Simon Thorne

“Are you Simon Thorne?” the nurse asked cautiously.

   “Y-yes.”                                       

              I was nervous, nervous and guilty.  If I hadn’t been crossing the street, if Ellie hadn’t run out to save me, oh god, what if she dies?  Because… because it would be my fault.  How could I be so stupid?

           “Follow me,” the nurse said.

            I closed my eyes, took a breath, and stood up.  The unnamed nurse glanced at her clipboard and marched me down a long, dimly lit hallway.  The walls of the hospital were a minty green color that made everything else look damp.  The nurse led me to a door with a rusty plaque numbered 310A.  Deep breaths Simon, deep breaths.  I turned the tarnished knob and the door squeaked open.

              “Ellie,” I gasped.

             A respirator covered her mouth and nose and IVs stuck out of her thin arms.

             “Simon you’re alright,” she winced.

             “Ellie, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I…I.”  She waved me closer and held my hand.  “Your hand is cold,” I noticed.

             She smiled weakly and glanced at her school bag.

             “Simon, get my Bible will you?” she asked me.  I slipped off the stool I was perched on and walked over to her bag.  After locating Ellie’s Bible, I brought it back to the stool and positioned myself on it again.

             “Remember when we got those Bibles?” Ellie asked.  I chuckled.

             “Yeah, mum and dad told us to keep them until a time when we needed them,” I said.

             “I was eight and you were five, I’m surprised you remember them saying that,” she reminisced.

             “Well, I didn’t understand what it meant really, and besides, the toy tank was a much more exciting gift at the time,” I smiled.

             “I think,” she started. “That the time to use it is now.”

             “I—”

             “Mr. Thorne,” the unnamed nurse said. “I’m going to have to ask you to step aside for a moment.”

             I moved out of the way as she and another unnamed nurse brought a cart of medicines into the room.  Unnamed, just like mum and dad’s grave. And now Ellie… if that truck hadn’t come, if I hadn’t been in the way, Why, why did they have to leave us?  If Ellie— no, she wouldn’t die, she wouldn’t leave me alone, she knows how it feels to be… alone.

             Suddenly, I heard footsteps round the corner of the curtain. A doctor rushed in, along with several other nurses.

             “What’s… what’s going on?” I asked confusedly.

             “Hush sweetheart, it will all be fine,” unnamed nurse number three calmed me.

             “Ellie, will she be alright?”