𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍
NOVEMBER 3RD, 1984

Even though Nurse Allison protested, Scarlette resolutely remained in Will's room, her determination unwavering. The IV remained attached, and the stand accompanied her like a silent sentinel, but she refused to abandon Will's side. Mike had dragged in an extra chair from her room, along with the one he had been napping in beside Will's bed, forming a small fortress of support around their friend. Both were steeped in worry, their hearts heavy with unspoken fears.

Scarlette began to tap her socked foot against the cold concrete floor, the little grips on the bottom creating a rhythmic sound that echoed in the stillness. The room was suffocatingly quiet; hours had slipped by since the doctor last checked in on them. Joyce, overwhelmed by the silence and the weight of uncertainty, finally threw open the door and stormed out into the hallway. The muffled sounds of commotion filtered in from outside, a chaotic symphony of voices, but Scarlette couldn't decipher any of the words. Moments later, Bob followed suit, his face a mask of concern, eager to lend a helping hand.

Scarlette turned her gaze back to Will, her heart sinking as she saw him staring blankly at the ceiling, a lifeless expression etched across his features. He didn't blink, as if trapped in a waking nightmare from which he couldn't escape. Mike, sensing the desolation that hung in the air, glanced anxiously between Scarlette and Will. His instinct kicked in, and without hesitation, he reached out, grabbing Will's arm and giving it a firm shake. "Will? Will!" he called, his voice rising with urgency, a lifeline thrown into the depths of Will's seemingly endless despair.

Will jolted slightly at the touch, a flicker of awareness igniting in his eyes. For a brief moment, the ghost of a smile danced across his lips, though it quickly faltered under the weight of his struggle. Scarlette leaned forward, her heart racing at the sight of her friend returning to them, even if just a little. The lifeless glaze that had coated his gaze began to dissipate, revealing the boy she had grown to cherish, but the remnants of fear still lingered in the corners of his expression.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain again?" Scarlette's voice trembled slightly as she watched the tense exchange between Mike and Will. The moment felt suspended in time, filled with an unspeakable weight. She hadn't spoken much since her heated argument with the nurses, advocating fiercely to remain by Will's side. Now, silence cloaked the room, wrapping around them like a suffocating shroud. Scarlette felt mentally exhausted, grappling with a torrent of anxiety and helplessness; it was as if the air itself was thick with uncertainty, stifling every thought that dared to surface.

Will's gaze shifted, piercing through the haze of concern. "I saw something," he murmured, his eyes locked on Mike before gradually moving to Scarlette. Mike's expression shifted from curiosity to dread, the color draining from his face. He gulped hard, his breath catching in his throat. "In your memories?" The simple question hung in the air, heavy with implications. Will responded with a slow, almost imperceptible nod, and Scarlette's heart sank. Each time he communicated this way—relying on nods instead of words—chilled her to the bone. It was unsettling, like witnessing a shadow lurking just beyond the reach of light.