Chapter Twenty.
I didn't even have enough time to react.
A choked cry left my lips an I lunged for him, tears already springing up in my eyes. Please don't let this be! I couldn't lose both of them!
Why was this world so unfair?
I caught his body before he fell, the momentum of his weight bringing us both crashing to the ground. Right onto the shattered vase. "Brent! Please! Don't leave me!" I screened, desperately trying to find his hand and clasp it in mine in a death grip.
Meg was at my side now, gently touching Brent's forehead. "He's still alive Hailee."
"How do you know?" I asked, my voice breaking.
"I can still hear his thoughts. He's completely fine - he's not hurt..." she trailed off, furrowing he brows and leaning in closer to his head. After a couple of moments, a smile slipped onto her face, and I wanted to slap her until she spoke up. "He's thinking about you."
Despite the circumstances, a soft pink blush slipped onto my face. I looked at Brent. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was in deep sleep. "How long 'til he wakes up?" I asked.
"Not long - huh."
"What?"
"I can't read his mind anymore."
"Meg, WHAT? He's dying?" I slapped my hands onto Brent's chest.
"No, no. Calm down, Hailee. This is a little strange, but nothing to worry about," Meg said, waving her hand in dismissal.
"But-"
"Nope. He's not dying."
"Well then-"
"He's not dying."
"I know, but-"
"Then why do you-"
"Stop interrupting me!"
A sly smirk wiggled onto Meg's face. "I'm not."
"Meg! This is no time for funny business! Brent's hurt!"
"Oh, and I'm the little girl from Narnia, and I can heal the hurting with a drop of my magical potion!" Meg said sarcastically, mimicking a British accent.
"Meg, stop."
Meg pouted, a dewiness forming in her eyes. "Hailee, I didn't mean to... Remind you of - of Alex."
"I'm not worried about him right now," I lied, waving my hand. "I just want to know what's wrong with Brent."
Meg furrowed her brows and stared at Brent for a long while. "I still can't read his mind." She looked at me with panicked eyes, putting her hand to his neck and wrist. "He still has a pulse."
"So, what? Is he in a coma?" I asked.
"I - I honestly don't know."
I pursed my lips, looking up at the sky. "It's not like we can get any medical help right now."
"I can help, maybe," a voice said in the backround, causing me to jump.
"Huh?" I asked, turning my head to catch the sigh of Andrea, her hands intertwined in nervousness.
"I - I trained to be an EMT before I, you know, croaked," she explained.
"What's an EMT?" I asked.
"Emergency Medical Technician."
I stared blankly at her before coming to a realization. "Oh."
"So, help!" Meg exclaimed, scurrying up to Andrea and pushing her down to Brent.
"I... I don't really know what to do," she breathed out.
"Just do your best. It's not like anything..." I stopped, gulping. It's not like anything can happen? I'm so stupid for thinking that. We should know from losing Alex...
Meg nodded. "I'll try." She put her finger on Brent's neck, blinking rapidly. "Yes, he still has a pulse."
I pursed my lips. "And?"
"I don't have any medical equipment. I think the beat we can do is put him on a bed and hope for the best." Meg shrugged.
I sighed. "Ok. So, put him on my bed?"
"On three," Meg said.
"All right." I wrapped my arms around Brent's waist. Meg grabbed his hands and Andrea got hold of his feet.
"One... Two... Three... Go!" we all groaned when Brent's weight was a little heavy but we managed to halfway-carry-half-drag Brent to my bed.
As soon as his body hit the bed, we all slumped over on the floor, breathing harshly. My house had no stairs, but the hallways went at such a high slope, I'm sure stairs would have been easier.
"That is possibly one of the hardest things I've ever done," Meg complained, rubbing her sore arms.
"I agree," I said breathlessly.
The sound of our hitched and heavy breathing eventually faded into the slow, steady breathing of sleep.
I dreamt of nicer times. Of times when I still didn't know there were others with me in this horrible place. Times when I was alone but felt happier.
I don't know what to do anymore...
I didn't know when my day ends and another begins. The only thing to separate them was the vague line of sleep, in which my senses delighted in. It was the only escape I have from reality. My fictional reality.
The next thing I know, I felt stirring next to me. My eyes creaked open and I almost jump at the sight of Brent next to me, his mouth open on my pillow.
His face was about an inch from mine.
A small pool of drool was dibbling out of Brent's mouth an onto this pillow, his innocent face giving him a child's manner. His face held no pain. No suffering.
It reminded me of when we we were both in about kindergarten. We baked mud pies in the sun, captured thousands of dainty lady bugs and stuffed them in boxes, ready to present to our mothers later. They weren't pleased. The looks of horror on their faces along with the quick swat of our box to the floor made the ladybugs crawl out in unison, and I watched until there was only one, stranded and alone. Too small and too weak to be able to make it's way out. Left behind by it's comrades.
Our mothers were reprimanding us, but Brent and I didn't care. We just sat there, watching the lady bug struggle.
Then it hit me. Don't lady bugs fly? I squinted and leaned down to the insect to get a better look. I quickly found the culprit. A wound. It appeared as if the small thing was injured by the mayhem of the prison break. I brought my hand down to touch the injured wing, but heard another buzz. A larger lady bug flew down and rescued the injured one, carrying it away.
As I looked away my eyes caught the glint of Brent's green eyes and I looked to them.
It was the first time I ever understood an overwhelmingly sad feeling in my life.
As if my stare was burning a hole in his face, one of Brent's eyes popped open. "Hailee?" he whispered, opening his other eye and furrowing his brow. He looked over me and his eyes widened. We were both under the covers, on my bed. Brent was shirtless and I was wearing a tank top.
How did this happen?
I gulped. "Um..."
"Did we..."
"No..."
"Then why?..."
"I honestly don't know. This may be Meg's funny way of trying to get us to be like we were again," I said.
"Oh, like scaring us half to death is going to do the trick," he muttered dryly.
A vile rose in my throat. "And what if we did?"
A smirk slipped on his face. "Actually, I wouldn't mind. I just want to be aware of it."
"Shut up," I snapped.
"As you wish," he responded and jutted his chin forward slightly to give me a quick kiss.
"Why were you out so long?" I asked, cuddling into his open arms.
"I had a dream," he said.
"Are you Martin Luther King Jr. or something now?" I asked playfully.
"Actually, in a way, yes," Brent admitted sheepishly.
"How?"
"I know what to do."
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Didn't believe I'd kill Brent off did ya? :P
I love him too much. ;P
But I like Alex better and he's gone so that should tell you something. :D
So it's like an hour past my bedtime. And I am literally falling asleep on the keyboard. :P
Well you can expect lots of updates from me later this week since I have time to write more :P
Meh. Why do we have to be so tired?
I hate school. Ugh. I'm complaining. Haha.
Anyway, before I get annoying (too late) I gonna go. :P
Till next time! ;)
Daniela.