Devil's Backbone (Muke)

28

"No!" I start to cry. A doctor runs in and starts trying to revive him with CPR. They give him shocks. They boost his IV. Nothing works. Five minutes later, the monitor is still giving off one long beep. Ten minutes later, the beep stops altogether. Fifteen minutes later, the nurses leave and the doctor walks up to me.

"Are you Luke?" He asks.

I nod, tears rolling down my cheeks as I can feel my heart breaking.

"I'm so sorry. He's... he's gone."

"Are you absolutely sure?" I squeak.

The doctor nods, and Ashton starts patting my back.

"Yes. I'm sorry. We'll let you say goodbye for a few minutes," the doctor tells me. He walks out and I stumble to the cot. I stare at Michael's chest, waiting to see it move. Only if doesn't move. It stays still, as do his eyelids and everything else.

"Fuck!" I scream. I kneel to the ground, grabbing a bar on the side of the hospital bed as I start sobbing. Ashton and Ryan both kneel down on one of my sides. I didn't even know Ryan was in here, but it doesn't matter. Sobs shake my body and it feels like my heart is literally tearing into shreds.

"Luke, I'm sorry," Ryan says.

"It's not true. He can't be dead," I mutter. I sit on the ground and bury my face in my hands. My face is hot and getting wetter, but I don't care. Besides, I couldn't stop the crying if I tried.

"He is, Luke. They did everything they could," Ashton tells me.

I lean into somebody's side, and they wrap their arms around me. I don't know who it is at this point, and don't care. Everything hurts.

Someone starts to rub my back.

"This isn't real," I mumble.

"I'll get him home. You guys can go," the person with their arms around me says.

Several minutes later, I'm stumbling along with Ryan. We go outside to his car. Calum took my car home, since there's no way I can drive like this.

"Are you going to be okay?" Ryan asks as he starts to drive.

"Michael was everything to me. Him and our kid," I say. Even I can see how dull my voice is.

"I know. I'm so sorry."

I say nothing the rest of the way to my house.

"Do you want someone to stay here with you? If you're not comfortable with me, I could get Ashton or Ethan or someone here," he offers.

I shake my head.

"I'm okay. Thank you, though. For everything," I say.

He nods, and I get out. He watches me walk to the front door and walk in.

Someone's been keeping Pepperoni fed. These last few days, my dog has been one of the last of my concerns. I feel bad about it now, though.

I top off his food and water and force myself to walk up the stairs. I know I should shower, but I can't find it in me to do so. Instead, I walk into the bedroom I used to share with Michael.

I stare at the bed for a moment, and then collapse into it. I lay on his side and pull the blankets up. More tears come as I curl into a fetal position. His side smells like him, of course. It sounds odd, but I lay in bed for hours just crying and smelling Michael's pillow. I can't believe he's gone.

When my tears stop coming, I just stare at the wall. I can't cry anymore, but I can't get up. I lay there, taking in the scent of Michael's cologne and body wash and shampoo.

He'll never get to meet our baby. We won't ever get married, or start that family that he was talking about. He won't ever see Pepperoni or his parents or his best friend ever again.

I will never wait up for him to come home again. I'll never get to cook for him, cuddle with him, or watch another movie with him. We'll never see his smile or hear his voice again.

I curl into a tighter position as more pain hits me. I'm certain I'd be crying if all of my tears weren't all dried up. Now, I can just cry dry sobs, make horrible noises, and stare into space.

I can't get up. Not to make food, not to shower, not to get water. I haven't showered in three days but can't bring myself to get out of bed. Pepperoni curls up a couple of feet behind me in bed, and I can't pet him or anything. It's like I'm frozen in place, and can only move to breathe and squeeze myself into a tighter ball.

I never would have imagined it'd be this bad. I can't do anything. Not even the basic necessities. Which begs the question: How am I going to handle this?