What do you think? Should he just call her already? Should I just start posting the longer chapters and not these skimpy ones?
Like I said to Greenie: "They're already written, man." (And she answered, "I'm a girl.")
--
He didn't know when and he didn't know how, but he'd fallen asleep. He didn't know how long, either. All he knew was that he'd waken up. And when he did, his left arm covered his eyes, draped across depressingly.
He turned onto his side, and he felt immediately as if he would vomit. He didn't dare stand at first, afraid that his fate might come true too soon.
Against a wish, he came to the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror and stared into another blank portrait. Like what seemed so long ago. When he had everything, and he'd walked away from it. He started to wonder what had driven him to that conclusion in the first place.
Really.
He had Abby. He knew he was falling in love with her, and he'd mistaken it for something terrible. A cloud that hung over him. In reality, it was one of the best things that should ever happen to someone. He could have been the luckiest person on earth.
He swept his face down his hand, over his eyes and falling off his chin. Without noticing, he turned the faucet to the left to bring the running water. Again.
It did no relief. Not at all. It ran down his face in a clean, warm stream. Expected to do wonders...
His knees were weak. His arms were hanging against his side once again. His eyes barely open and swollen. Pale and empty, he frowned at the image. If only there was something he could do.
There is, he said. He knew there was. He was trying to act like he didn't to himself, which he learned was the most idiotic mistake he could make with himself.
His hand was cool against his cheek. It brought no relief, but it felt cool. He froze at his own touch and finally waited to cry. But nothing came. He felt guilty.
He move to the toilet. He felt sick. He lifted the lid and bent down in front of it. No tears, just sick again.
--
Still no relief four hours later.
He hadn't attempted to take it away. Why should he try? He didn't deserve to feel any better. Here he was a doctor, refusing medicine.
As he lay down on the bed with the towel around his neck, moist from his recent shower, he glared at the phone. It had been taunting him all night, and all day. He'd chosen not to eat, not to speak, not to leave the room because of it. It was only a matter of time before it drove him into the wall.
His hand blindly touched the smooth, cool wood of the nightstand. It rested an inch from the phone. Each finger extended, reaching out for it. Because he knew he should make the call.
Because he knew he wanted to.
It was something he couldn't live without. It was her. It was her he'd been crazy about from the beginning, and something he'd lied about until... the end.
And here he was. He was calling it the "end." He didn't want to, and he couldn'e believe he was this close to giving up, if he hadn't already.
It was then he realized how stupid, literally stupid he had acted. He was an idiot. All he had to do was call her.
And he knew her number.
--
Sorry that its so short. And I hate that I don't get to post more often, but school and working at the hospital is finally catching up to me. Tough schedule, but I deal. =)
September eleventh yesterday. I wanted to post it that day, but as you all know that wasn't possible. This chapter isn't devoted to the day, seeing as its posted under an ER category. But, in all seriousness, that day hit me hard. I was born in New York City... lived there for six years of my young life. Please pray for everyone who was hit harder that day.
I figured most of you already would have. =)
-me
Like I said to Greenie: "They're already written, man." (And she answered, "I'm a girl.")
--
He didn't know when and he didn't know how, but he'd fallen asleep. He didn't know how long, either. All he knew was that he'd waken up. And when he did, his left arm covered his eyes, draped across depressingly.
He turned onto his side, and he felt immediately as if he would vomit. He didn't dare stand at first, afraid that his fate might come true too soon.
Against a wish, he came to the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror and stared into another blank portrait. Like what seemed so long ago. When he had everything, and he'd walked away from it. He started to wonder what had driven him to that conclusion in the first place.
Really.
He had Abby. He knew he was falling in love with her, and he'd mistaken it for something terrible. A cloud that hung over him. In reality, it was one of the best things that should ever happen to someone. He could have been the luckiest person on earth.
He swept his face down his hand, over his eyes and falling off his chin. Without noticing, he turned the faucet to the left to bring the running water. Again.
It did no relief. Not at all. It ran down his face in a clean, warm stream. Expected to do wonders...
His knees were weak. His arms were hanging against his side once again. His eyes barely open and swollen. Pale and empty, he frowned at the image. If only there was something he could do.
There is, he said. He knew there was. He was trying to act like he didn't to himself, which he learned was the most idiotic mistake he could make with himself.
His hand was cool against his cheek. It brought no relief, but it felt cool. He froze at his own touch and finally waited to cry. But nothing came. He felt guilty.
He move to the toilet. He felt sick. He lifted the lid and bent down in front of it. No tears, just sick again.
--
Still no relief four hours later.
He hadn't attempted to take it away. Why should he try? He didn't deserve to feel any better. Here he was a doctor, refusing medicine.
As he lay down on the bed with the towel around his neck, moist from his recent shower, he glared at the phone. It had been taunting him all night, and all day. He'd chosen not to eat, not to speak, not to leave the room because of it. It was only a matter of time before it drove him into the wall.
His hand blindly touched the smooth, cool wood of the nightstand. It rested an inch from the phone. Each finger extended, reaching out for it. Because he knew he should make the call.
Because he knew he wanted to.
It was something he couldn't live without. It was her. It was her he'd been crazy about from the beginning, and something he'd lied about until... the end.
And here he was. He was calling it the "end." He didn't want to, and he couldn'e believe he was this close to giving up, if he hadn't already.
It was then he realized how stupid, literally stupid he had acted. He was an idiot. All he had to do was call her.
And he knew her number.
--
Sorry that its so short. And I hate that I don't get to post more often, but school and working at the hospital is finally catching up to me. Tough schedule, but I deal. =)
September eleventh yesterday. I wanted to post it that day, but as you all know that wasn't possible. This chapter isn't devoted to the day, seeing as its posted under an ER category. But, in all seriousness, that day hit me hard. I was born in New York City... lived there for six years of my young life. Please pray for everyone who was hit harder that day.
I figured most of you already would have. =)
-me