Almost A Year

Chapter 21

I don't really need a wheelchair but Dad insisted, so I wheel myself along the hospital halls, trying to remember my way back to the ward where my elderly friend would be. The familiar scent of disinfectant is suffocating. They must have just cleaned the floors.

The ward is quiet when I manage to find my way there. The attending nurse at the counter raises his head and when he sees me approaching, he gives a smile. I smile back. He assumes I'm a patient in one of the wards around here and gets back to his work. I'm about to reach the room where Steven should be when the little girl ghost rushes out from the wall in a panic. She grabs my hand and drags me out of the chair and into the room.

Steven's face is pale, extremely so and his eyes are rolled up while his body shakes vigorously. Foam begins to pour out of his mouth and that's the moment I snap out of it.

I quickly turn to call for the nurse. "Nurse, Steven's having a fit!"

The nurse in turn pages for a doctor as he rushes toward the room. I step back out of the room to stay out of his way and sink back down into the wheelchair. I bury my face in my hands because I don't want to watch this. What if it's actually a stroke? If he's dying, I don't want to watch it. Through the gaps between my fingers, I see the little girl's bare feet facing in the direction of the room. She must be watching the ordeal. Is she watching him die?

A doctor and another nurse rush past me into the room. More ghosts float toward me and I uncover my face to see what they're doing. They're crowding around the door, like bugs drawn to light. They're waiting for him to die. A few of them even look excited for a possible new comrade. The little girl ghost turns to gaze sadly into my eyes. She doesn't want him to die. Neither do I, I try to say with my eyes. I hold my arms out for her to come to me. She floats into my arms and sits on my lap.

She feels even colder than before when I held her hand, like a wet chill that grows increasingly cold with every passing moment she's still in my arms. I hear the monitor's alarming beeps go off, signifying the end is near for Steven. His heart rate must be going low. A few of the ghosts start to get excited, they'll be able to see the result soon. I just held the little girl in my arms, letting her cold numb my pain. Neither of us are crying, as though clinging on the last hopes that we may not need to mourn for him. But before long, the beeping becomes a single continuous and monotonous sound – it's a flat liner.

I hug the little girl tightly, knowing her tears will soon spill out.

When the doctor and nurses come out from the room, they ask if I'm his family member. I merely shake my head.

"Ah, I remember you," the doctor says. I remember him too. It's Jean, my attending doctor when I first woke up. "You must have come back to visit him." I nod blankly. "Such sad timing. I am sorry you have lost your friend, Rebecca."

I nod again. I want to grieve, to mourn for him, but my well is all dried out. I've been crying too much. I've been in too much pain. I can't cry anymore, I simply stare numbly at the floor, unable to speak or move. Breathing is the bare minimum I can manage.

"Do you want to see him?" Jean asks me. I shake my head. "Ah, of course not. I am sorry, I sometimes forget how hard it is. I myself have been too hardened by having to witness death so often." I don't respond and I know without seeing his expression that he's bothered by me.

Wordlessly, he pushes me over to a waiting area and parks me next to a chair. He leaves for a moment and returns with a hot cup of chocolate.

"I got this from my secret stash in the staff kitchen," Jean tells me in a slightly playful tone.