Author: Elennar PM
A truly HORRIBLE story that I once wrote to squirm my way out of writing for the school magazine..it didn't work. Lol! Please review!Rated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy/Angst - Words: 678 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 1 - Published: 04-05-08 - Status: Complete - id: 2499697
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Pain. Lots and lots of pain. No sense of direction or time or existence- just pain. Where am I? Chris thought through a haze of agony. He tried to move his hands, but daggers of pain shot through his body, forcing him to abandon the attempt.
Bracing himself, he opened his brilliant sapphire blue eyes to find himself in- a hospital. Everything spotlessly white, beeping machines surrounding him, and as his eyes riveted around the room; a doctor in an equally impeccable apron.
The doctor smiled (a tad bit too brightly for Chris' comfort) as he noticed that his patient had regained consciousness. "You're in a hospital." The doctor said gently.
Really? Chris thought, his sarcasm kicking in, you could've fooled me! Outwardly, he glared, letting the doctor know that he should quit beating around the bush, and cut to the chase.
"How'd I get here?" He finally managed to say, surprising even himself at how feeble his voice sounded.
"You were in a car accident. You and your brother were driving down town and got hit by a speeding truck. You remember that, don't you?"
Now Chris remembered. He and Rowan, his older brother, were going to eat out that night.
At the thought of his brother, worry filled him. How badly is he hurt? Chris thought, then asked the doctor the same question. With steadily escalating apprehension, he noticed a look of sympathy pass across the doctor's features. "I'm very sorry…" He began.
No, no, no, no, no… sentences beginning with an 'I'm sorry' in hospitals are never good.
"I'm very sorry," he repeated once more, as undiluted terror squeezed Chris' throat, "but your brother didn't make it."
Rowan Parker (1984-2006), the tombstone read. Standing in front of it, Chris still found it hard to believe that Rowan was well and truly gone.
Gone. As the word resounded inside his head, a rugged sob clawed out of him. Tears flowed freely as the dark thoughts came- about how he would never see Rowan's beloved face again, how never again would he hear his voice again, nor his infectious laugh. How he would never be able to find haven in his brother's jade eyes again. He was alone now, utterly and absolutely alone.
Two times now, Chris thought grimly. I've lost family to death twice now.
Vividly he remembered the day he'd lost his parents. He had been eight, and Rowan twelve. That too had been a car accident. Coming home from school, he had found Rowan sitting alone on the living room chair, his eyes bloodshot.
He also remembered the way he had snuggled up to his brother that night. "You won't go too, will you?" The eight year old Chris had asked his brother fearfully. "Nope squirt, you're stuck with me," Rowan paused, thinking of a suitable clause, "erm, till, erm, oh right, 'till death do us part." Sobering up, he added solemnly, " I promise I won't. I'll never leave you."
"Promise?" Chris had persisted. When Rowan had replied, "Promise.", he had fallen asleep, relieved, with his head against his brother's beating heart- Rowan had never broken his promises.
Except this one. Now, as he remembered fresher memories, with the searing grief came guilt. He remembered that nightmarish day….
"Come on, Rowan!" Chris said, delivering a sharp rap on Rowan's head. "Get your nose out of those books for one night- let's eat out! We haven't in ages, you know."
When Rowan had protested, citing his upcoming Finals as a reason, Chris had insisted saying, "One car ride isn't going to kill you!"
But that one car ride had killed him. "Oh God, Rowan…" Chris choked out as sob after sob wracked his body, "I'm so, so sorry."
A zephyr blew across his face then, gentle and caressing. And as clear as rain, he heard two words being spoken in a heart breakingly familiar voice- Don't be.