Chapter 2- Devastat(e-of-mind)ion

Nolan Sawyer stands beside the hospital bed, his eyes closed, imagining what this eventual loss might mean to him. He is a young, healthy, Christian man of twenty-three. A heavyset man, 5'10 and weighing around 138 pounds. His features are dark. Skin of an olive aphotic. Hair of a dark auburn. Eyes of a pearly-sliver, and a hint of lime green.
     The episodic destruction of his inner mind had already began to appear obvious. Each piece of his sanity, crumbling fragment by precious fragment, and all over one person. He squints his eyes harder and clinches the hand of the man lying comatose before him.
     The window of the cubicle room is opened completely, and the chilly December wind rushes in with power frequently to splash over Nolan's worn, and the patients immobile, faces. Nolan opens his eyes slowly, and asks aloud with sadness,
"Where are you?... Where are we?"
although he is the only aware person there.
Oh, God. We need you. Help us...
are the class of thoughts slowly driving through Nolan's mind, as if he doesn't have enough stability to find any other words. He doesn't.
     "Give me an answer... How would I know?", his question goes unanswered as his eyes open wider and water.
"Nolan, are you talking to someone?", a voice from outside the room asserts. Nolan doesn't answer. He can only think of the same thing. It clouds his mind, leaving no room for other thought.
"What the heck man.. You don't need this crap.. You only need God!", he says to the damaged man lying on the hospital bed. No answer is given. No answer is expected.
Nolan lets go of the chilly hand and steps back to rest in the room's guest chair. He throws his face into his hands and begins to softly weep for a few moments.
     I still don't get it.. How could this happen? I thought I was helping..doing everything right I could. I should've done more...
Nolan rises and steps toward the bed again as he hears someone coming. He looks into the blank face of the man, and adds,
"I miss you..."
In the following moment the door to the room nudges open and,
"Nolan, it's time to leave. Doctor's orders",
is heard from his wife, Christina. Christina is a pretty young woman, twenty years of age, a thin physique and being  maybe 5'5 of height. Her hair is a light brown, and her eyes are a light brown aswell.
     Nolan looks up, staring out the window, in what seems like deep-thought. He finally turns toward the door, and walks out.
"Are you ok-", Christina asks, cut-off by a quick,
"I'm fine" as Nolan rushes past her and down the nearly-vacant hospital corridor.
"Is he going to be alright?", asks Doctor Charles, walking up on the incident.
Doctor Charles is an aging Atheist man probably around the age of his late fifties and early sixties. Gray hair, and a thick handle-bar mustache of the same color.
"I hope so", replies Christina, watching intently as her husband reaches the end of the corridor and turns the corner out of sight.
"Well a loss of a family member can be devastating, depnding on the relationship... How close were they?", he adds curiously.
"They're brothers, Mr. Charles, the closest you can find... and we haven't lost him yet!", her voice gains volume with the last statement, as she seems to have gotten angry at what Doctor Charles had said.
     "I..I'm sorry Mrs. Sawyer.. I didn't mean for your hopes to be shot or any-", is haulted by,
"Don't be sorry for anything. My hopes are not shot, and he will come out of this alive and prospering, as God plans."
With that, she turns and walks off in the same direction as Nolan.
They have no idea... Poor religious people... Run by emotion..hope. It's unrealistic in this universe.
Fact and logic only prevail. I'm afraid this time though, that fact holds a bitter taste,
are Doctor Charles finishing thoughts on the subject as he strides into the hospital room.

Author's Note

Same as for the whole novel.