The Days Go By

A girl dreams of visiting her friend in the hospital, while in real life he's slowly dying, but she's too afraid to visit him for real.

"Whats the deal with my brain?
 Why am I so obviously insane?
  In a perfect situation
  I let love down the drain." -Weezer



~Day 1~

  Mrs. Gale looked deep into our eyes, and I could see tears flooding them.
  "Christ Baker is in the hospital," she said, and the whole classroom is still, silent. I gulped, about to cry myself. My best friend, in the hospital. Maybe it's for something minor,I thought. But I seriously doubted it. One of my classmates spoke up.
   "Why is he in the hospital?" he asked, saying the question the rest of us were to cowardly to ask. Mrs. Gale pushed her long black hair behind her ear, and sighed.
    "He hung himself." her voice was barely above a whisper. My heart pounded in my ears, and I tuned out the gasps and whispers. Chris has always had problems. A little messed up. But not 'freakishly twisted' as the rest of the world thinks. He's just misunderstood. Everyone picks on him, and he's a social outcast. I'm his only friend, and I don't care what others think. He looks emo, with the black hair and tight clothes. But he's never cut himself, never written a page of dark poetry. He writes poems about sunshine, and dancing. He has a bitter outside, warm inside.
     I was interrupted from my thoughts when Mrs. Gale continued.
     "Chris is in the ER right now, and his condition is unstable.He's in a coma.  It will take a miracle to heal him." Mrs. Gale looked around the room, making eye contact with everyone, but it seemed like her eyes stopped at me the longest. "I am not telling you this so bluntly to be cruel, but to show you how serious the matter is." The atmosphere of the room had become very uncomfortable, everyone squirmed in their seats. She continued. "Chris is in room 205 in Hearthwood Hosptial, if anyone would like to visit him." Nobody would visit him, that I knew.
       "Okay. everyone get out your textbooks and turn to page 372."


  ~Later that evening~

   I chewed on my baked pasta slowly, deliberately. All I wanted to think about was the flavor in every forkful, and not anything else. My mom looked sympathetically at me.
   "Sweetheart, I heard about Chris," she said quietly. "He's such a sweet boy, he always looks after you. I remember in second grade when you tripped and fell, and he came rushing-" I interrupted her.
    "May I be excused?" I asked. She stopped talking, and nodded.
    "I think you should go visit him, Violet."
   "I will later," I mumbled.  I quickly dumped my plate in the sink and went off to my room. I collapsed on my bed, and cried myself to sleep.


      Everything was grainy, and the scene was jerky and low quality, like a home movie. I was sitting on a bench, in what appeared to be a hospital. Nurses and doctors walked swiftly by, pushing carts or carrying clipboards. I approached a nurse passing by, and softly tapped her shoulder. She turned around, looking annoyed. Her bright red lips were pulled into a frown. She clicked her tongue once impatiently, like she had somewhere important to go.
      "Yes?" she asked.
      "Uhm...Well...." I stammered. The nurse tapped her foot. "Can you tell me where I am?" I asked, feeling stupid. The nurse sighed, and pointed her manicured fingers towards a sign that read 'Hearthwood Hospital.'  I nodded thanks, and the nurse walked away, heels clicking. I gulped, and began walking down the hallway. I counted down the doors, until I found the one I was looking for. 'Room 205.' I opened the door, and stepped inside, dreading what I would see.
     There was a boy lying in the bed, looking half dead. His face was pale, dark circles under his eyes. There were billions of IV and needles hooked up to him. The heart rate monitor in the corner was showing that his heartbeat was irregular.
     "Chris?" I managed to choke out. No answer. He was sleeping. I gently placed a hand on his forehead. It was ice cold. I cried out an unintelligible  sound, somewhere between a cry and a yelp. His eyes fluttered open, his thick black eyelashes surrounding pale blue irises.
     "Violet?" he grumbled, barely awake. Tears slid down my cheek.
     "I'm here, Chris." I stroked his hand with my thumb. The door swung open, and a doctor walked in. Spotting me, he frowned.
     "Young lady, it is past visiting hours. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he said. I looked at Chris one last time. He smiled at me.
      "See you later, Violet," he whispered. I nodded, and walked out.


     Day 2

   I woke up, my cheeks wet and crusty. I wiped my nose on my sleeve, and sniffed. Looking around, I saw that I was in my same room, with my same mattress bed, same blue curtains, same faded white walls. I got up, and didn't bother getting out of my pajamas. It was Saturday, anyways. I shuffled into the kitchen, pulling a box of Frosted Flakes from the cupboard. Mindlessly pouring cereal and milk into the bowl, I wondered why I dreamed what I did. Usually my dreams are about me flying over buildings, painting the sky. Things like that.
    I was crunching my flakes when my mother walked in, in her business suit, ready for work. She sighed when she saw me.
    "Violet, you look like a mess," she said, her eyes inspecting me.
    "Gee, thanks Mom," I said sarcastically.
    "I think you should clean yourself up, then go visit Chris," She said, getting her purse ready. I groaned mentally. Why was she so obsessed about me visiting Chris?
    "I will today," I lied. She smiled.
    "Okay, I'll be back at six."
     " 'Kay." I waved goodbye as she walked out the door. Then I sat on the couch and watched T.V. for about three hours. I watched reruns of The Simpsons and flipped through the stupid shows they have on Mtv. It did keep me occupied though. I logged on to Myspace, and flinched at all of the updates that read 'OMG a kid committed suicide!' I wrote the mindless, ordinary, innocent sounding status of 'I'm bored' then took a nap.
     It was a dreamless slumber.
    

 
     ~Day 8~

 The days seemed to pass idly by. I avoided staring at the empty seat where Chris would've sat in. His condition is still unstable, and he hasn't woken up. I don't speak much, only when someone asks me a question. My mom stopped bugging me about visiting Chris. I think she's worried about me more. I have to constantly reassure her that I'm fine. But I'm not even sure about that.
  I haven't had a dream since that first one. It scares me.

   ~Later That Evening~

   I was sitting on my bed, writing out the impossible math problem that Mr. Harlow gave us. Scribbling away, I didn't notice my door creak open. My mom entered the room.
    "Violet? I have some good news," She said, and I put down my pencil. SHe continued. "Chris has finally gone into stable condition. He's not officialy out of his coma, but he's not totally gone." I smiled.
    "That's great news," I said.
   I go to bed smiling.


    I was back in Chris' hospital room, sitting by his bedside. Chris was awake, eyes open. But the rest of his body was still. I stood up, looking into his eyes.
   "Hi, Chris," I said softly.
   "Hey, Violet. You're back," he commented. I smiled.
   "You're looking a lot better." It was ture. His skin wasn't so pale, and he didn't seem so fragile.
    "Yeah. They put me on some new drugs. It seems to be working." He smiled, but I didn't see the heart behind it. "So how's school?" he asked. I snorted.
    "Suckish. Everyone gossips about you, and it sucks not having friends. I feel like a loser." He started to laugh, but that sent him into a coughing fit. He wheezed and sputtered. "Chris? Are you all right?" I asked frantically.
     "I'm fine-" he started to say, but he couldn't speak. His chest was heaving, shoulders shaking. I called for the doctor in alarm. He rushed in. Chris began twitching, and spazzing.
      "He's having a seizure," The doctor said, checking the heart rate monitor. Chris leaned over, and threw up blood.



       ~Day 9~

  I woke up suddenly, sitting up straight. I was breathing heavily. I shivered. What is going on here?



     "Yes, thank you Mrs. Baker." Mom hung up the phone, her eyes riddled with stress and worry. I gulped. This was probably not good.
     'What's up, Mom?" I asked bright and innocent. Mom turned to me, and sighed.
     "Chris is back in an unstable condition," she said sadly. My stomach dropped.
     "Oh."
     "I think you should visit him," Mom said softly.
     "I have to go to school," I said, and left the room.


      ~Day 12~


    Days meant nothing to me. I went about like a ghost. I have begun to grow invisible. Dreams are what I craved.

           I was back in the room, in the same chair.
          "Hey, Chris," I said.
          "Hello, Violet," he said. I sighed, and sank down in the chair. Time passed by.
          "Chris?" I asked.
           "Yeah?"
           "Is this really a dream?" I asked, dreading what he might say. He sighed as well, and blinked.
           "Unfortunately," he said, frowning. I didn't want to look in those sad blue eyes. I looked up at the ceiling, it looked cracked and old. I sighed.
         "Is that how I can talk to you?"
        "Yes. In real life I'm in a coma," he said calmly. I felt tears coming on. I desperately held them back. I took a deep breath.
       "Chris? Are you going to-" -I gulped-"die?" I whispered the last word. He was silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke.
          "Violet?" He asked, and he sounded so serious that I sat up.
          "Yeah?"
          "You should visit me in the hospital. In real life," he said. A tear slipped down my cheek.
           "I'm afraid to," I whispered.


    ~Day Something~


     They have officially declared Chris a vegetable. His parents will pull the plug. His funeral was in one week. I didn't speak anymore. I had pretty much left my body. I floated around, a ghost. My mom wanted me to get me into therapy. 

    ~Day 17~


   I was done with crying. I just rested my head on Chris' shoulder, saying nothing. We didn't speak anything. Just laid there. Thinking. Dreading.

      
    ~Day 22~

   When I woke up in the waiting chair, I saw Chris is out of the bed, fully dressed.
   "Hey, what are you doing?" I asked.
   "I'm leaving tomorrow," he said, and I gulped. His funeral was the next day. I looked him up and down. I missed his black skinny jeans, graphic tee, and converse. I ran into his arms, squeezing tight. He squeezed back.
    "You can't leave," I said, on the verge of tears. He bent his head down a little, and kissed me on the forehead gently. His kisses go down lower, on my nose, then finally right on the lips. I kissed back, crying full on now. He was crying too. I tasted the salt on his lips.
     "I'll always be with you, y'know," he whispered softly into my ear.
     "I know," I whispered back. He kissed me one last time.
     "Look for me in the wind. I love you." And then he disappeared.
 

  ~Day 23~


   I put on my black dress, the one that made me look goth. Tightening the ribbon in the back extra tight, I examine myself in the mirror.  I looked seriously depressed. Tear stains decorated my face. I didn't put on any makeup. I didn't feel like I needed to look pretty. Just sad.


   ~Later~


   His coffin was lowered down into the ground. It was decorated with laces and ribbons and flowers and other crap. The clouds cried today, soaking my hair. I didn't mind. My mother squeezed my hand. I squeezed back. A sudden breeze blew my hair gently. It wasn't cold. It was a warm feeling, like getting into a hot tub. Look for me in the wind. I smiled. I felt this huge hole in my heart that had been there for the past month be filled. And it was hope.
          
          



 

Author's Note

He passed away on March 25, 2010. Although this story is pure fiction, all of the names were changed, and our relationship wasn't like this at all, please note that his death was real, and suicide is a horrifyingly real thing. He did commit suicide. Thank you for reading. (Sorry for the seriousness)
I also don't give a fuck if it was cheesy. Deal.

Reviews

[Ruby of the Mountains]

Are you feeling better now, Essy?? I'm sorry he died... :( He was your friend, wasn't he?

Anyways, awesome story...I had to stop reading it because it nearly made me cry. And my parents would think something's wrong and they'd start bugging me again... *sigh*

[gigi:)]

damn made me cry :*(that was so sweet!
mom just walked in and started freaking out -_-

[Little Miss Strange]

This was a very depressing story. It was very real though, I agree, despite the whole dream visiting thing. I felt her angst as she visited him in the hospital in her dreams, but never in real life. Excellent story.

[Bella-Marie]

Wholey s**t.
Okay, this was a great piece, I was with you the whole way, reading and reading and loving it. The fact he died was really sad as I was hoping he would make it. This was amazing and I truly adore it.
Did you know this person well???