Eighteen: Taylor’s Resolve
Nurses and doctors whizzed down the corridors, ushering patients after patients into identical bleak white hospital rooms. So what if the kidnappers were caught as her mom had told her? Jared was hurt, and that was all that mattered. Ciara rested her chin on her knees. How many hours had passed? She did not know. It felt like her heart was being wrapped in tight bandages, suffocating to breathe. She silently bit her nails—a nervous habit she thought she’d gotten rid of a few years back.
“Ciara,” her mom’s voice drifted to her by her side, but she was too transfixed on the dull floor. The word was repeated. This time, the voice was stronger. Before she knew it, she felt someone shaking her shoulder.
“Yes, mom?”
“You need to rest. It’s been hours, and you’re sitting there like a stone.”
She raised her head, and Emily winced. She knew her eyes were red, and her makeup smudged. It did not matter. No matter how bad she looked, she felt worse—a lot worse. She sighed.
“All right, I’ll go to the bathroom and clean up a bit.”
She herself wanted nothing more than to simply sit there and wait for the emergency room’s door to open. Her mind was blank, and it was as if she was in some sort of baffled state between dream and reality.
She rested her elbow by the sink and let her hands dangle over the edge. Droplets of water rolled down the curve of her fingers and finally dropping onto the surface of the basin. She tilted her head back and brushed a few strand of her blond hair from her eyes.
No wonder her mom cringed.
Ciara let out another sigh and turned the tap on. She splashed her face with water and wiped away the remnant of her ruined makeup and dried tears. Without another look at the mirror, she exited the bathroom. She stopped short.
“Ciara.” Bessie hurried to her as soon as she was out of the toilet. Ciara had never seen her friend this worried.
“I’m fine,” Ciara heard herself say. Her voice sounded awful to herself.
But he’s not.
Ciara gritted her teeth and made her way back to her old place. She settled into the same position as earlier.
He will be fine, she told herself. He’s Jared. A mere bullet cannot kill him! It shouldn’t kill him!
Five hours.
Those five hours were not just long; they were agonizing. With every tick, her heart felt like it was being ripped out of her chest; with every tock, an invisible force would shred her heart like cheese.
Five hours later, the door finally opened. Ciara was by the doctor’s side in a flash. She was vaguely aware of the people around her. The words uttered by the doctor in the next few seconds would determine her life. His gaze shifted past hers.
“I need an immediate family member of -”
“I’m here,” Mary said. She stood up, swaying rather precariously, and approached the doctor.
“Can I speak to you in private, please?”
Ciara’s heart did moves that would make an acrobat proud. Emily noticed her tensed state and placed her arm gently around Ciara’s shoulder.
“He’ll be fine. You have to believe in that.”
Ciara wanted to crumble into a billion little pieces. At least, that was what she was feeling. A part of her wanted to eavesdrop on the hushed conversation going just around the corner, but the other part of her refused. She could barely move.
She saw the doctor nod as if he had confirmed something and re-enter the surgery room. Much sooner than she expected, the same bed on which Jared had been pushed into the room was being propelled out. Machines she was familiar with were attached, and plastic tubes covered every inch of his exposed skin.
“What is it?” she asked. “Is he okay now?”
The answer would either break her like a glass or lift the huge boulder off her shoulder.
Mary’s lips parted, and Ciara waited for the fateful words to be spoken. Fear clouded her mind when nothing came out after a few seconds. It couldn’t be good news if she did not want to say it. Her eyes watered.
Her fault… It was her fault.
“He couldn’t make it.”
“Taylor? I thought you were out with -”
He waved her sentence away and stormed past her. Bessie popped the rest of her burger into her mouth and followed Taylor up the stairs. It was convenient for a fast food restaurant to be opened right next to the hospital if not slightly ironic.
“He got shot?”
“Yeah, Ciara should be with him.”
Taylor wrinkled his nose at the irritating scent. The few times he’d dialed Ciara’s number, he had gone straight to voice mail. This time, he decided to storm straight up to the reception and asked for Jared. Calling out a quick thanks, he rushed upstairs with Bessie.
The moment he entered the room, he stopped in his track. Ciara sat with her back to him. Her shoulders were shaking. Was she crying? Taylor took a step closer. Ciara didn’t show any sign of hearing him. He looked down. Jared looked peacefully asleep. Something clicked in his mind. His head snapped to the monitor next to him. On it, it showed a green horizontal line. Taylor dropped onto the stool next to Ciara.
He was too late…
“Ciara,” he began and patted her awkwardly on her back. He was never good at comforting people. “I heard about it. It’s… It’s not your fault.”
“Hell it isn’t!” Ciara cried, now facing him. “He took a bullet for me! Me! I should be the dead one! Not him!”
His heart broke at her red rimmed eyes. He longed to wipe the tears away from her face. He knew this was hard on her, but it must be said no matter what. It wasn’t her fault, and he would make sure she knew it.
“There’s something I need to tell you. I talked to him a while ago—a few days ago to be exact.”
Ciara wasn’t looking at him. She was silent, and he took that as his cue to continue.
Does he ever leave the hospital? Taylor thought to himself as he made his way through the tortuous corridors.
“You again?” he asked once Taylor managed to get him out of his mom’s room
They were in the exact position as last time. Taylor squinted against the bright sunlight streaming through the window. He decided to be straightforward.
“I think it’s time you tell her what’s wrong with you.”
Jared raised an eyebrow. “You thing something’s wrong with me?”
“Am I wrong, Mr. Anorexic?” Taylor dropped his voice.
It was true that he knew something was off about Jared, about his health. However, he had no proof. Jared could deny it and laugh at him for suggesting such an impossible notion without any proof. A few nurses walked past them. They shot Taylor a few curious gazes, but that was the most they did.
“No, you’re right,” Jared said. He closed his eyes and smiled humorlessly. “I’m sick.”
Taylor was sure that when Jared said ‘sick’, he did not mean fever or cough. It was much more serious. Taylor looked up. Did he really guess right?
“I will die, sooner or later. Taylor, this is going against my pride, but can I ask you a favor?”
Taylor narrowed his eyes. Just because someone was dying, it did not mean he had to agree to some outrageous implausible last wish out of pity. He was not that kind of person.
“It depends.”
Jared laughed but quickly became serious. “Take care of Ciara.”
Taylor resisted the urge to groan. “Of course I will.”
“Man, that was awkward.”
Taylor stared at him. “Damn, you’re right. This is too…” Taylor trailed off, scrunching up his face in disgust as he tried to find the word.
“Too cheesy,” Jared finished.
In unison, both the guys groaned.
“What kind of disease did you catch? Or is it hereditary?” Taylor had a feeling that he was being too nosy, but he was curious. He’d been curious for a while ever since the last time he had a talk with Jared.
“Nah, it’s not hereditary. And no,” he said with a smirk, “it’s not anorexic. I -”
The door burst open, and Jared’s mom popped her head out of the door. What a perfect timing, Taylor thought with a sigh. There went the chance to satiate his growing curiosity.
“Mom, you shouldn’t be walking around.”
Jared smiled at his mom and went forward to guide her back to her bed. Taylor had to remind himself to blink. And he thought he was a good actor! Jared caught Taylor’s stare over his mom’s shoulder and nodded subtly, just enough to let him know that what they’d just discussed was hundred percent the truths.
He wouldn’t live, and he knew about that. Taylor felt an unexplainable surge of anger. Jared led Ciara on. There was no denying in that.
“By the way.” Taylor glanced up. “They confirmed it just two days ago. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
They confirmed his… his sickness two days ago? He didn’t lead Ciara on on purpose. Was that what he was trying to say? Taylor stared at Jared closely. There was not a hint of insincerity on his face. Taylor nodded, and he saw Jared’s shoulder drop in what he assumed was relief.
“Oh? You told him about it?” The woman then switched her attention to Taylor. “Are you Jared’s friend?”
Taylor looked blankly at Jared. The latter smirked. “Yeah, I guess, Mom.”
“I’ll be on my way,” Taylor said and left the two of them.
Taylor left the room, fists balled. Screw him, that anorexic guy. The word ‘friend’ echoed in his mind. So what if he won the most important thing in his life from him? Taylor would just get her back when Mr. Anorexic is gone. That was only logical, right?
But no, he wouldn’t do that. He sneered, earning himself a peculiar look from a patient walking past him. As much as he wanted to, he wouldn’t. It was Ciara’s choice, and she chose him after all.
“Screw you both.”
“It’s not because of the bullet,” Ciara said, echoing Taylor’s words.
Taylor nodded, confirming Ciara’s words. Ciara’s hand reached out and gripped the window frame tightly to support herself. True, now it was clear that she did not cause his death, but that did not make the whole ordeal easier to withstand, to accept.
“Who else knows about this?” she whispered.
She closed her eyes. She would rather listen to the ugly truth than the sweet lie. Why hadn’t Jared told her the truth?
“His mom.”
“Mary,” Ciara mumbled under her breath before spinning on her heels and sprinting out of the room.
Taylor’s half-raised hand dropped back to his side. The dull ache in his chest grew in intensity. Oh, how much he would give just to have her care this much about him! He’d liked her for a long, long time, but she wouldn’t even give a second glance for leaving him. A defeated smile flitted across his face.
“Jared, I think you’re the only one who can take care of her.”
You’re the only one she cares about.
“Mary!”
Ciara took Mary’s wrinkled hand into hers and gazed into her hazel eyes—eyes identical to Jared’s. She repressed the countless images her useless brain had conjured of a particular person and focused on her next words.
“Was…” Ciara gulped and fixed her gaze on her lap. “Was there something troubling Jared before… before this?”
Mary’s hand tensed. Ciara finally mustered the courage to look up. Her chest clenched, and her heart dropped. It wasn’t that she doubted Taylor, but a small part of her had secretly hoped he was somehow wrong.
Mary slipped her hand out of Ciara’s and stood up from the hospital bench. She motioned for Ciara to follow her. The two made their way up the stairs. Ciara recognized the gray walls and tiled floors. Mary was taking Ciara to her room. Mary pushed open the door and went to her bed. She reached into the drawer and fished out a folded paper.
It couldn’t be…! Ciara felt queasy—whether it’s because of the nauseating hospital scent or this, she wasn’t sure. Ciara rubbed her palm on her skirt and reached out to take the white sheet of paper. Slowly, she unfolded the letter.
***
Don't kill me! *hides* I planned this before the first chapter was even written. Who else thought he wouldn't make it? I wanted to make this memorable, and a happily ever after was too... common and unlikely. There's still an epilogue left, and I hope I'll clear up some questions. Also, I suck at chapter titles (the reason why most of my stories don't have them). I'll change this one when I can think of a better one