SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 40

SO COLD

It was late evening by the time I arrived back in town, gas was running low in the Shogun and the windshield wipers skidded across the glass. It wasn't hard getting a parking space in the car park, many were leaving with worn faces and caved in shoulders, the trouble was finding the right change for the ticket. I found an ATM machine a couple of streets over, joined the traffic once more and finally made it to the front desk.

Worry wormed its way into my brain, and my thinking was hectic, I imagined the worst. Irvin wasn't answering his phone anymore and my calls went straight to voicemail. I hoped and wished that Daniel was alright, that he wasn't dead. I crossed my fingers and did everything but get down on my knees and prayed to a higher power I didn't believe in. That would be hypocritical. "Hi," I sounded out of breath. "My friend Daniel was brought in today. It was a suicide attempt. Can you tell me what room he's in?"

"Visiting hours are almost over." The reception voice was nasally, unbothered.

"Almost, but not actually over, right? What room is he in?" I insisted, remaining civil.

She sighed like I had told her to climb a fucking mountain for me and not move her fat fingers to the keyboard to key in his name. Her chair swivelled forward, and she rested her wrist on the desk. And then she looked up, "What did you say his name was again?"

"Daniel Williams."

She was excruciatingly slow, she typed as if she'd never used a keyboard before and the mouse was dragged unhurriedly. I wanted to grab the stapler and bash out her brains with it. My fingers drummed on the desk, my jaw was clenched, gaze drilling into her blonde head. Around me came the sound of low talk of taking the kids home, soda dropping from a vending machine, an old man's cough, machines beeping, the photocopier being used and soft footsteps. There was a strong smell of disinfectant and mint, and the stench of misery, of people dying of cancer and the morbid depression that lingered in the dark corners of hallways. Hospitals fucking sucked.

At long last: "Room C12."

"Thanks," I darted off, bursting through doorways, jabbing a button for the elevator, foot patting impatiently and then past closed doorways, a cleaner with a trolley, children's paintings on walls, machines humming and then found myself at the door of room C12. I walked in, and found growing despair and Irvin with his head in his hands sitting beside Daniel who was asleep, hooked up to an IV fluid bag, needles were stuck into his arm, and a white wristband was slapped around his wrist. He had purple and green bruises around his neck, there were rope burns and deep indents on his skin. He seemed still in his sleep, neither peaceful nor angry, almost motionless. His soft breathing was heard, his chest rising and falling.

"How is he? What happened?" I was so wound up, stressed and scared. Seeing him did nothing to ease the taut bones, sickness in the pit of my stomach, the overwhelming dread.

Irvin glanced up, chin now in his palms, exhausted, drained of energy. "He's sedated, he's been pumped with mood stabilizers and some sort of acidic supplement, man, I can't even remember. It's all a blur. The doctors said he's stable, and he'll recover but he's going to be kept in and he's seeing the psychiatrist tomorrow. If all goes well, he'll be released in a few days and if not, he'll be hospitalised, whether he likes it or not."

"How did this happen, Irvin? It's been two weeks since he left Oaktown. He was doing well and now this? It makes no sense."

"It's been hard on him, I should've been there for him, I ...it's all my fault. I was so busy I didn't check up on him. His uncle has tried for an appeal, and I found this letter from his mother at the flat. She was begging him to support him, to go to court and say he lied about the abuse. It was..." Irvin shook his head, voice almost breaking, he looked away. "You should've seen him, I was so fucking terrified. Walking in, seeing him gasping, the chair kicked over. The rope on his neck. I didn't know it was this bad. I should've known, he's my best friend." He cried then, ducking his head as if he was ashamed.