It wasn't easy; the entire time something was telling him Nononononono, runrunrunrun! He even puked about three times. And yet every time he turned around he was confronted by an even worse fear: the loss of another one of his friends. Every time he tried to run home, their faces, their laughter and all of the memories they shared would rush to the surface of his mind, and he couldn't; he couldn't, because running would be letting the happiest time of his life go. And that was scarier and more terrible than anything else.

When he reached her apartment, he couldn't go in; he turned around to walk away, and then turned back. He repeated the action four times before he actually got his hand on the doorknob; and when he did, he just stood there, stuck. Five minutes passed and he noticed the people passing by giving him strange looks; some even seemed frightened. Go in! NO. Now! NO. Quickly! I'm…I'm afraid. I know. It's okay. NO! "Yes." Drew quickly opened the door before he could change his mind. "Ella?" Not a sound answered him, except for the echo of his own voice. He stepped into the strangely dark, curtained room, shutting the door behind him; the room was unnaturally clean. "Hello?" The panic clawed at his throat, and he longed to run; but no, he would stay. He peeked into the kitchen, gasping when he noticed the lack of dirty dishes. Ella was naturally a procrastinator, and there was often STACKS of dishes waiting to be washed; of course, he used to do them every time. For some reason, the lack of them unnerved him even more, and he hurried to her bedroom. He stopped when he reached the door, the old, familiar fear once again working its way into his blood. No. Said the feeling, quieter, but still there. No. He closed his eyes tightly; "It's only Ella's room," he whispered, and opened the door. What he saw made him puke; Ella was lying on her bed, her eyes rolled back into her head, her hair matted, dry and brittle. But the worst part was her skin…her bones. Her skin was waxy and so pale, so translucent, you could almost see the bones poking through. He stifled a cry, and ran to her to feel for a pulse. "Be alive, be alive, oh! I am so sorry, please…" Tears ran down his face and he did nothing to stop them. "Thank god!" He breathed a sigh of relief, and yet his heart raced with fear: Her pulse was still there, but barely. Was it too late…? He closed his eyes. "Please." He called his brother Charlie. "Ella?" asked Charlie, sounding surprised. "No," whispered Drew, "it's me." "Drew?!" Even more surprised. "Yeah, look…Can you get over here fast? Ella's…Ella's sick." "No prob, little bro." Charlie said, sounding worried. "I was actually on my way to your house. See ya." Drew sighed. Please. I am so sorry. I am such a bloody cowered, he thought, burying his head in his hands. Soon he heard the honk of Charlie's horn, jolting him out of his gloomy thoughts, and lifting her gently-oh, gently, so gently! He was afraid her bones would snap like a bird's-carried her slowly to Charlie's car. Charlie blanched when he saw her. "What…happened?" "I don't know," answered Drew tersely, as he settled Ella against himself gently. "Can we get going?" Charlie swallowed, attempting to smile weakly. "Of course…Where to?" Drew paused. "I…" "How about that place the…ah…funeral, was held? It's close by." "…Yeah. That sounds…good." For the lack of a better word. He didn't want to go back, but…He looked down at Ella. "Yeah."

When they reached the All Saints' Hope Charlie saw the fear in his brother's eyes. "Hey, do you want me to go with you?" Drew laughed weakly. "Nah, man. I'm cool." Charlie eyed him skeptically. "You sure?" Drew sighed. "I'll be fine." He opened the car door after a couple more minutes of hesitation. Come on! Gently shifting Ella into a less awkward position he walked slowly towards the hospital entrance, which was propped open-it was closed at the funeral-to show that it was open to the public. He slipped in and stared around, letting his eyes adjust before he walked towards the emergency room reception area. "Excuse me…. my friend is…sick." The woman behind the counter didn't look. "I'm sorry sir, there's a line. Please wait your turn." He cleared his throat. "Actually, she requires immediate attention." "I'm sorry-" She looked up and the visible horror and disgust that crossed over her face made him suddenly angry and desperate. "Please. She needs help now." The woman opened and closed her mouth. "A-ah, of c-course. Um…" She fumbled for the phone. "Doctor Finn! We have a patient that requires immediate attention!" She paused. "Mhm. No! She needs help now-I'm not kidding, the girl looks like a zombie, or a skeleton-" She sighed. "Understood. Bring help-a stretcher, a couple nurses…Ok. Yeah." She closed her eyes and hung up. "He's coming." Drew nodded, and about five more minutes had passed in terrifying silence, when a harried looking man strode into the office. "This better be important, Miss." He said brusquely. "I don't have time for-oh…" His eyes widened as he took in Ella's horrible condition. "Joe! You and Marie hurry, get her on the stretcher." Drew's eyes suddenly clouded with fear, and he held her closer, if not tighter. "Don't-! Just…Be gentle." They looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and pity. "Of course." He trembled; suddenly he didn't want to leave her here-and yet, he didn't want to stay, either. His fear was overwhelming him, and he felt the powerful urge to vomit. No. Run. However, the nurses took one look at him, and gently pried her away from him. The doctor stared at him with both curiosity and hostility, and when he turned to leave, he stopped him. "Wait, young man." Drew turned around the urge to run now stronger than ever. Run! Run! "Would you like to tell me how the young lady became like this?" "Ah…I don't know." The doctor stared at him incredulously. "What?" Drew winced. "I just found her. I mean, I hadn't seen her for…eight days, and I…" The doctor's expression cleared up, the hostility gone. "You went to look for her? I see. Now, why hadn't you seen her in a while?" Drew closed his eyes, the sudden, swamping pain choking off his words. "W-we…I…" He took a deep, agonized breath and opened his eyes as the doctor watched him curiously. "Our friend…passed a-away." A tear slid down his cheek, and the doctor looked at him with pity filled eyes. "I see. I am very sorry." He nodded silently. "I…h-haven't been able to…leave my house. I was…I was afraid." The doctor nodded understandingly. "That happens sometimes. Did your friend die in an accident?" Drew shook his head. The doctor frowned in confusion. "What are you afraid of?" He asked quietly, and Drew shuddered, as he felt the bile-the fear, pain sadness-rise up in his throat. "Everything." The doctor watched him quietly as Drew looked away. "Can…Can I go s-see Ella? B-before I leave?" "That's her name?" Drew nodded. "Ella Carter." "Of course."

Drew looked down at Ella; she looked dead. "Ella?" he whispered, but she didn't even move. "I'm sorry. If I hadn't been so scared-" His voice quivered and broke off. "I…I have to go." He turned to walk away, then stopped; walking back, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Goodbye," he whispered, because he might not get to say goodbye tomorrow.

Walking back towards the doctor, he held out a piece of paper with his name and number scribbled on it. "Call if anything happens." The doctor looked at him solemnly. "Of course." Drew nodded, then walked quickly out the door to Charlie's car. Goodbye, he thought sadly. Goodbye, Ella.