There was nothing more River hated, than visiting PearlGrove Memorial. Not for the sake of his loathing for Hospitals. Not for the lack of not knowing his Fate, or even learning that his Mother will most likely die.

But for his fear of losing her.

He watched as her still body lay on the bed, hooked to the Life Support Machine. A dreadful and dire sight, even more than it appeared just weeks before, when he last visited. Her skin pasty, almost like a corpse on ice. Only movement made, was by the various gauges and contraptions that River couldn't name. Hooked up to her body, with the sole purpose of keeping her alive long enough. In hopes that her eyes would yet again open--to taste light and life once more.

The beeping, whirring and shifting of gauges and klaxons annoyed him. Agitating every fiber of his being, like a malignant ebb of nauseating encumbrance.

River couldn't dare not visit, knowing that she could awake at any moment. At least that's what he told himself. For every week, he was faced with the same sad, disheartening truth when he left. And that, was why he hated the visits more than anything.

His Mother, Rose Kennedi was once so beautiful. Hair as brown as the finest honey, now just bland and filled with perspiration. Her eyes that was once so filled with life, was lost--never to be seen again. For one terrible night two years prior, Rose suffered a terrible fate. Horrible enough, to have almost brought on her demise. Luckily, River was able to get to her in time and despite their rocky past. He saw to it that her bills had been paid, even though things had slowed down considerably for him.

Work was strenuous and overbearing. Bills came as soon as one was managed to be paid. A never ending chaos of adult life, that assaulted River. Claiming his breath, to a point of defeat. Yet it was a miracle he survived it all--despite not having dealt with it by himself.

"I don't want my last words to be, I hate you, Mom." River spoke, hoping that she could hear him. "But I hate that you've allowed this to happen to yourself."

River opted to place a margin of blame on himself. He felt he hadn't tried hard enough. He had failed her, and failed himself terribly. Allowing her to wither away from existence. Left to drown in her own sorrow, while River chased his dreams. Using one ludicrous excuse after another.

Yet deep down, River knew that whatever world she had escaped to. She was in a happier place--dancing in a field of flowers. Or quite possibly, falling in love and finding happiness. Something she couldn't achieve in the real world--despite not having tried.

"You're just as selfish as before, aren't you?!" River felt his eyes sting, with emotions so deep. Cutting through him like a freshly sharpened blade. Slicing through his skin, with such ease that it didn't hurt until the second the blade was lifted from his flesh.

"Leaving me here to do all this on my own." River sniffled, attempting to fight the overwhelming urge to cry. To rant, and to curse. To blame her for what had happened to her.

For what she had allowed to happen to him.

He was broken, and left in uncharted territory. Forced to tend to his own wounds--wishing she had hugged him more. Wishing she had found the motivation, to do better. To tell him that things would be ok.

But he was left all on his own.

Yet he couldn't blame her, even if she was to be blamed. Blamed for being careless, even after everything she had been through. He questioned himself every day, and it hurt him.

Why hadn't she tried to be a better Mother?

Why hadn't she tried to overcome her past, and rise above all that stood in her way?

Why did she have to overdose herself with drugs, instead of filling her mind with knowledge?

Was she that hurt?

Was she that torn up about her Parent's and Grandparent's death, that she only learned how to be miserable?

"I got the Internship," he chuckled, feeling like an idiot for just sitting there--talking to an unresponsive body.

At times, he felt as if he had been talking to himself. But he believed that somehow, she could hear him half the time. Nothing seemed to make sense in the world, until he was able to visit her. For in her comatose state, she listened much more than she had when she was breathing on her own. And he was grateful for that, even if it was deemed pathetic.

"I still have an hour to get there," he said, checking the time on his wristwatch.

A gift from his Mother, that had more meaning than he could comprehend. It told time, and kept him alert. But it saddened him, every time he peered down at the piece of accessory. Wearily emboldened by his apathy--coursing through his veins like the essence that kept him alive.

The door to the Room swung open, and River turned to face Dr. Hasan, a man of Arabian descent. Late fifties, with a fully bearded face, and a little on the chubby side. His white scrubs crushed, as bundled on him like a Bathrobe at a cheap Sauna.

"Mr. Kennedi, how are you doing today?" The Doctor asked, his voice annoyingly enthusiastic.

"Just as any other day, Dr. Hasan." River murmured, motioning to his comatose Mother with a nod of his head.

River glared at the pudgy man, almost daring him to say something harrowing. Yet River felt as if the day was yet to get worse.

"Any progress?" River asked, but the frown on Dr. Hasan's face was enough confirmation for River. "Don't even answer that. I come in here every week, and I ask the same dumb question. I'll just see myself out." River proclaimed, brushing past Dr. Hasan.

River was too deep in his own disgruntled thoughts, to notice that the man had something to say. Only he hesitated, knowing that it could further sadden River about the condition of his Mother.

Yet, he had to.

It was policy to divulge all updates.

Even if it was unpleasant to those it was told to.

"Mr. Kennedi," Dr. Hasan pressed. A sympathetic look on his face, so clouded that his next words were obvious.

"Is there something wrong, Doctor?"

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," Dr. Hasan nervously scratched the back of his head, and River's forced smile faded.

"What could be worse than-," River paused as he was about to display his annoyance.

Dawning realization drowned him. Forcing him into an abyss of worry and disappointment.

River hadn't been able to pay the last two bills. His shared Apartment with James, and School Loan payments sucked him dry. Destroying his once comfortable and manageable budget. He suddenly felt faint. As if the world had come crumbling down around him, for the millionth time. With the excitement of everything happening, and his interview. He forgot that he needed to pay it.

"The Board has voted to take her off Life Support," Dr. Hasan said, his gaze pitiful.

River hadn't noticed how dazed he had gotten. Until Dr. Hasan was steadying him, telling him that he shouldn't worry.

"Look, it's going to be fine." The older man assured River, but he was still lost. "All you have to do, is come up with at least a percentage of the Balance. That way, we can extend the date and we don't have to pull-,"

"Please don't say it." River pleaded, and Dr. Hasan sighed, nodding understandably.

"Just see how much you can come up with, by next week. I'll try to stall the Board, but I can only delay the inevitable for so long."

"Thank you," River nodded. Yet he was even more broken down than he realized.

"No problem, Mr. Kennedi." Dr. Hasan smiled, but River was too fatigued to answer.

He only spun on his heels, deciding to get as far away from the Hospital as he possibly could. So many memories came flooding back, and marauding River. An amalgam of vehemence. Malignant and exposing of his hurt and mental malady. Burrowing through him, like mole rats on the prowl. Looking for a new home, only to lodge themselves deeper. Deeper into his mind, with threats of corrupting his sanity.

He quickly checked his watch, ignoring everyone he passed in the hallways of the dreary Hospital. Thinking about the possibility of being late. Already dooming his own fate, and a Job already slipping from his fingertips. A job that could help him earn more money, and pay some--if not all of the Hospital Bills. Slowly piling up on him, like a junkyard being filled with constant truckloads of scrap.

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