Hold me [ Dylan Sprayberry Fanfic ]

Chapter 22

Bridget's POV
I watched from the hospital window, as my mother and Olivia dragged beat up red suitcases across the parking lot. My mother pauses to speak to Olivia, who'd momentarily dropped to her knees--letting the weathered suitcase fall onto the cracking sidewalk. She threw her hair back from her face, the morning sunlight casting a shadow under her tired eyes, as she seemed to sigh from somewhere in her heart. Olivia eventually got up, her eyes though, didn't leave the ground. I knew I should've went down there to meet them half way and help with my bags, but I couldn't move. I didn't want to leave him.

It'd been a whole week since Dylan had been admitted into the hospital, they'd put him into a medically induced coma for his own sake--the time he woke up, according to Dr. Wilson, varied upon certain circumstances I didn't care to remember. I stayed because I knew Dylan would be doing the same thing, if it was me laying in pieces in a hospital bed. All that week, I hadn't left his bedside; except to use the bathroom and the occasional shower, like today.
The tips of my hair still dripped, I was wearing one of the few outfit's my mother had brought me from home, my nose was running from the chill of the hospital, and I couldn't imagine how my eyes looked now. Blood-shot, from crying. I sniffed, and wiped my nose with my sleeve. I'd given everyone a hard time, I know.

Daniel always brought me lunch, something different everyday; but it all tasted like sawdust to me. He told jokes and stories to distract me, stories that would've made me laugh, but I couldn't bring myself too. He'd soon leave, and tell me the same thing on the way out, "I'm here for you, Sunshine. Just call, and I'll come running." I knew he meant it, but I never called; even when I really needed someone to talk to. I'd be a burden. The Spraybery's came everyday, unlike me, they couldn't sit in the same room with a checked out Dylan. They usually sat in the waiting room, Mr. Reed, Mrs. Tasha, and Crystal--i couldn't blame them.

It'd hit Crystal just as hard as it hit me I heard; she didn't go to school, she didn't eat, she didn't do anything.
I propped myself up on my elbows, and stared. I felt numb. It was like I was trying to feel everything at once, and all of that everything had piled up in my head, my limbs, so much until it'd been blocked out. Dylan was a ghost of his former self. He was laying in the same position the doctor's had placed him in; both arms rested outside of the thick white blankets, he wasn't wearing a shirt--his abdomen was wrapped in soft gauze, the tattoo that splayed across his chest, 'My Sins Are Endless', made the guilt weigh a little more with each time I dared look at it. Dylan's tan skin was a shade paler, his ashen lips mumbled nonsensical words on occasion; I couldn't help but think this was all my fault. Dylan wouldn't have came out in the storm if it wasn't for me, if I didn't run into that guy--If i'd been able to take care of myself.
I shook my head, and swiped at a stray tear. He looked so broken, laying in front of me.

The door to his room swung open, and the ugly suitcases collapsed onto the white floors, following after them weremy mother and Olivia, and the tiniest figure hidden behind my them. Crystal. The three of them filed in awkwardly, and I still hadn't bothered to look at them directly. I couldn't take my eyes away from him.
"We have more clothes," Olivia said, her voice sounded farther away and hollow. I didn't say anything.
Olivia walked up beside me, and pressed her hands to the hard plastic rail of his bed; her eyes on Dylan. My mother and Crystal stood in the doorway, as if there was an invisible field stopping them from coming in.
Olivia put her small hand on my shoulder, I finally tore my eyes away from him to look at her. Her eyes were watering up again, her hair was tossed back in a quick pony-tail, she was wearing a violet dress decorated with little pink roses. There were no artificial tattoo's on her arms, not a single phrase or cartoon. Her skin was slightly pink, only recently had she scrubbed all of them off. I managed a half-smile,
"Hey Olly, how's school?" My robotic voice echoed off of the walls, bouncing back and smacking me against my face.
"How are you, Bridge?" She sounded like she was a little adult.
"Fine." I didn't know what I was, but I knew it wasn't anything close to 'fine.'
I felt my smile begin to fade, and I turned back to Dylan; resting my chin on my arm and staring at his eyelids, waiting for them to flutter.
Waiting for them to open.