The Rent Boy (EDITING)

Chapter Thirty-Four: Gone-

    The corners of his lips curled up as he nodded, and with that I left to catch a cab. 

    Something in the atmosphere of the hospital felt different today. It felt darker, almost. My stomach felt sick, and my anxiety rose high with every step I took, that lead me closer to Logan's room. I tried to shake the feeling, but I couldn't. I didn't know why I was feeling that way, but it was freaking me out. 

    Despite the nausea and the overall fear I was feeling, I still continued through the corridors that took me to the ICU unit. As I was let through the double doors, the first thing I could hear was a loud, echoing sob, bouncing off the walls. 

    My eyebrows furrowed as I listened, making my way slowly to the corridor that held Logan. My steps started to fall in sync with the every-other thump of my heart. My mind was foggy, not allowing myself to form a scenario as to why I was hearing these sobs and heart-breaking screams. 

    But the closer I came to where Logan was, the louder they got. But that didn't mean anything, really. It didn't mean that the cries were connected to Logan. There were plenty of other doors down that corridor that held other patients. As terrible as it was to wish that kind of sorrow on someone else, I still found myself repeating it inside my head.

    It couldn't be Logan. It couldn't be Logan. It just couldn't be Logan.

    And then I was there. In direct view of his door, a few metres down, watching. Just staring. My mind was like a white piece of paper, a perfectly blank, white piece of paper. But then slowly, that perfect white piece of paper started to crease, as my eyes rested on a familiar face.

    The recognition of pain etched into the features of that familiar face, caused the piece of paper to darken, turning darker with every second, with every thud of my heart and every tear I watched fall from her cheek. With every sob I heard tear from her throat. 

    By the time I understood what was happening, that piece of paper was nothing more than ash. Slowly, the sound of her sobs grew silent inside my mind, but I could still see her chest heaving as she cried. I just couldn't hear her. The only thing I could hear was this white noise, deafeningly loud in my ears. 

    I blinked once. Twice. A hot tear burnt a path down my left cheek. I felt it slide smoothly across the skin, leaving a slight tickling sensation behind. As it fell from the edge of my chin, I felt my back hit the wall, but my legs didn't buckle. I didn't slide to the floor and cry. I just stood there, staring at the opposite wall. 

    It didn't quite click in my head. Probably because I hadn't actually heard the words. I could be assuming the worst. But deep down I knew. I knew from the moment I stepped inside the building. Somehow, I just knew he wasn't with me anymore. I knew he'd gone, now. 

    Gone.  

    I felt my chest close in on me as I said that word in my head. Fear, panic, anxiety, everything, a rush of emotions, a tidal wave that was building up had now crashed down on me from that one word. Everything that was important to me, everything that made me feel like I actually had a purpose, was gone. Taken away from me. Just like that. 

    He wasn't here anymore. He didn't pull through. There would be no more 'I love yous', there would be no more morning smiles, there would be no more Logan. That was a realisation I just couldn't cope with. 

    Mrs. Young's cries pierced through my hearing again. I turned my head to the left, seeing her through a blurry haze of tears in the distance. She was alone. There wasn't a Mr. Young by her side, cradling her and telling her it would be okay, even though it wouldn't be. 

    I didn't think as my feet took off in her direction, didn't think as I stopped directly in front of her, before taking the seat beside hers. She never once looked at me, or raised her head from her hands as she cried. But that was okay. I just wanted to let her know that she wasn't alone, and being next to her made me feel closer to Logan somehow. 

    I stared ahead of me at his door. I could tell you every marking I could see on it, I could tell you how many scuffs there were on the floor. Because that's what I focused on. I didn't let myself register how much pain I was actually feeling, because I felt like if I did, I'd just crumble. 

    I sat there silent, lifeless, empty. For how long? I didn't know. But eventually, without my own permission, I stood up and took careful steps towards the door. I pressed one hand flat against it as I leaned forward, peering in through the small window. 

    What greeted my eyes was a pristine, empty bed. Sheets perfectly lined up, not a crease to be seen. A perfectly white, empty bed. A perfectly white, empty bed that should have been occupied by Logan. Logan should still be in that bed. Where was he? Why was he gone? I let my head thud against the glass, closing my eyes. 

    There's that word again. Gone. That was just it, wasn't it? He was gone. There wasn't any getting him back, he hadn't just gone for a stroll.  He was dead. Logan was dead, and I was alone in a goddamn fucking hospital, where he should have been waiting for me, awake, fucking alive, in his stupid fucking empty bed. 

    I slammed my fist against the door and took a sharp breath in, squeezing my eyes shut like I was about to get hit with a physical force of pain. I couldn't deal with it, I didn't want to deal with it. I didn't want to deal with the reality that was staring me straight in the face. 

    Why couldn't I be gone too? Why couldn't I have gone with him? Why did he get to leave, and I had to stay? I screamed these questions furiously in my head, begging for an answer. I needed to know why, why everyone in my life that made me feel like I belonged, just left. Why did everyone always leave me? 

    I turned my back to the door, to meet eyes with Mrs. Young. But I couldn't take it. Her eyes, god, they were just so close to the ones I called home. I couldn't fucking take it. Before my mind caved in on me, and all control over my emotions was lost, I ran out. 

    I ran out into the cold air, with my hands shaking by my sides and my legs trembling so much I thought they were just going to give up on me. I tried to breathe back the tears, burying my hands in my hair and pulling, pulling hard so that I could feel something other than the emotional pain that was overwhelming me. 

    Wrapping my head around it was something that I knew I couldn't do. Everything just happened so fucking fast. I never did have a firm grip on anything, I was always falling. Always. I thought I was in control, but now I know that I wasn't. My life was a tunnel of pain, that was slowly caving in bit by bit. And that light that's supposed to be at the end, I could see that growing darker. Soon, there was going to be no light. 

    With the last remnants of my logical mind, I took my phone from my pocket and dialled Nate's number. I managed, between sobs and incoherent mumbles, to ask him to come and get me. by the time he arrived, I was curled up on the cold, concrete, cradling my knees close to my chest. 

    Nate had to haul me up without any of my assistance, since I couldn't find it in myself to even respond to him. Something inside me didn't want to leave the hospital. Something still believed that Logan was still alive, and maybe he really had just gone for a stroll. 

    But that something was buried beneath the dozens and dozens of voices telling me that that was it. Logan was gone, and there was no bringing him back.