Chapter 3: The Hospital

I slept in Evan's room, thinking no one would look for me there.

Actually, to say I "slept" was an overstatement. I lay down on top of his quilt, put my head on his pillow, and crushed his stuffed Fredbear against my chest. Both the bear and the pillow smelled strongly of pepperoni. I drifted in and out of shadowy semi-consciousness for a few hours until a door opened.

At the tell-tale creak, I curled tighter into a fetal position. What were they doing here? Wasn't it too painful for them to enter this room?

"Michael?" a voice whispered before a large hand rested on my shoulder. Uncle Henry.

"I'm sorry," I croaked. I hadn't spoken since yesterday's party, and words came out scratchy.

"I know you are." The bed squeaked as Henry sat beside me and brushed tousled hair away from my clammy forehead. "How can I help you?"

He couldn't help me, and I didn't want him to. "How's Evan?" I asked instead of replying.

Uncle Henry hesitated and cleared his throat. "He's still hanging in there. He's a tough little guy."

"Yeah, he is."

Silence stretched on for several moments, then Henry said, "I hate to ask, but I'm here on a retrieval mission. William asked if I could bring that plushie to the hospital. I'm not sure how Evan would feel about it under the circumstances, but he's still asleep, and I think it would help your father having it around. It can wait if…"

"No," I interrupted, and thrust the bear into his lap. I sat up and tried to look him in the face. I couldn't raise my eyes any higher than his wide chest. "Is Dad still there?"

"No, William and I stayed there all night during the surgery, but he left this morning and asked me to bring Fredbear back to the hospital."

Dad never stayed still for long, even under the best circumstances. "I want to come."

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

My voice quivered like Evan's when I said, "I need to see him."

Another pause. "I'll ask your mother." He slipped away, and as soon as I could stand, I trailed after him.

I stopped just short of the kitchen, where Henry and my mother were talking. "Absolutely not!" Mum said. "What if he hurts Evan again?"

"He wouldn't do that! It was a thoughtless prank. A senseless accident. Michael feels terrible right now, and he's terrified. He's certainly learned his lesson. I wouldn't be surprised if he became the best big brother ever after this."

A drawn-out sigh filled the kitchen and drifted to me. "Fine. Take him."

"What about you?"

"I can't."

"Clara…"

"I can't look at him right now. Either of them."

"I understand. I'll check on you later. For now, I'll see to the boys." Uncle Henry returned to me and said, "You should get cleaned up." I shrugged, and he insisted, "It's important to have a clean environment in the hospital."

"Oh." I shuffled away to peel off the grey tank top, jean shorts, and everything else I'd been wearing since yesterday. Brown crusty stains dotted the fabric. I left everything in the trash instead of the laundry hamper.

I showered, fumbled into the first replacements I found, and hurried out of the bathroom without looking at the mirror. I didn't know how much I looked like myself or Evan or Dad right now, but there was no good answer.

I rejoined Uncle Henry, and he asked, "Do you think you could handle a little breakfast?" I shook my head, and he said, "Well, do me a favor and try to drink something."

On any other day, I would've been mad at him for talking to me like I was half my age. Today, I obediently filled a glass with tap water and took a few sips. It was all I thought I could safely get down, so I left the rest of the water on the kitchen counter, but Henry nodded and said, "Good job."

After that, we puttered silently to the hospital. I wanted to tell him again how sorry I was, that I'd trade places with Evan if I could, but it was all useless. I couldn't tell what, if anything, he wanted to say to me. Fredbear watched us both from the back seat.

Henry knew what I'd done, and nothing he said could change it. Nothing would help Evan or me. Maybe he knew that.

It was jarring when we finally got into the hospital and Henry introduced me to a nurse. I flinched at the sudden rumble of his voice. The nurse turned on a sad smile. Clearly, she didn't know that I made an animatronic bear bite my brother.

She offered her sympathies, and my stomach turned. My mouth was too dry to reply, but I stuck close as she led us to Evan's room.

"How is he?" Henry asked.

"He woke up just after you left," she replied. "We left voicemails with his parents, but we couldn't get ahold of them. He's sleeping again now."

"How did he seem?"

The efficient pat-pat of her feet on the reflectively-white floor punctuated the silence before she answered. "He was confused. He didn't say anything, and he wasn't able to focus on anything, but it's a good sign. He's still on an IV, but Dr. Talbert would like to start him on oral antibiotics if he seems stable."

Stable. What an unlikely word that was.

"If you're in touch with Evan's parents," the nurse continued, "would you let them know that the doctor would like to speak to them?"

"I'll will."

It took forever to reach Evan's room, but I still wasn't prepared for the reveal past the nondescript brown door.

He was all alone, his head bandaged, and his arm connected to a plastic tube. The tube dribbled a clear liquid into him. Monitors beeped steadily beside his bed, attached to his other arm, but otherwise, everything was still. I inched closer – just enough to see his chest rise and fall beneath the blankets.

Henry watched me for a moment, then asked, "Would it be possible for me to be added as an emergency contact for Evan, or to make decisions on his behalf? If William and Clara allow it. They're not in much shape to be making decisions right now."

"You'd have to get one of them in here to fill out some paperwork, but yes, that happens sometimes. Why don't I leave you three alone for now?"

"Thank you." His eyes shifted away from her as she retreated, and he said, "You can come closer if you'd like, but you don't have to."

Picking up one lead foot after another, I forced myself to the side of the hospital bed and idly brushed the scratchy mint-green blanket. The sheets beneath didn't look like they felt much better. I collapsed into one of the hard plastic visitors' chairs beside the bed. Uncle Henry took the other, and I asked, "How can you?"

"What?" He blinked in confusion. "How can I what?"

"How can you make decisions right now? How can you be so calm?"

"I've…" He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "I've been through something like this before." He folded his hands in his lap, though they twitched restlessly against each other like they were trying to get free. They probably wanted to be building something right now. They managed to stay still enough while Henry said, "I lost my son when he was very young. He was Charlie's twin. Sammy." The word dragged itself reluctantly out of his mouth. "It's just Charlie and me now."

His wife had left years ago. Charlie told me about that before, but she never said why. I didn't ask. The "why"s of grownups were often complicated.

"I'm sorry," I said, even though this one had nothing to do with me. "Did I know you back then?"

"No, your dad and I owned separate pizzerias at the time."

Everything besides that question was too personal to ask. I wanted to ask how he lost Sammy, but he didn't share, and it felt wrong trying to force my way into something like that.

Anyway, the moment was lost when another nurse came in to fill out a clipboard at the foot of Evan's bed. "How are you holding up?" he asked me, and I shrugged. He tried again, "And who's that little guy?"

He pointed to Fredbear, who was currently getting suffocated in my arms. I set him down on a counter with a lone bouquet. Blood rushed back to my arms, and I rubbed at them. It felt like I'd been hugging a rock. "It's a friend for Evan."

The man nodded like he had the full picture and said, "That's nice. You're a really good big brother."

That phrase triggered a wave of pain that started me bawling in front of this stranger. I couldn't stop, even when Uncle Henry took me in his arms and pulled me in to his grease-scented flannel shirt.

I cried until I had no more tears left in me. There was nothing left in me at all.

I got quiet and still, and Uncle Henry led me back to the chair. I stared straight ahead at Evan's pale face – even paler than usual. Everything, even his hair, had lost color. His breath was soft and raspy, like someone had punched him in the chest.

His monitors beeped quicker, and Uncle Henry rose. "Wait here. I'm going to get that nurse back."

I hadn't realized the nurse had left.

With Uncle Henry gone, I was alone with my brother. I didn't know if I ever would be again.

Through sheer force of will, I scooted up on the seat and made myself speak. "Can you hear me? I don't know if you can hear me. I'm sorry." It wasn't much, but it was all I had.

The frantic hospital beep became one shrill, even note. An alarm. The sort I'd heard on TV before.

As the note held, a small, distorted voice whispered, "You're broken. We're still your friends. Do you still believe that? I'm still here. I will put you back together." I must've imagined the voice, but it sounded like it came from Fredbear.

Doctors and nurses flooded in, pulled me away, and concealed Evan with the press of their bodies. The sea of scrubs buzzed frantically, but the whispered voice went silent.

The machines went silent.

It was over.