I'm Still Breathing

fourteen

Logan's POINT OF VIEW

As I fix my things, itching to go home immediately, I suddenly hear my phone ring.

One.

Two.

Three.

My heart beats furiously, wanting to get out of my chest. As I hear the police officer give me the exact address where she is found, which I angrily asked, I bolt out of my room, leaving everything.

I immediately drive to the place with panic coating every fiber of my being. She told me whenever I panic, I should count slowly and breathe in every time I say a number.

Four.

Five.

Six.

People are swarming the street which is my cue to park my car in the side. I immediately lock my car and rush to where she is found, and then, I see her.

Seven.

Eight.

I run to her side, but the medical team pull me out from the horrendous scene. I push them away because I need to be beside her just for once. The talks and pity slipping from the bystanders' lips become hazy, as I kneel beside her. She's still wearing the clothes that I last saw her, slumped against the cemented and ragged ground, and her chest slowly moving up and down.

I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream. I could hear my heart hammering in my chest, it echoed in my head, and then realize that I was holding my breath. I ease the air out of my lungs slowly, catching my breath. I clutch her cold hand, trying to wake her up by lightly squeezing her hand.

"Wake up," I quietly whisper, tears falling from my . "Please wake up," And then, they pull her away. I shouldn't have lied to her. I lied because I don't want to tell her that I don't want to see her like that; broken. I don't want her to feel my pity towards her, so instead of going to her homecoming, I drank my ass off, waking up with a huge headache.

"Sir, you need to come with us," one of the medical team pulls me to stand up and enter the ambulance. "We need you to confirm her identity. What's your name and affiliation with the victim?"

I sniff and wipe my tears, looking at the medical team who are inserting different types of tubes in her body. "Logan Asher and she's my friend."

"We need you to answer few questions for further investigations," replies the officer who sits beside me in the ambulance. I look back to the bloody cement and frown, looking back at her. I notice the black scribble on her arm.

I have always loved you, L.

I involuntary cry, making the people awkwardly comfort me. "Code 10-56A," one policeman says to the others, as the ambulance doors close. I take my phone out and call her parents.

***

Two days past and she's still quietly sleeping in the horrible hospital bed. Seeing her in the hospital bed with different kind of tubes attached to her body is heartbreaking.

I look at Alec and he gives me an apologetic smile. Mrs. Stacy keeps on crying beside her, clutching her pale hands, with Mr. Stacy rubbing her back a few times. I excuse myself and walk outside, escaping the thick tension and sadness in the room. I head towards the canteen and buy myself a cup of coffee.

Margo is one of the toughest girl I meet and I'm still surprised that she's damaged, but it's understandable. Everybody is damaged, but it's about how you hide it. I guess Margo got tired and she wanted to finish it, which I want to punch her once—if she wakes up.