GASP

Chapter 03

song: violet by farewell dear ghost

      Delicate fingers clasp around my thigh, the whole apartment is burning. As I look into the living room, I see gray clouds of smoke and it smells like alcohol and nicotine -- like every second of the day. I grab his little hand, holding it tightly as if I'd never let him go. The flames encircle us. The only way out seems to be the kitchen, which is occupied by the yellow tiles that are not affected by the flaming, burning hot monsters. 

     I give my brother a jerk and send him into the only escape room where we will be somewhat protected to alert the fire department. After I'm sure he has made ​​it safely to the blue handset of the phone next to the rusted fridge, I go back to the living room, always on guard not to get close to the flames. The smoke is corrosive to my lungs and I press the sleeve of my sweater against my mouth and nose. As soon as I'm back where I just came from with Casper, I look into the room one more time and see how the space is changing slowly. It becomes black and everything starts to smoke. I can only discover flames, of John and Carla is no trace left. I even had the idea of helping them out of this, but now that I think about it, I feel not the least bit guilty when I can't help them. They aren't  taking care of us, too. They must not care that my brother and I could die in those flames that would burn our skin. They are cold-hearted creatures, which you shouldn't approach.

   I'm getting dizzy and support myself with my hand on the door frame, that is already covered with a light gray layer. Suddenly everything is spinning. My chest ... it hurts like hell. "Ahh!" I call tormented as I press my free hand on the hurting area, with the intention to stop the pain, but it doesn't help. The burning eats me inside out and is blurring my vision, weakening my knees. 

   "Tori! I called the-," I hear the voice of my little brother calling, but it is difficult to understand, because my ears are slowly giving up and I can't perceive my surroundings. "TORI!" he screams, but the only thing I still notice is the stinging in my chest and the torment of drawing the contaminated air into my lungs. "TORI!"

"NO, CASPER!" I cry, interrupting my dream.

    I breathe rapidly and uncontrollably, eyes wide and sweat moistening my forehead and the few hairs that were once my bangs, but have already grown out over the years. I can feel my heart beating against my chest and the pain that this pounding causes. I need a moment to realize that I'm lying in my bed, still beeing captured inside this hospital. A tube is attacked into my right arm and my blanket has slipped down to my thighs. I reach the material, pulling it up to my chin with my trembling fingers.  I wipe away the tears that I hadn't noticed until now, as I sob quietly.

  I need to know where my brother is. Absolutely, I need to. John and Carla could be dead by now. But a cold shiver runs down my spine as I think that this may have been the fate of my brother, too.

  I remember only a fraction of the fire in that crappy apartment, which arouses such bad memories. The flames, the smoke, the pain and my little brother. All this happens in my head when I think about the events which I can remember now. It doesn't surprise me that there was a fire...so much alcohol, so many cigarettes that had to be ignited by fire, to satisfy their addiction. It was only a matter of time before it would come to this. Still, I'm not letting go of the idea that I don't know where Casper is. More tears are rolling down my hot cheeks and I let go of the air that  I've just forced inside of me, as I release a shaky breath. But when I suddenly hear a loud rumbling and cries, I cringe. I look to the door that separates me from the doctors and other patients, and see that even though it's the middle of the night, the light is turned on. I recognize fast movements of the shadows of people and frown slightly.

"I want to get in there!" A hoarse voice shouts, and I don't need too long to notice that this person is drunk. The babbling of the voice and the long vowels confirm my guess. The voice is very familiar to me as well. A few days ago he has left the hospital and now he is already drunk again?

"If I have to stay here, I want to be in there!" I jump again, as a fist slams against the door, leaving it vibrating for a brief moment.

"Mr. Styles, you can not go in there, we have special rooms for your 'sleep off' and we don't want you to interrupt Ms. Rees sleep." I recognize sister Clara's voice and I can imagine Harry's anger all too well.

  I don't understand why he wants to get in my room so necessarily. Did he forget something in here? Before I can think about more reasons, the door swings open with full force and a major figure enters the dark room. I recognize his curls first, then the broad shoulders and his leather boots, sipping on the ground as he approaches me.

  I claw myself firmly to the end of the duvet, that's still up to my chin and watch the movements of his shadow with wide eyes. Stomping he goes up to the curtain that separates me from the second bed and the other side of the room and pulls it aside. I see sister Clara standing in the doorway as she is watching us carefully. It amazes me that she doesn't mind that Harry simply bursts into my room. At least now that he is so close to me. Because even when I'm awake anyway, I don't feel very comfortable in his presence.

"Mr.Styles," Clara suddenly says, but Harry doesn't respond. Determined, he stands a few feet away from my bed, trying to avoid falling over as he stumbles slightly. Then he moves back to his old bed until he comes up against the metal edge with his legs falling on the mattress. He never breaks the eye contact he is sharing with me.

   I catch Clara observing what Harry is about to do and it seems that she is convinced that he has no evil in mind. But apparently he just wants to have his rest, as he gives her a hostile look, finally dropping onto the pillow. Clara shrugs as if it is nothing special, eventually closing the door. It is pitch black dark in our room now and the hall light turns off after a short while. I am unsure whether I should be reassured that Harry is far away from me or if I should be afraid, because he is in a room with me in his well known drunken self.

   Carefully, I set my head to the side and look over at him. The moonlight shines inside through the window, helping to perceive his features. His angular face is still directed at me and his eyes stare at me without blinking once. His full lips are pursed and I suspect that he bites the inside of his cheeks. Why does he look at me like that?

   Finally, I catch him doing as he closes his eyes briefly, but then once again dedicating them to me. His mouth opens slightly and I see his white teeth. He furrows his brow and breathes in and out quietly. Then he begins to speak... "You don't deserve being in here."

  I bite my lower lip, don't understand what he means. No one deserves to be in a hospital, or rather, no one deserves to have a disease. If that's what he wants to say, then I already knew that long ago.

"What do you mean?" I ask to be sure and nervously swallow down the lump in my throat.

"Like I said, you don't deserve being in here," he replies with a deep, husky voice.

"Nobody does," I answer and wrinkles develop on my forehead.

"I know," are the only words he has to say in return.

  I turn my head back, trying to find some interest by looking to the ceiling, failing to fall asleep as I suspect him to say something. But he wouldn't speak up again. At least I thought so, as he opens his mouth and I need to hold onto my breath.

"You better breathe as long as you can, Victoria," he whispers with a dark voice, which, again, gives me a cold chill down my spine.