Chapter Ten: The White RoomA Chapter by Not hereWhite; there was so much white in the hospital. White walls, white sheets, white curtains, white floors, white bandages; it was like Heaven, if Heaven was full of dying people and sick people and a boy who had just lost his sister and yet was being confined to a hospital bed. A white hospital bed. People came in and out of Michael’s room with regular ease, some carrying pills for him to swallow, some with bandages (his head was bleeding, or so they said), and even the occasional visitor with presents for him. Even though it was going to be a quick hospital stay, only a night or two, people insisted on bringing small presents, most of which were chocolate and other candy. Not that he would eat any of it; not now and not ever. Eating was the last thing on his mind and the last feeling in his stomach; instead, it was replaced by a sorrow too deep for words, like a dull throb where his heart should have been. As for his stomach, it felt like the bile rose higher every minute, until he thought for sure he would throw up. And yet, he never did. It would have made him feel better, to be honest. Pain, just pure, familiar, and terrible, would be a comfort. But, instead, he felt emptiness and loss, like he was missing a part of him that should never have been lost. Lilly was gone; she had taken her. That thought and memory had penetrated deeper every minute he lay here in this comfortable bed, driven inwards by emotions he longed to be rid of. He would give anything to switch places with her right now, and that was the truth. His mom, the one person who stayed all night and now most of the day with him in the room, had never looked so despaired. It would have been more comforting to see her crying, or praying, anything that showed emotion. Instead, she sat there, staring off into space. When he tried to reach out and talk to her, she did not respond. A part of him believed she could not even hear, and another thought she did not want to. Was it possible for thoughts to be so loud and overwhelming that they literally blocked out everything else? Now Michael was sunk into the mattress with his head against the pillow, eyes closed and content. A smile tugged at his cheeks every so often, while the dream played on inside his head. All reality was obliviated, at least for the time being. His mother sat, studying the ground between her toes, mind wandering into dreadful places that it would be better off straying from. “Bubby,” Lilly’s voice said inside his head. “Bubby, Bubby.” He looked up reluctantly from the bench where he was sitting, glancing towards the swing set with a Gameboy in hand. He had just bought it the day before, but this Donkey Kong game was quite addicting. “Huh?” Lilly, legs trying desperately to propel herself forward, complained, “I can’t swing; it won’t go.” Michael chuckled quietly and asked, “What do you want me to do about that?” She stared at him with an irritated expression, which only made her look more adorable. “Will you push me?” “Push you off the swing?” he said with a mock-gasp. “That’d be quite rude.” Lilly snickered, covering her mouth with a hand to hide it unsuccessfully, and responded, “No, silly. Push the swing.” Michael stood up with a sigh and dragged himself over, pushing the Gameboy into the pocket of his jeans. Standing behind the swing to Lilly’s left, an empty one, he began to rock it back and forth with his foot. “Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetops,” he sang at an agonizingly slow pace. “No, no,” Lilly said with an exasperated sigh. “Push my swing.” “But you’re on it? I can’t push it.” “You’re supposed to swing me!” she exclaimed. Michael shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, ya shoulda told me that,” before walking over behind her and pushing by the small of her back. She rocked her legs out, then back and forth at random times. She squealed with such joy that he could not help but smile as he continued to help her swing. “Yay! Look at me, Bubby.” “I see ya; I see ya.” Anyone at Pine Tree Park could have heard her, and seen her, but that did not matter at all to a kindergartener, although after this summer she would be a first-grader. Most kids seemed excited about the transition, but Lilly not so much. “This is fun! I can see Indy from here!” Michael shook his head as the swing began to fall back. It really was not very high at all. “Can you see Crystal’s dad working there?” “Who’s Crystal?” she yelled down between bursts of howling. “Nobody,” he answered. Not to you, anyways. A few minutes later, the swing was going higher than he felt comfortable with, so he hollered up to Lilly that it was time to slow down. Struggling to twist her head and see him, she shouted, “What?” About to repeat himself, Michael dashed forward when he saw one of her hands lose its grip and her small body start to fall backwards. Her screams, full of terror, filled the air while he leaped forward and extended his arms. It was not a high fall, but seemed like a thousand feet to Lilly. With a heave, Michael gathered her from the air in his solid arms and held her there. She had her eyes closed and hair laying over her face, but otherwise was unharmed. “I almost... Bubby…” Seeing her eyes well up and her lip begin to tremble, he calmed her and said, “It’s alright. You’re safe now.” On the walk back home, her tiny hand clasped in his as she walked along beside him, Michael heard her say quietly, “Thank you.” Her delicate voice was muffled by tears. Michael swung her hand back and forth while they walked down the sidewalk. “I won’t let you get hurt, so don’t worry about that. What you need to worry about is what kind of ice cream you want.” She giggled as he kept talking. “I heard they have a new flavor. It’s called …” White; now everything was white again. He shot upright in bed, the smile from his memories fading. He found himself panting, as if he had just finished a race. Sweat was already formed in beads on his forehead, which throbbed. A bandage was wrapped around, suffocating his mind and adding to the pressure of blood drumming through his brain. I won’t let you get hurt, so don’t worry about that. What a comforting, hopeful lie. He had let her get hurt; he let her get taken. In any sense or explanation of that night, last night, it was his fault everything happened. He had known the lady would come for them, and that week of peace was the momentary eye of the storm. Somewhere, deep inside, he had been certain of it, but had not acted. Now, Lilly was gone, and there was nobody else to blame. Except for the lady; she was to blame. A thought long nurtured in his injured, painful brain began to bloom and erupt into emotions and feelings. Determination, anger, purpose, hate; he felt all of them. Was it possible for strong love to breed deep hatred like this? Whether it was or not, he felt it. The thirst for revenge; only getting his sister back would quench it and solve his problems. A depressed mother, an emotional train wreck of thoughts, friends who could not help him through this struggle, and every other problem in his life would be fixed. He just wanted Lilly back, and She could not stop him from saving her. At that moment, the door to his room opened, and in walked Brandon, followed close behind by his parents. Looks of concern swept across their faces with such intensity it was astonishing. The two adults ran to his mother’s side and began to comfort her, offering to pray with her no doubt. Brandon, on the other hand, walked over next to the bed. Michael smiled at him weakly before a sudden revelation came to him. “Where’s Grace?” “She… she took-” Michael waved his hand, motioning for him to stop. He did not need the details or the full story; those two words were enough. Mixed with Brandon’s never-seen, sorrowful expression on his face, it was automatic. She took her. That is what he was going to say. That is why Detective Smith had said it was the second one that night. “I’m... I’m really sorry, man,” Michael said, uncertain all of a sudden. What was there to say? No words could heal a pain like that. Brandon’s parents were alright, of course, because they had a religion to reach for and a God to pray towards. Michael knew him well enough to know Brandon had not followed in the same path; now was a moment when that was as obvious as ever. If religion is a crutch, he thought, it’s very strong. And if it’s all a lie, it’s the best I’ve ever heard. Before, Michael envisioned himself alone in the quest, a struggle against the hideous beast that plagued them. Now, Brandon had joined; unwillingly for sure, but all the same. He was no longer just a side character. They were in this together; they were in this until the end. Brandon began to turn away, no doubt embarrassed of the tears clearly visible on his cheeks. Michael reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing him to look face-to-face. “We’ll get them back. I swear it,” he whispered, like a solemn promise. There was no shake and no anxiety in his voice; Michael knew what needed to be said and even more what needed to be done. Brandon nodded, gulping as if that would keep the emotions in. The assurance was not there. Michael stared straight into his eyes and once more said, “I swear it.” © 2015 Not hereReviews
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