On The Edge
I stared into his desperate hazel brown eyes glowing with specks of green or blue. No…this can't be happening…no…please no…
Sweat rushed down his forehead and neck like the pouring rain outside.
He grasped my hand tightly as he tried to breathe. Tears glistened like jewels in his perfect eyes. His pink lips moved, but no sound came out.
With my other hand, I removed the dry towel from his clammy forehead and replaced it with a fresh, wet one. As I did it, I knew it would be in vain. For weeks, the illness had chased him and plagued him with worry and anxiety, with the Grim Reaper not far behind. Finally two days ago, he ran out of energy and gave up. The illness caught up and attacked him mercilessly all day and all night. He fought against it, and he would continue until his last inch of life.
Trudy said she couldn't do anymore to help him.
The doctors said they couldn't do anymore to help him.
The specialists said they couldn't do anymore to help him.
Even his father, Sweetie, said he couldn't do anymore to help him.
Why are they so pessimistic?! Why are they giving up on him?! He is a strong guy and can face any sort of danger! He risked his life for us-his friends! He endured the wrath of angry, cold Victor and the stubbornness of Sweetie to save us from deep trouble.
Am I the only one that still believed he would recover?
Am I the only one that still believed that in the morning, he will be sauntering down the corridor and planning the next prank on Sweetie?
Am I the only one that still believed I would hear his joking voice again?
Tears trickled down my face as his hand felt colder and icier by the minute.
No…he can't be leaving me…!
His nose twitched, and it almost made me laugh.
Almost.
For a second, our brief life together flashed before my eyes.
The day we first met when I told him off for sleeping on the lounge…the masque ball when he asked me to dance and I thought of him as a decent guy…the next day when I discovered he made a bet against Jerome and dunked a jug of milk on him in anger…the time when we officially became boyfriend and girlfriend…our first emotional kiss…how persistent he was to continue our relationship even when I became a Sinner…
A tear dropped on his pale hand with a small splat.
He managed a smile and laughed softly, almost killing himself in the process. A slime ball symptom included an extremely sore throat.
Reluctantly moving his hand from mine, I opened the small vial of liquid that smelled like piss and gently poured the last remaining drops down his throat. He swallowed and coughed, grimacing at the disgusting taste of it. I smiled reflectively.
We stared at each other for a few minutes.
Just stared.
The thunder rolled outside and flashes of lightning appeared. The rain pattered heavily and smashed into tinier droplets of water against the window. I heard faint voices from the kids running on the streets and soft murmurings in the corridors. I didn't care. The few minutes we gazed into each others' eyes wasn't enough to last a lifetime.
I shifted closer to him. Slightly shaking, he reached out and stroked my wavy, reddish brown hair, still looking deeply in my eyes. None of us spoke.
"I'll miss you, Yacker," he whispered hoarsely. "Don't stop me. Please. Even the weather knows that I will kick the bucket any day now."
"You won't," I said stubbornly. "I won't let you."
"Remember when you called me a nightmare? Am I still one now? You see that glass of water over there? You're welcome to spill it on me anytime. I always thought that going to a UK boarding school would be pretty awful and depressing, and thought my future involved lying on a sandy beach next to a tanned, bikini girl in America, not becoming the Osirian and finding out that the girl of my dreams is a British girl that couldn't stop talking."
"Oh, stop being like Jerome!"
"You prefer me calling you 'Yacker', Yacker? Even though Nina's the Chosen One, I've chosen you to be my girlfriend. I know you must've thought that KT and I were dating or something after we…broke up, but I promise you that nothing happened between us. As long as I'm the Osirian, you'll always be my Isisian. In mythology, I'm Osiris, you're my Isis. Wouldn't it be funny if we had a kid and called him 'Horus'? I know, a lame joke even for me."
"I rather not think of that, but even if I do, that day might come. You still have a sunny future and will be laughing and pranking by tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the next day. The doctors have given up on you, but I haven't! Lie back. I'll get your medicine."
"Whatever you say Nurse Yacker!"
He gave me the lazy smirk I always loved.
I smiled back and playfully slapped him as I always did. Perhaps the doctors are wrong and he will be cured and healthy again!
The door opened, and Trudy came in.
"Patricia, you have to go now," she said, steering me away. "The visiting hours are almost over and Mr Sweet wants to see his son. You can visit him again soon."
"See ya, Yacker," he called from his bed.
I briskly walked back to him, and for a split second, stared at him again.
I leant towards him, and our lips touched.
We kissed for half a minute and all I could think about was him. We broke away and I felt an airy and joyous sensation.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I said, allowing Trudy to lead me away.
Little did I know that it was the last time I would see him again.
Alive.
First House of Anubis story, so please be nice and review! :)