House of Glass

This was entirely my fault this was happening. If only I had been more aware. If only I had seen what my friend was going through. If only I could've helped him before this all happened. Instead I ignored the signs and did nothing. Now I am faced with the consequences. My best friend is lying on a hospital bed in a coma. The room is stark white and the machine's beeping is the only sound I can hear. It reminds me that this isn't a dream, that this is reality. Sitting here in this small room makes me feel trapped. Cutting, that's why he is here. It was all the bulling and torment he went through at school that pushed him over the edge. He always played it off as if it was nothing. Never once letting his façade fall and always telling me that he was fine. He started wearing long sleeve shirts, that covered his arms and I never once questioned it. One day he came home and didn't say a word to me as he passed, just went up to his room and shut the door. Hours went by and he still hadn't come downstairs and when I went up there to check on him, that's when I found him. Lying on the floor, knife in hand and a trail of blood oozing from his arm was the image of him forever burned into by memory. I screaming for who knows how long, yet I don't recall how we got here. All I know is that his older brother was here at the hospital as well when I regained my sense. I assume he brought us, though I couldn't say with certainty that's what happened, everything went by in such a blur.

I'm sitting at his bed side waiting for him to wake up, to move, something to let me know he is alive and still holding on. A week has gone by and there has been no change. I'm not much of a believer, but I have prayed to god every night in hopes he will somehow answer, somehow save him. He always looks like he is having a nightmare and remembered how many of those very same nightmares he had had before. Horrible, wretched ones about the mistakes he made that cost his friend's loves. He would never wake up screaming or crying, but in a cold sweat. I would be lying in my bed, staring at the bare ceiling, the faint creak of the door pulling me out of my thoughts that consumed my mind on night such as those. It was always him, wanting comfort from the recent terror he had been through. I never denied him, never turned him away, I was the only stable thing left that he had and I never took that for granted.

Seeing him now helpless, like a small child, irked me. He was always my stone, the person I could rely on when I was having a hard time. Now it was he who was in trouble and I could do nothing. All I can do is stay at his side and wait. Eventually I fall asleep with my head resting on his bed. I dream of him being taken away from me. The loud, screeching wind tears him away from my fingers and leaving me with nothing. Wind, the one thing I had control over, was now ridding me of the only thing that I held dear. I awoke to fingers gently stroking my hair. I slowly opened my eyes and suddenly noticed his hand was gone was that his hand was gone. I panicked, not knowing what to do, if he was really gone. I quickly realized though that I was him that was playing with me hair. I slowly raised my head, sleep still clinging to my mind as I looked up at him. He smiled, not a smirk, but a genuine smile. Finally registering that he was awake I nearly forgot how to speak, so instead I smiled as well.

"Hey." he said. His voiced was rough from no use for over a week. Joy spread throughout my body, an emotion I haven't felt in what felt like eternity.

"I missed you so much" Every thread of anxiety and dread seem to leave in a sudden rush. He was awake and I felt like crying. I had not cried once since getting to this bleached white room and I felt like I was at my limit. Confusion was easily visible on his face and was soon replaced with understanding and then guilt. He lowered his eyes refusing to meet mine.

"I'm sorry." He says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't worry. I forgive you." I say reassuringly. He slowly raises his head, bright crimson meeting deep cerulean.

"But, I made you cry"

Tears. That's what I felt. Everything that I had kept bottled up in these trying days suddenly came out and I couldn't stop them, so I cried. I told myself that I didn't care what had happened in the past as long as he would live, but in truth I did care. I cared so much that my chest hurt and my head felt like it was going to explode. Through ragged breathing and staggered hiccups, I told how much he scared me and about how I thought he was going to die. He remained silent until I finally calmed down.

"I really thought I was going to lose you and I would never be able to forgive myself if that happened. Please don't ever do that again. Please." He slowly turned eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and hope.

"You really care about me that much?" Hesitance could be heard in every word he spoke. I did not answer with words, but instead with actions. I leaned forward and kissed him, pouring all the relief and love I felt into it. I didn't if he rejected me, but in that moment all I could think about was how much I truly loved this person no matter what he thought. As the seconds ticked on they felt like hours and I reluctantly broke the kiss. I did not look at him, fearing there would be disgust in his eyes, but when I took a chance and glanced over I saw nothing but warmth in them. The once cold and indifferent rubies became soft and no longer held resentment to the cruel world that alienated him for his difference.

"I love you" That's what his eyes said and I needed no other convincing. My name is John Egbert, I'm 17 years old and I have never felt happier in my entire life.