the broken

Chapter 21

"Dan you need to wake up, okay? Please don't leave me," I  clench my shaking hands into his shirt and try to suck in air. Through my tears I see Jamie disappear from the doorway, returning a minute later with paramedics who gently pull me off of Dan and carry him away they carry him away and my feet won't work legs won't work I need to follow them but I can't because I'm shaking too hard.

I let Jamie lead me out and into a car I think it's my car but I don't know and my eyes can't see the real world they can only see blue lips and dead eyes.

Dan

God is dead.

Or more likely, he never existed.

There is no heaven, that's for sure.

Hell is what happens when you're bad, but what happens when you sell your life in exchange for something sweeter?

It's opening your eyes only to find that you don't know if they're open or shut. It's black, so much black it's walking and walking for days and days and screaming until your throat is raw because all there is is black and you have no hands or legs or lungs but yet you're still there.

I don't think I'm dead.

If this is death, I had made a huge mistake.

This is much worse than living.

I give up on walking because what's the point of walking when you don't exist. I stand, or maybe sit, or maybe float, and wait.

I wait.

And then:

"I miss you."

It was just that.

A small whisper that seemed to echo in the dark and then I was blinking my eyes open and small golden slats of light seemed to crack through the darkness. I claw my way out of the dark all the way out and I start to feel start to feel air in my lungs in and out and then I am back.

I blink, trying to figure out where I am, what is happening.

I feel the numb first, numb that wrapped around my skull. Then this goes, slow, but it goes, it lessens a bit, and I become aware of things. The soft feel of a thin blanket draped over me, a quiet beeping coming from the right of me, the feel of someones hand clutching mine. And then the wet, falling on my face like raindrops. I open my eyes fully, blinking a few times because TV static still blurred the edges of my vision.

The hand that I felt in mine was Phil's. The sad rain falling on my face came from Phil.

"I miss you so much," he says again, although this time it comes out as more of a sob, clenched and wavering as if he were forcibly pushing it out of his throat.

His hands clench onto mine as if they are the only thing keeping him from falling off the face of the world.

"Phil? Where am I?" I manage to croak out, and his head shoots up, bloodshot eyes wide open.

"Dan? You're awake oh my god."

His tired face lights up and shines brighter than the sun and then he gathers me up in his arms and holds me to him, never letting go of my hand. I squeak as he squeezes my ribs and he reluctantly pushes himself away, looking concerned, but happy, so happy.

"You're here, you're really here. You're awake and you're talking and.."

Phil rambles on, curling his free hand into a fist and rubbing his eyes, wiping his face of the tears that had tracked down his cheeks.

"Have you been sleeping?" I ask quietly. "You look tired."

Phil shakes his head no, and makes a sound that is a mixture of crying and laughing.