Oh, my god, this was hard work. I really wasn't looking forward to writing this chapter. I think it went well, in the end.
Also, wanted to thank you guys ( Tato Potato, CBloom2, TheAtomicCheesepuff, ETWentHome and Sweeet-as-honey ) for the feedback.
Lost Without You: Chapter 3 - Anger
{ Cal }
I read the words over and over again, depressed. My hands shake as I put the card down. This can't be happening.
"No." I breathe, suddenly furious, "NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"
There's a light knock on the door, but I can't hear it, the only thing I can hear is my heart beat thrumming angrily in my ears.
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS! YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM AWAY! HE'S MY BROTHER, I NEED HIM! HOW DARE YOU?"
Storming into the living room, I can feel my anger bubble and boil deep in my heart.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THIS? YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE HIM AWAY, WITHOUT A CARE IN THE WORLD? THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO NEED HIM! THE HOSPITAL NEEDS HIM! THE PATIENTS NEED HIM!" I pause; breathing seems to become laboured," I NEED HIM! YOU HAVE TO GIVE HIM BACK!"
No answer. Just like when I came home, and Ethan wasn't here. My hands curl into fists and I throw myself around to face the wall behind me, a fist follows through and smashes straight into a photo on the wall with an unhealthy crunch. I hiss from the pain as glass penetrates my skin and cradle my hand protectively to my chest.
Anger is replaced with pain, and I sink to the floor, sobbing.
{ Rita }
"I don't think he has any other family. Max said he didn't answer the door when he brought the card up earlier, he must not have anyone with him." I say, feeling guilty to be talking about Cal's personal life.
"Even if he doesn't, he still has us." Charlie reassures. I smile sadly and reach up to knock on the door.
We wait for a moment.
"NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" I glance at the senior nurse beside me and he frowns back, worried.
"Cal?" I call through the door. No answer, except-
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS! YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM AWAY! HE'S MY BROTHER, I NEED HIM! HOW DARE YOU?"
"Cal?" Charlie's attempt isn't any more successful than my own.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THIS? YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE HIM AWAY, WITHOUT A CARE IN THE WORLD? THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO NEED HIM! THE HOSPITAL NEEDS HIM! THE PATIENTS NEED HIM! I NEED HIM! YOU HAVE TO GIVE HIM BACK!""
A crash sounds from inside a moment later and I push on the door handle, willing it to be open. I don't have time to be worrying about Cal's security when the door swings open and we both bustle into the living room. Cal kneels on the other side of the room, nursing his bleeding hand as glass shards stick from his appendage.
"Cal!" The two of us rush over and stoop, one on either side of the sobbing doctor.
"Please!" He begs," Please, don't take him! Please, please don't, I love him, my brother, my baby brother…"
His voice gets slower and quieter, less urgent. Whimpering slightly, he slumps against us – into an obviously much needed slumber.
{ Cal }
"Ethan." I can't quite grasp the meaning of the word as I roll slowly back into consciousness, but it seems important.
"Cal?" The voice sounds female. Whoever it is, they're stroking my head soothingly," Shh, it's alright Cal."
The words are meant to calm me, but the important name forces it's way to the front of my mind and demands to escape out of my mouth again.
"Ethan?" I simper, tears building in my eyes.
"It's Rita, sweetheart." Rita. Little blonde nurse. Feisty but kind. She's nice, but where's Ethan?
"Where is he?"
A sharp intake of breath to my right,
"You know he can't be here, Cal." Her voice is low and choked.
"I know, but I want him to be here. I don't want him to leave."
"I know, none of us do." I can hear the smile in her voice," I remember when you first got here, you were terrible to one another, but recently, you could see how much you cared for one another. He told me once, told me he would do anything for you and that he knew you were willing to do the same."
My pent up tears fall once again and she holds me, letting me cry. Only once I manage to stop do I realise that I don't know where I am.
"Where are we?"
"We're in cubicles, Cal. At Holby City Hospital."
Oh. I wasn't expecting that answer.
"Why?" Did I faint at work?
"You don't remember?"
"No, what should I remember?"
"Me and Charlie were coming to see you at your apartment after our shift, to make sure you were alright."
"Yeah?"
"You didn't answer the door and you were shouting. There was a crash and when we got in, you'd punched a picture on the wall. Glass all in your hand."
"Did I faint?"
"No, I think you just fell asleep. You looked exhausted."
"Mm. Oh! The oven! I had a pizza in the oven!" I sit up, panicking. Rita puts a hand on my shoulder.
"Don't worry. We managed to fish your pizza out; it was burned to a crisp. Definitely not edible."
"Oh." I relax back against the bed. The inside of my elbow feels uncomfortable. I look at it, searching for a reason. It turns out to be a needle, and I follow the tube up to a drip just above my head, hanging from a drip stand. My eyebrows scrunch together slightly.
"What's this for?" I question the nurse, confused.
"It's fluids. You seemed a little de-hydrated. There's some pain relief in there too." She explains.
"Oh, right." It seems obvious, now that I think about it. I bring my bandaged hand up into my line of vision and sigh.
"I just missed him, really badly." I whisper, feeling guilty.
"I can't even imagine, Cal. I'm so sorry." Rita murmurs. Which makes me feel better, kind of – at least she didn't say: 'I know exactly how you feel'.
The powder blue curtain is pulled back to reveal Charlie, who steps into the cubicle, shutting the curtain behind him again.
"Sorry it took so long, couldn't find any cello tape." He says, holding something out to me. I take it. It looks like a piece of paper, shiny stripes of tape stretching across it and stopping at the edges. Turning it over, my confusion continues – it's a photo. A photo of me and Ethan, I remember it being taken a few months ago. I also remember Ethan coming home late one morning after having a night shift, looking rather pleased with himself. Without even explaining the source of his joy, he went and hung the picture up on the wall, in a way that made you feel as if that was where the photo belonged – on display, for all to see. It made me feel like I truly was his brother and could barely contain my warmth, letting it out only by slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.
I smile as I remember it now, a little guilty at having destroyed it. A tear slips down my cheek.
"Thanks, Charlie. I mean it."
And my tear lands on the photo.
Was that good? I thought it was kinda shaky, but maybe it was okay. Review? Please?
- Cale xx