DIE TONIGHT 》 Ryden

11:50pm

RYAN'S POV

Z left. Once again wrapping Dottie in the little pink blanket, as if pretending she was an infant.

I can't stop thinking of 'Camisado'. It's been a while since I heard the song, or even thought about that song, but after Z and Dottie left my bedside. I've been humming the lyrics to myself for the past hour. Shit, I couldn't have been older than twenty when I wrote it, but it feels like I just wrote it not to long ago. I feel like the younger me is giving current me directions on what to do next. The song isn't about myself at all, but it feels like it matches the situation I'm in. It's like there's a secret message written in the lyrics- Can't take the kid from the fight, take the fight from the kid.

At this point, I'm singing the song. My eyes are closed and I hear the monitors harmonizing along.

Shit, I don't want to see Brendon now. I mean, I do. I want to. I just know it'll drain out all the acceptance to leave that Z gave me. I tried to stand up, and walk away like last time. But since my last surgery, I no longer have the strength to move. Sitting up in a chair is even a challenge. What the Hell is wrong with me?

Heel tapping.

My eyes open.

A woman. Shoulder length light brown hair. Short black lace dress with heels to match. Brown eyes filled with pain.

She stares at my body. Examining me from a distance. I don't know her.

She takes a seat next to my lifeless body, "Hey, neighbor," I'm sorry, but I think you're mistaken?

"I thought I'd pay you a visit, and you know, I'm not even sure why I'm here.." She trails off, tears are falling. "I hope you had a better day than I did.. I lost somebody toda.. Well, something like that.. And I've been crying all day.." She laughs sadly, her eyeliner is running, "God, I loved him so much, and to just-just he was to weak to keep up, and couldn't stay," she sobs. For a second, she reminds me of Brendon if I died. Or when I die. Sobbing to someone you barely know about a break-up and regret for past lovers.

"He had so much to live for," She inhales, "He-he wanted to p-play b-baseball, and go t-t-to s-space," Her hands are shaking, tears are falling, but she doesn't wipe them away. "I named him after you, Ryan.. He was only seven-years-old.. And then his heart stopped. And the saddest thing is, he never met his real dad. It's not that his dad was an asshole or a deadbeat son of a bitch, it's that I was engaged at the time with another man. And I just told my husband that he was his. God, I'm such an asshole.." she cries, "Dude, I just found out that his dad passed away on Valentine's Day the year I attempted suicide, and I'm thinking of having him buried next to his dad, but I don't know what to do.."

She lost her son.

It wasn't her significant other, it was her seven-year-old son. 

He was that young.

I look away, feeling the pain of my alleged neighbor.

"You're going to have visitors, I'll see you in five years.."

I look back.

She's gone.

. . .

She was right about me getting some visitors. 

Had I been paying attention and alert, I might have noticed that Z was tying to get Brendon to see me.

"I'll take him to him," I overhear Nurse Gilbert say to Z, who was still carrying 'Baby Dorothy'.

"That sure was a move you made earlier.." I hear her tell Brendon.