I would like to let you know that Southern Belle is a finalist in the Watty Awards Humor: On the Rise. I would appreciate it if you voted for me :* (well, if you like the book).

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Pacing back and forth across the width of this minute waiting room, I ran my fingers through my tousled mane. When the fuck were they going to let me see him? After checking my watch for the billionth time in a row, I sighed angrily after seeing that there wasn't a change in time.

Everything was going so slowly.

And no one was here to ease this pain.

As I pivoted around on my heel to start the pacing process from the beginning, a quavering voice called my name. Scanning the room, my eyes fixed onto a petite woman with a baby, about two months old, snug in her arm. Her ex-spouse's arm was draped across her shoulders, acting like a blanket.

"Belle?" my sister, that woman, murmured in a confused tone as she took three steps forward cautiously; she was acting like I was a caged animal threatening to attack at any sign of threat. Like a magnet, I repelled from her movements and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

Chase coughed three or four times into the sleeve of his shirt before sending me a sympathetic half-smile. Glancing over at my sister, he sent her an exact replica of his last smile before placing a chaste kiss onto her right cheek. He jammed his hands into the front pockets of his trousers before swaying over probably to the nearby cafeteria.

"What are you doing with...him?" I spat out, my hands gripping at my sagging sweatpants. When I had left this place with Nick a little while earlier, Mel and Chase were through. Now, she had jumped back into his arms.

She pouted. "I should be asking you almost the same question. What are you doing here, Belle? You're supposed to be at school right now."

A pang appeared in my chest when she mentioned my personal form of hell. Grimacing, I shook my head to clear my thoughts of the prior event. No need to deal with that right now.

"Mel," I muttered, "you could do so much better than that jackass over there. It's one thing to be an idiot, and it's another thing to be a cheater. Don't you see that you deserve much better than this? Or do you think too lowly of yourself to actually believe that you could do what's best for you and your children?"

The harshness of my tone nearly knocked her off of her feet. Eyeing me with disbelief, she bit her lip, attempting to stop it from quivering. I could see it though, and for some reason, I didn't have the need to apologize for what I had said.

Maybe because I meant all of it.

Inhaling slowly, she began rocking her newborn back and forth. She refused to stare at me in the eye for a few seconds because her feelings were slightly damaged by what I had just told her. "I know you just said that out of anger for what you've been dealing with today and--"

"I'm saying it because it's the truth."

She huffed in defeat. "And I won't take your statements to heart. Let's stop talking about me, okay? Let's focus on Ash right now."

I couldn't disagree with that.

Nodding, I shut my mouth before another snappy comment could expel out of my mouth. My stomach then grumbled, and I decided to go grab a bag of chips from the vending machine. The last thing I needed right now was for me to pass out from starvation.

My hand slipped a dollar out of my butt pocket, and I casually made my way to the mustard yellow machine in the upper-left corner of the waiting room. As I passed by other families, I tried as best as I could to not look them in the eyes since most of them were sobbing.

Biting my lip to hold in a few cries of my own, I jammed in the dollar into the slot of the candy machine and pushed the red button below that. The dollar only went into the box for a few seconds; it then popped out of the hole like a jack in the box. Flattening out the bill by sliding it left and right ontop of the edge of the vendor, I tapped my foot as this mundane activity was taking me ten times longer than it should have. Once the dollar became almost pin-straight, I pushed it into the money-stealing machine. However, like before, the bill slided out.

"Dammit! Just eat my money," I hissed under my breathe as I inspected the bill for any creases or wrinkles.

Right before my hand could jam the piece of paper back into the vendor, the whispered and dull voice of a doctor caught my attention. My head turned, so out of the corner of my eye, I could hear the event unfolding in front of me.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson?" A young man, probably a few years older than me, stated in a monotonic tone as he waited patiently for a man to help his trembling wife over to him. From what I could tell, he looked emotionless, statuesque even.

"That's us, sir," the man choked out, now rubbing the back of his wife in a rhythmic pattern. His spouse, curled into his shoulder, let out a loud cry.

The young doctor looked at the couple with a blank face. Clutching onto the clipboard in his hands even tighter now, he gulped slightly. "I," he paused, trying to hold onto his composure, "I tried everything that I could. I'm sorry, but your son did not make it."

The petite wife with brown hair peered up from her partner's shoulder before gripping onto his sweater even more. At first, her mouth began moving slowly, and the words did not come out, but as she became more panicked, she began screaming.

"No! He's not gone! Jason was just giving me a hug a few hours ago! Stop lying!" she yelled. Her voice, raspy and broken, rang throughout the chaotic waiting room. Although she was screaming her head off, everyone else was too engulfed into their own problems to pay attention.

Except for me.

"I'm sorry," the doctor coaxed. His left hand fidgeted at his side, almost like it had the urge to touch the wife's hand to comfort her. However, when the doctor realized what it was doing, he speedily jammed it into his coat's pocket, and he stormed out of there, sending the Jacobsons one last sympathetic look.

How often did that doctor have to utter those words? Did he say them every hour? How long did it take for him to master his emotions, so he wouldn't break down, along with the families receiving the news? 

Would he come out and tell me the exact same thing? 

Shaking my head to rid my mind of those upsetting thoughts, I smacked the stupid dollar into machine, and like the last two times, it was rejected

"Fuck it!" My right foot collided with the bottom of the machine; I fell backwards onto my back. Grabbing onto my foot, I cursed in agony while my head was resting on the pale white, tiled floor.

This was too much.

Frrom the corner of my eye, I could see a tan hand extended out towards me. Interlocking our hands together, the hand yanked myself to my feet, and instantly, my eyes connected with the owner of that hand.

Evalyn.

A tissue dabbed her bottom eyelid. "I was surprised to see you here. Sorry we couldn't make it quick enough. We were two hours away camping, and when we heard the news, we sped back here."

"I'm glad you're here."

She smiled softly. "I did this for you. I did this for Hunter and Ash."

Combing loose strands behind my left ear, I placed my free, frail hand onto hers. In response to my action, she gingerly placed her other hand onto my second hand. We didn't have to say anything since we both knew what each other meant and felt.

This was what best friends did for each other.

The soft voice of a doctor calling Ash's last name startled me out of my friend's grip. Sending me another reassuring smile, she locked our hands together again and pulled me towards the same doctor that I saw before.

Was he delivering the same message?

As we, along with Mel and Ash's parents stood before the doctor, a large grin spread across his face. Moving his head down and up rapidly, Ash's mother nearly leaped into her husband's arms while Mel began sobbing into her hands.

"Why are you smiling?" I asked angrily, swaying my arms in the air as I tried to grab anything in sight out of frustration. "This isn't a happy matter!"

"Oh," the doctor sighed, "it is. Ash beat the odds against him and survived the surgery. He just woke up; he's fine. We're keeping him here for a few days, but he'll be good as soon in a few months."

Thank God.

I didn't know whether to dance or to start weeping on my knees. I was happy and jittery at the same time--two strong emotions mixed together. It took a few more moments for his words to finally register, and when they finally did, my lips stretched from ear to ear.

My Ash was okay.

"And, I'm assuming you're Belle, his girlfriend, am I correct?" he asked politely, rubbing his hands together since he found his question to be quite awkward. "Ash was asking for you in his sleep. When he woke up, he actually asked for a phone to call you since he said you were studying in Stanford; he even described you to me. When I saw you in the waiting area, I decided that it would be better for him to see you in person rather than call you."

He wanted to see me? At this point, I didn't care whether he told the guy I was his girlfriend or not! He could've told the doctor that I was his prostitute, and I still would've been ecstatic!

Once I nodded in agreement, the doctor pointed to a chestnut-colored door, about six doors down from where we were standing. Flattening out my ratty T-shirt to look somewhat presentable, I inhaled to calm my nerves.

It was only Ash.

 Ash who just survived against all odds.

Right before I opened the door, my lungs took in another long, deep breath. Hopefully, my face wasn't too pale and disfigured after the long flight and wait. Mentally cursing myself for being a little coward, I gripped the silver handle of the door and opened it in one push.

Finally.

My eyes scanned the room around me. It was white--not on off white but a clean, snow white. Besides a few machines and a random red chair in the corner of the room, it was really a vacant space. This was definitely not a room where someone would want to spend more than a minute in.

And right in the middle of the room, Ash was lying down on the bed with his arms crossed in front of his chest. There was a gigantic gash across the left cheek of his face and a few other minute cuts and scrapes. His left arm had a cast on it, and I could see that his stomach was heavily bandaged; his right left was also in a cast.

Tears began cascading down towards my feet, and like a cheetah, I sprinted over to the side of the bed. Making sure not to hurt him, my finger gently traced the contours of his face. "Ash," I choked out, my mouth unable to form coherent sentences.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you would leave school for me. I was hoping that nobody would call you before I got out of surgery, but I--"

My hand, now in front of his face, shushed him. "I'm glad I came. Ash, you mean a lot to me, and I want you to know that. I know we haven't talked in a month or two, but you're still one of the most important people in my life."

He stared at me, resembling someone that was watching paint dry for the fourth time in a row.

"And," I continued, "I realized how short life is. You could've died, Ash."

He smirked. "I'm aware of that."

Ignoring his comment, I shuddered as I thought of what could have happened. "And I realized how much you mean to me and how much we have to live in the moment. Who cares about school and grades? Fuck that! Let's go get married in Las Vegas and have kids, Ash. I don't care about anything but the present." By this point, sobs kept rolling out of me, and the injured man had to console me instead of me consoling me.

Ironic.

When peered up from my arms, the man beside me bit his lip. Although he attempted so hard to hide his joyous emotions, a little smile appeared. "Belle, you don't know how long I've been waiting for you to say that."

Leaning over, I giggled childishly before my lips collided with his hand.

"But," he groaned, almost like it was painful for him to utter the next words, "but we can't go run off and get married."

My eyebrows furrowed, and my bottom lip jutted outwards. Right when my reaction to his statement was revealed, Ash quickly panicked and placed his good hand onto my cheek. "Not that I don't want to be with you! It's just that I'm in almost a full body cast, so we can't travel to Vegas, and more importantly, you need to go back to school. That's your dream--I don't care if you're failing; you need Stanford more than you need air. I think that you can do so much more with your life than becoming a housewife."

Was he serious? Rolling my eyes, I pouted. "Well, what if I don't want to go back to school. What if I want to stay with you?"

"Well, make the decision in a few days. I think you're just ecstatic over the fact that my body isn't lying in the morgue right now, and your emotions are clouding your decision-making skills. If you really want to stay by Monday, I'll let you have this body." He gestured to his broken body, licking his lips twice for comedic effect. 

He was such a nerd.

But he was my nerd.

I sighed in defeat. "You got yourself a deal, hot stuff. Now, I'll let you rest. You need it." Brushing my chapped lips against his cheek, he winced in pain before waving me a goodbye. My eyes flickered over to him one last time before I sulked out of the room. It was hard to say goodbye.

Once I exited, instead of seeing a blank wall before me, I saw a pair of smoldering eyes.

Eyes exactly like my own.

Mel's eyes.

She bit her lip, staring down at her newborn. "Don't be like me," she hissed, water slithering from her orbs. "You're better than me. Fuck, what are you doing, Belle?"

**

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AHHH. 3 or 4 more chappies left since it has to be done for the Watty submission due the 31st.

I'll upload wayyyy sooner if you vote and comment. ;)

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