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I can read your foolish mind
Going dark from time to time
See the writing on the wall
We can't be saved we knew it after all,all
Step one, try to explain your feelings, when that doesn't work, move on to step two.
Step two, throw things, fragile things, that always helps. Move onto step three once finished with step two.
Step three, cry, you’re going to cry a lot during all this, but that’s just human reaction, all chemicals and stupid equations you don't know because her major was Music Therapy. No amount of musical therapy will help her through this.
Right now Chloe Beale was stuck on step four, because that's the hardest step. The largest leap if you will. Step four, take your mind off of it. When the alcohol stops working, and the punching, kicking, screaming, and throwing things also stop working, you’re stuck with thinking. Thinking hurts more than any pain Chloe has ever experienced and she's broken many, many bones in her life. When she thinks, she's thinking about her. The way she would screw her face into a glare only to have it melt away into the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. And it just hurts.
Step four, don't think about it. That’s awfully hard since it feels as if it’s all her fault. Which, in hindsight, it really isn't.
When the red head thought about this before, she always pictured it eighty years down the line, when they were both old and decrepit. She did not think that maybe, just maybe, this would happen to at this young of an age.
Beca Mitchell was an unstoppable force in the music business. She had hit songs and she had hit mixes and she was enjoying her life up until now. Chloe shakes her head as if to throw the thoughts from her mind. No, Beca Mitchell is an unstoppable force in the music business.
The hospital walls are literally the most god awful shade of eggshell white that you’ve ever seen. It is tacky and really hurts Chloe's eyes.
The figure in the bed is small, and bunched up in what seems like an uncomfortable position. That is if Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale's wife, wasn't paralyzed completely.
The familiar burn behind your eyes causes Chloe to cup her mouth in horror. The doctors warned her that this was going to be hard, but she didn't expect it to be this hard. This felt like drowning. She feels as if the world has sucker punched her in the gut, and in the time it took her to gasp, it filled her with the most horrible tasting water. She is drowning in guilt.
Beca’s already pocket-size frame seemed impossibly smaller against the sheer beige of the hospital bed she rested in. Her father was currently visiting with his daughter, saying something so low that Chloe couldn't make it out.
Chloe's tears spill gently over her eyelids and wash down her cheeks. This wasn’t hard, this was impossible.
A voice clears behind her, and she rushes to wipe the tears flowing down her face before turning.
“Mrs. Beale,” the doctor says softly, “it’s time now,”
The words are like a knife to her heart, slowly cutting the veins and arteries that connect her. She feels detached, because this obviously isn't happening to her right now, this isn't real, this is a nightmare. A horrid, horrid nightmare. But the doctor gently nudges her and she walk into Beca’s room on wobbly feet. Beca’s father looks up with pain filled eyes, his face red and blotchy. You’re suddenly reminded of the time Beca first cried in your presence.
Beca didn't cry about really anything, but she cried when her mother died. Sobbed would be the better term. Chloe threw her arms around Beca and held on for dear life as she sobbed into your shoulder and shook uncontrollably. When she had cried herself out, she had the same face, red and blotchy in the same places as Mr. Mitchell’s face right now.
Step three, cry, a lot.
More tears slip down Chloe's face as more people file into the room. She takes up residence on the chair on Beca’s right, and Mr. Mitchell stays seated on the one on the left.
Aubrey stands quietly behind Chloe, her hand rests on your shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze every now and again.
Fat Amy stands closest to the door, and she can see the look of indecisiveness flash across her features. She steps out of the room fairly quickly, her voice shakes as she mentions something about a bathroom and Fat Amy is gone.
The rest of the Bellas stay silent, holding each others hands in a slightly deformed oval.
The doctor explains that the medically induced coma that Beca is currently in was supposed to be temporary, but after a few weeks of tests, showed no brain activity. Every part of Beca that made her who she was, was gone. All that was left was the shell in which she stayed in.
The doctor explains more into Beca’s condition but Chloe blocks it out.
Instead the red head's mind is thinking of much happier things, like her first date with Beca.
She had been hiding this irresistibly cute side of herself the one that Chloe adored. Inside the cold-hearted, sarcastic, beautiful girl held one of the biggest hopeless romantics Chloe has ever met. Beca had planned on watching a meteor shower with her on the roof of some old abandoned garage. She had snacks and music and candles and it was perfect. That was until it started to rain. Beca cursed every deity and, mother nature especially, for ruining her plans, but Chloe just smiled and kissed her softly. It may have not been as planned, but it was still the best first date ever. Chloe knew then, that Beca Mitchell stole her heart.
“I’m going to turn off the life support now,” the doctor interrupts your thinking, “Beca will either drift off quickly, or not so quickly.”
“How long?” Mr. Mitchell asks hoarsely.
“It varies, a few minutes to a few hours, sometimes even all night,” The doctor says solemnly,
Chloe gasps at that, and she wants nothing more than to be able to switch places with Beca. She just want to kiss her, and hold her, and have her throw some snarky remark about how sappy she's being.
That’s not possible anymore, though. Which breaks her down to step three, again. Aubrey pulls her into a standing position and hugs Chloe close as the nurses take the tubes out of Beca, pulling her away from the sight. She still hears them moving though, and she shuts her eyes and hopes that she’ll wake up any second now.
Chloe doesnt, however, and she's brought back to reality when the door clicks shut and Aubrey gently guides her back into her chair.
A few hours pass before anyone makes a sound or moves. But eventually, the Bellas slowly clear out of the room, save for Aubrey and Beca’s dad.
Her father was telling stories, reminiscing about Beca’s childhood. Aubrey would bend to check to see if Chloe was doing okay, but she continued to stare at Beca’s face.
The woman she loved so dearly, the face that makes her heart beat faster. The lips that kissed her own, the eyes that portrayed the love that couldn't be expressed in words. Beca looked peaceful, serene even.
A few more hours pass before Beca’s heart rate starts to drop, Chloe's eyes are torn from her face to watch the numbers on the screen slowly fall. Beca’s breathing is harder to hear, and she stands from her chair so suddenly it falls back against the floor, startling Dr. Mitchell.
That’s when she feels her throat start to close, Beca’s slipping away and there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t switch places and it was impossible to save her.
She leans down to lay yher head over Beca’s chest, her breathing becoming softer and softer, but more uneven.
“Becs, I love you so much,” Chloe chokes out, “I don't know how i'm going to function without you,” Chloe says, her tears staining the hospital gown Beca is adorned in. “I'm so sorry, I love you. I love you.” Chloe carefully presses a kiss to Beca’s hairline and smooths it over as she continues her mantra.
Chloe stays like that, chanting ‘I love you’ over and over again until she doesn't even feel the words leave her mouth. She’s not even sure she’s saying them anymore, but in her mind, she’s screaming them.
‘Why Beca, why did it have to be Beca?’ Chloe thinks, snapping her eyes tight at the thought. ‘Why Beca?’
Chloe’s eyes open slowly and her eyes drift to the monitor, Beca’s heart rate was dropping much faster, and Chloe gulped. This was it, she was dying, Beca was leaving her. Chloe felt as if someone had taken a hammer to her heart and demolished any piece that they saw. Chloe’s chest physically hurt, and the choked down the sobs that threatened to escape.
The monitor just beeped, slower and slower as time dragged on. Until eventually, the high pitched whine of the monitor drew the nurses and doctors in. One of the nurses shut the machine off, stopping the loud whining, but Chloe could still hear it. That noise is something that a person remembers forever. That’s the sound that haunts Chloe’s dreams at night. The sound of death.
And Chloe was welcomed to step three, all over again.
How is my heart suppose to beat
How is my heart suppose to beat
How is my heart suppose to beat
Without you