One Could Only Imagine

Chapter 6

  "Why does it matter? God Jess, why do you have to analyze everything?" She screamed. 

   I stepped back, "It matters to me, that's why!" I inhaled and exhaled, pausing as I realized we all felt the same sorrow for the very same reasons. My knees started to buckle and my nerves took over everything so I collapsed to the dirty floor.  

  Cat pulled me up from the ground, embracing me. How is it possible that tonight all these events happened? How is it that whenever I'm around somebody, they always pay the price? I asked myself, sitting in one of the hospital chairs. 

  Cat fleeted while Kinsley sat next to me, taking my weak hand in hers. Yet she didn't say anything and neither did I. Instead, we sat in silence allowing each other to get some much-needed time to collect our thoughts. 

  Minutes later, Cat came with three paper cups in her hand, passing them to us. 

  "Thanks, Cat," I took it gratefully, letting the hot liquid satisfy my needs. She quickly sat to my left, rubbing my back. The three of us sat and waited as if time had stood still like so many countless times when it involved sitting and waiting. Surely it was past midnight by now. I was too overwhelmed to check the clock, but I knew it was my enemy. 

  The whole day seemed to have gone by and I realized I spent most of my weekend in a hospital, waiting for the outcomes of Trent's egotistical rage. I finally found the courage within to find out the time, and I knew at that moment— when I saw the hands, that it was far too long for me to sit. I rose to my feet, gripping the chair to help me remain standing, and smiled down at the sight of my two friends quietly asleep. My body took control again, limping away to the closest washroom.

  As I reached it, I scrimmaged for the light switch, locking myself in. My paranoia kicked in, and I headed over to the sink, running the faucet to cold so I could splash water onto my face. With my hand, I brought the cold water, spreading it over my eyes and mouth, trying to wake myself up from this nightmare I was living. When my eyes studied my surroundings, it appealed to the silver mirror, as if I needed another wake-up call. 

  I sighed as I found bags under my eyes; they were red and puffy from all the crying. And my hair was as messy as a bird's nest, but still, with my hideous appearance, I didn't care. How could I when all this foolishness had led us here of all places? And for what? I'll tell you— Trent! Trent did this! He and his gang of idiocy did this! I blinked, and the next thing I saw was Trent's face in it, staring back at me. He was laughing at me like a lunatic for what he caused. I turned around, trying to get the image of him and his gang at Mitchel's house fighting my friends. I could visualize it all; all the blood, the kicks, punches, the brokenness of a seventeen-year-old boy who was obsessed with the idea of hurting people I cared about, all because I rejected him in the tenth grade. 

  "She's mine!" He yelled, then my mind came back from fantasy, taking in what occurred. I'm going mental! I thought as I walked out the door and back to the waiting room, not expecting the sight in front of me. There standing awake were Kinsley, Cat, and Quentin's mother. She cried to Kinsley, but when her eyes met mine, she walked right up to me. "Quentin has a broken leg, so he'll be on crutches for a couple of weeks. He also has a minor concussion, and a few broken ribs." She confessed. "Brandon on the other hand, only has a broken nose and a broken hand. He didn't want to see anyone as he wanted to be with his brother which I hope all of you understand." She explained. 

  "Can I see him?" I cried. 

  She shook her head, "He's resting right now, and I'd advise all of you to do the same." The three of us took another deep breath and exited the hospital with nothing but utter disappointment.