So it's been a while. Sorry for that. But I've just been super busy.
Whatevs, I'm not going to bore you any longer. Here's the update.
He's still not better. He still looks as sick and sweaty and agonized as he did before. I wish I could help him, I wish I knew what I can do to make this better. It hurts me to see him like this and I am terrified that we might not be able to help him. But there is still hope. The Grey Skin's suicide has given me hope.
Right after we carried that guy a fair way off the camp site, I sent the other four boys out to scan the forrest for anything that could belong to him. If he really followed us all the way from the cave, he had to have some kind of vehicle. I can't believe nobody noticed him the whole time.
My hope is that they will find something that can help healing Harry. There has to be something. Of course I could be wrong and there isn't an antidote after all, but right before the Grey Skin killed himself, he said something like "You will never get the answer from me". He made sure of that by killing himself. To me, that sounded like there is an answer, a solution, anything that can save this boy right next to me.
I could've gone and searched the woods myself, but I couldn't bare the thought of leaving Harry behind. I need to be with him. I won't leave him alone.
I haven't left his side ever since I entered the tent about two hours ago. It has gotten cold and dark by now but the boys aren't back yet. I wonder what takes them so long. I can't stand seeing Harry like this anymore. All I want is to swop places with him. He doesn't deserve this. He didn't deserve anything that happened to him ever since we kidnapped him.
He looks sick, so sick. I keep petting his damp hair and gently caress his face in hopes that he will feel it and relax, or wake up, or... just feel better. But I'm not surprised that he doesn't show any reaction. Still, I keep on caressing his cheeks and slowly run my fingertips along his jawline. He's my boy, my Harry. I can't accept his fate, I can't come to terms with the fact that he is dying.
"Please, don't leave me, Hazza," I whisper to him, "Please."
For a second, I think about sucking the wound out but that would probably not help anymore, at this point. I should've done that right after he got shot, not hours later.
"Don't you leave me, you hear me?" I find myself mumbling, even though I know it's no use.
Suddenly, I hear something. Sounds like a motorbike. And soon enough, I can see a light approaching the tent. Who can this be? We don't have any motorbikes. Horrible pictures of more Grey Skins torturing me but keeping me alive to make me watch while they are killing the boys, and ultimately Harry, are crossing my mind, until the tent is zipped open and a blushed Evan steps in.
"Oh, it's you," I say and start breathing again.
"Sorry that it took so long," Evan apologizes and gives Harry a worried glance, "That's why I decided to leave the others to walk back here on their own and took the motorbike to get here faster."
I furrow my eyebrows. "Oh, yeah that makes sense," I joke before adding, "Where did you get it from?"
"It's the vehicle that the Grey Skin used," Evan answers eagerly and steps closer.
"Really?" I sit up straighter. Of course it is, how didn't I realize that right away? "Where did you find it?"
"About a mile from here," Evan says and kneels down next to us, "We went searching for it in the direction he ran, after he shot Harry. I'd figured he was running back to the spot where he left his vehicle. It turned out to be right. And he was clever, too. He hid it far enough away so we wouldn't accidentally come across it while we're hunting."
I'm already impressed with the way he handled the responsibility. Apparently, as soon as you force him to be in charge of something, he'll be that much more mature than usually.
But I can't be thinking about his training now. "Did you find something with the bike?" I ask in hope.
Evan nods his head as if he'd already forgotten and starts fishing something out of his backpack. It's a small zip bag with the name Zac painted on. When Evan shakes it carefully, I can hear a rattling noise that sounds like glass hitting glass.
"Poison seemed to be his weapon," Evan says and hands me the little bag.
My hands have started shaking as I open it. I don't know whether it is out of excitement and hope for a cure or out of fear as to what I will find.
Inside the bag are a few dozen tiny flasks of different size and shape filled with liquids of different color. There is also a slightly bigger flask which holds about fifty of the red poisonous suicide pills. They might come in handy at some point.
"I gathered everything that looked like poisen in this bag," Evan tells me, "This was the biggest batch but we found these flasks everywhere in and around the bike. I think he was trying to hide some of them."
Well, great. I roll my eyes internally. Those were probably the antidotes. Or maybe that was the poison and those inside the bag were the antidotes. Damn, who knows what goes on inside of the head of a lunatic? I guess, I'll have to take my chances.
"Which one was the hardest to find?" I ask Evan and return the bag to him.
The boy hums in thought. "I don't know," he mumbles and rummages through the collection of flasks, "This one, maybe," he says and retrieves a very average looking bottle with a bilious green liquid and a cork lid.
There is no label attached to it which could have told us what it is. I take it from Evan and turn it in my hands. This could be anything.
"We only found it because Peter was dumb enough to break the taillight," Evan explains. His head darts in Harry's direction when the curly boy utters a particularly loud groan.
I turn to him in worry. "Hey, Harry," I breath as calm as I can manage, "Don't worry, we'll fix this. You'll be fine, okay? This will be over in no time." I just don't know whether it will be over in the good way or the bad.
"He looks bad," Evan comments.
"I know. That's why I'll have to try it," I grumble and pop open the lid of the bottle, "Could you come here and hold his head up, please?"
Evan looks at the open bottle and pauses at my words. "You're going to give that to him, just like that?" he says, sounding a little horrified.
I shrug my shoulders but my face adopts a grave expression. "Look at him," I say and do so myself. His skin looks ashen now, he looks like he is already dead. But he is still breathing heavily and letting out little gasps and moans of pain. "He's dying," I say, my voice breaking at the end, "This might be our best chance. This will either help him or not. It can't make it worse, at this point. He'll live or he'll die."
"Louis, that's insane," Evan objects, shaking his head quickly, "We should... test this first, see what all these bottles do."
"We don't have the time for that," I raise my voice impatiently, "We'll do it like I said."
Evan only looks back at me with uncertainty in his eyes.
"You think I want him to die?" I say angrily, "You think I don't care whether this will work or not? That's bullshit! I worry about him more than any of you, okay? I'm trying to save him, but I have no idea how. This is me trying to save him, Evan, you see? I want him to survive this. I need him to survive this! But he won't if we keep on doing nothing. Now, please, just hold his head up for me, will you?"
Without another word, Evan nods his heads, gets up, and positions himself next to Harry's head to hold it up. I give him a grateful smile. My hands are shaking again when I put the bottle to Harry's chapped lips. This time, it definitely is fear. One hand finds his cheek, palming it desperately, while the other empties the bottle into the boy's mouth.
I hold my breath for the next ten seconds.. then 20.. a minute. Nothing happens. There's no visible change in the look or behavior of him. After about two minutes of waiting and watching in anticipation, I look up at Evan in wonder.
I am just about to suggest to try another flask when Harry gasps loudly, making me jump. His eyes fly open and he makes a sound like the one somebody makes that has been holding their breath for a lot longer than what is comfortable. My heart jumps in excitement, but before the relief and joy can travel all the way up to my brain, his eyes shut again and the breathing doesn't calm down anymore. I see him stuggling for air right in front of me and have no idea what to do about it.
"Harry!" I shout out in horror and take his hand that is reaching for me.
When I look at Evan again, he only shrugs his shoulders with a frightened expression on his face.
Then, Harry's body stops moving. "No!" I cry out, forgetting everything around me. This just reminded me way to much at what had happened to the Grey Skin when he killed himself. At first, I'm afraid that Harry has stopped breathing altogether, but then I see that his chest is still moving the tiniest bit. But he is breathing way too slow and much too shallow to actually supply his whole body with enough oxygen for more than a few minutes.
This is it.
A sob escapes my lips and my eyes dart up to Evan. "Leave," I command, "Go find the others and get them back savely. Leave!"
"Louis, are you sure?" Evan says with sadness in his voice. He knows the truth, too, which makes it even more painful and real. Harry is dying. "You don't have to be alone, right now. I could stay."
"I'm not alone," I grunt and look at Harry's pale face, "Go, Evan! Leave," I repeat without looking at him. I can't have him around when I break down. He can't be here for this and I know I can't hold it back for much longer.
My heart is raising in my chest. I can't seem to breath anymore. It feels like I am in a dream. In a nightmare.
Evan gets up and lightly pats my shoulder as he leaves the tent but I almost don't even feel it.
I don't think I can feel anything, anymore. I wouldn't know what to feel. Or how. All I do is hold on to Harry's hand that is still in mine and slowly run my other hand up and down Harry's slowly moving chest, waiting for his heartbeat to cease completely.
What have I done? I've killed him. This is all my fault.
Another sob escapes my mouth and my head falls onto his chest as I can see my vision blur. "I'm so sorry, Harry," I cry pathetically but I can't get myself to care, "I never wanted this to happen. I'm so sorry, baby. So fucking sorry."
Please comment and vote, so I know whether you liked it or not (and which parts you liked/disliked).
Love you sweethearts.