

Once again, now that college has finished, I managed to complete a 5-year course in 4 years. I did well. I got my bachelor's degree in mathematics. I took 3 separate courses on top of the ones I had already chosen and got my degree in art and design, interior design, and also interior architecture to become a fine home interior designer and architect, which I was extremely proud of.

Managing to get through college and survive every inch of torment, having to give up my dorm room because my roommate asked to be paired with someone who isn't me, made me feel useless and lonely there, so I moved out of the dorms and studied on campus while living with my mom again.

I passed everything and got all of my classes signed off on; I got all the degrees that I needed, and I came 2nd in my class. Then my world fell apart.

My mother was diagnosed with a terminal illness, which threw me for a loop because she and my cousins, Cody and Evie, are all I have. Besides them, have absolutely no one. What hurt the most was knowing that she was diagnosed months ago and she only told me recently when I graduated from college. She explained that the treatment she was on wasn't working; it wasn't shrinking anything, and she gave up. I felt like she had given up because I wanted to try more. I needed to try more.

Walking into our home, I'm greeted by my mom's nurse walking towards the front door. I took two jobs just to help with her treatment, but when they told us her cancer was uncontrollable and wouldn't be cured, she told me to stop. She told me to stop burning myself out, but I don't know how to. I simply want her to fight this, but I know it won't work. A memory flashed back into my mind of what my mom said recently.

"Life will throw you over every obstacle it can do just to bring you down, mi dulce niña."

She's always called me her sweet girl. Always given me that little bit of motherly love above every other ounce of love she's given me. Even when I always felt I was holding her back from doing what she wanted to do.

"But know this. You have been through so much in your 23 years of life. You have succeeded when you didn't want to carry on; you have failed because you are only human, and you have given me such great pleasure in raising you to be the woman you are, my sweet, sweet girl! I have lived my life around you! I have been here for you because you are my priority, my world, and my time is nearing the end, but this will never be the end for me and you. You will carry on and be the greatest. You will achieve many things in life, and I will be one step behind you, guiding you. Loving you from above."

I sat there and cried. I cried because what else am I supposed to do? Be joyful about her illness? Be grateful that she's coming to terms with passing. Because I'm not. I am not and never will be okay.

Passing my mom's nurse, she stops me in my tracks with a solemn look on her face.

"Hi Miranda. How is she today?"

My mom was diagnosed 6 months ago; she was told that it was heavy and could be treated just to give her more time, but it wasn't curable. She took the pain of treatment so she could spend more time with me. She sacrificed so much and is still doing this just for me.

"Isabella, darling," she says as she hugs me. A hug so tight I can't breathe.

I pat her back, and I hold out my hand for her to take. Miranda is in her 50's, and she's been mom's nurse for the last 2 months. She's absolutely brilliant and goes above and beyond, which hurts more because I can't pay her more.

Not until I start getting good money, and then I will pay her more.

"What is it?" I ask her. I know what she will say, but I just need to hear it.

"She's running out of time, honey. You need to spend more time with her now." Her little remark should bother me, but it doesn't because it's the truth.

I avoid my home because it's the one place that I need to feel closer to my mother more than anything, but deep down it feels like it's nothing more than just a house. There isn't any music on, there isn't the scent of cookies coming from the kitchen, and there isn't my mom running to greet me when I walk through the door.

It's lonely.

Painful.

After saying goodbye to Miranda, I head into the living room to see my mom curled up on the sofa with blankets covering her shivering body.

"Hey, mom. How are you feeling?"

"My sweet girl."

Even her voice is hoarse from all the coughing or not talking; she's not the vibrant woman I know.

"Miranda gave me a telling off," I joke with her. My mom has always had a sense of humour, so when she doesn't smile or even bat an eye, I know what it is that I need to do.

If Miranda is correct and I'm on borrowed time with my mom, I need to start planning for things to be taken care of, and I need to start by calling my cousin first. I need her more than anything right now.

Pulling out my phone I dial Evie first. She's more than likely going to answer.

It rings three times before her voice comes through to the phone.

"Hey Izzy," she says and I can hear the excitement in her voice. "What's up"

"I got my dream job today. I got my dream job and yet I can't even smile about it and I won't be starting for another month at the very least"

"Why not?"

"Because I have something I need to tell you. Is Cody there?"

Her silence fills the phone but it's only briefly. Enough for me to notice the hold-up in her answer.

"No. We moved to New York 2 years ago, as you know, but he moved further out. Still in the state, but not with us." Her voice is above normal, so she can't be that bothered by it. Evie is the same age as me, but Cody is 28-nearly 29 years old.

"Izzy, what's wrong?"

"Mom's dying, Evie. She's... she's not got long left. She's got..."

I can't even finish that sentence off without stuttering and breaking down. Tears flow down my cheeks and under my chin. Telling Evie isn't because I need help with payments; I just need to tell her and Cody so they know that it will only be us at the funeral. I need her to know what's currently breaking me, because I can't keep the pain in on my own anymore, and it's not the words I say or the heartache I feel-it's her sudden inhalation of breath.

The silence that flows through the line. The pain we are both feeling right now.

"What! How long?" She asks so quietly.

"She got diagnosed 6 months ago; I found out 2 months ago when I graduated, and her carer said that it could be very soon," I say into the phone.

"Izzy... oh god... I'll be on the next flight out!!"

We ended the phone call after spending half an hour after her telling me she would be on the next flight sorting her flights out and emailing her work informing them that she was taking immediate leave and would keep them posted.

My eyes are heavy by the time I curl up on the floor next to my mom after giving her the medication to keep her calm and comfortable, and it's not until the morning light hits the room that I notice I slept all night and so did mom.

➿➿

Two weeks after Evie got to our house in Los Angeles, Miranda came in to inform us both that it's only now a matter of time and my heart had never felt heavier than it did then because not 24 hours later...my mom passed. She passed and left a gaping hole in my heart where her love and laughter sat. It hurts so much, and it hasn't even been a day, and I have never felt more alone and terrified than I do right now.

I've laid on the sofa with my mom's blanket, smelling her scent on the pillow she had been using and remembering all the happy memories we have had together. Will her scent ever leave this blanket? Will I forget what she sounded like in years to come or what she smelt like when I hugged her?

"Isabella, Cody will be here soon," she says as she holds me. She's held me together when I couldn't even be bothered to look at anything or do anything other than lay here.

I knew it was going to happen.

I knew it was time. Her time.

Yet the heartache and the pain I feel right now are gut-wrenching. The tears don't dry; they just keep on falling.

Heartbreak. That's all I feel.