I paced back and forth across the empty waiting room. The smell of antiseptics filled the air and I could hear the sound of coughing in nearby rooms. I wrung my hands anxiously. I had already been waiting for over two hours and the doctor still wasn't back. Something was wrong. The doctor should have been back by now. The sense of dread grew with every second that ticked by. One. Two. Three. She was supposed to be back by now. Where was she? Four. Five. Six. Sweat dripped down my face. My hands trembled. Why was she taking this long? Seven. Eight. Nine. Something was seriously wrong. It shouldn't be taking this long. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. At last the door clicked open and I rushed over, but the doctor walked out with a grim expression on her face. My stomach twisted and I staggered into a wall, trying to remain upright. I felt like I was going to puke.
"No," I whispered. No! This couldn't be happening.
"I'm so sorry," the doctor said, her voice sweet and soft. I collapsed to my knees. No. This couldn't be happening. No!
"No! I screeched and my whole body went numb. All sounds and colors appeared muted, dimmed. My only thought was Steve.
The doctor took me to his body, but I froze in the doorway. He was just lying there. Pale as the sheet that was covering his too small body. He looked as if he were asleep. As if he would wake up at any moment.
"Stevie," I whispered. I reached out to shake his shoulder, but quickly withdrew my hand. His body was cold as death.
No. This was all a trick. A joke. A stupid prank. He was going to wake up any second and laugh at the look on my face. He would say that he got me good and I would agree with him. Then we would walk out of here like this whole thing never happened. He was going to wake up. He had too!
A great heaving sob escaped me as it hit me that he was never going to wake up. I was never going to get to hear his voice again. I would never talk with him or laugh with him again. I could never do anything with him again because he was dead! I let lose another sob and threw myself over Steve's body.
He was still. Too still. Even when he was asleep he was never this still. I pressed my ear into his chest, but there was nothing. No heartbeat. No breath. Nothing.
"You stupid little punk," I wailed, beating my fist gently into Steve's too thin chest. He had had his whole life ahead of him and now it was gone. All in the blink of an eye. "You stupid little punk."
A/N: I actually got the idea for this story from a question on my English homework which was to "write a short paragraph using Poe's style about a visit to the doctor's office that ends in bad news." After a little tweaking and adding a bit more, I came up with this. Please let me know what you think and review!
Update 11/23/16: This fic was recently translated into Russian by user AlexKollins! The link to the translated version is in my profile.