101 messages from you ~ Minizerk

86

Message received: 8th April 2017 at 07:35am
From, Josh x

I've gotta get out of here, I keep seeing you in the house and I hate it because I know it's not you.
You're in a coma still, in hospital - you're not here, in my room. You're not in my bed. You're not here. You're not.
The moment is like bliss when I see you, the hard part is coming back to reality knowing that you're not there.
I need to get away.

My eyes began to water, the phone in my hand weighed down my arms like I was holding several bricks. I dropped back, my back resting on the thin sheet which covered the rock hard hospital bed mattress, an even thinner sheet draped across my body.

I turned onto my side, legs tangled in the duvet. I stared over the text, the bright light from the phone screen reflecting across my face. The words stuck in my mind, a sickness forming in my stomach that choked me up to the point where I couldn't bear to look at the phone for any longer.

Locking the phone, I stretched my arm out and dumped the phone on the bedside table, which had bottles of tablets, a paper bowl, a cheese sandwich on a plate and a glass of orange juice already on it.

I turned over in the bed, facing away from the phone which felt like a shadow of all my sins, all my fears, towering over me. Staring, mocking me, to remind me that I had ruined so many people out of my own self hate.

My eyes bored into the heart monitor, I watched the steady beat of my own heart on the screen for what felt like hours until eventually, despite being asleep for months, my eyelids dropped and I drifted off into a troubled doze.

And whilst I was sleeping, I could see Josh.

He was right there, right infront of me, as clear as day. He looked so real, so angelic, so...happy.

We were in his bedroom, and although Josh was sat on his chair infront of me, I didn't need to see him to know that he was pouting with his arms folded across his chest, sulking at the fact I'd just beaten him at a game of FIFA. Three times in a row. I was grinning like a mad man, my hand up in the air and the playstation controller hanging limply from my fingers on my right hand.

I didn't even need to say anything, I just continued to smile at Josh, who could see my reflection, whilst he stared at his monitor, which had the final scores plastered across it. 5 - 2, to me.

"I can't believe you beat me three times in a fucking row" He mumbled, scowling at the brightly lit screen, as if his glare would charge the scores.

I chuckled, and he slowly turned around in his chair, away from the monitor, to look at me with pursed lips "How does that even happen?"

Sticking my tongue out at him, I chucked my controller onto the desk and unfolded my legs from where I was sat on the bed to stretch my long limbs "You're just shit"

He glared at me, and I did my best to hide my smile by covering it up with a stutter "Well, I mean, I guess it was just luck" I corrected myself quickly "You know, I clearly fouled several times and totally didn't deserve that penalty..." I trailed off mid sentence, but decided to carry on "where you tackled me in the box, which wasn't on purpose?"

I could see Josh's eyes sparkling as he stood up from his chair, looking down at me. I stared up at him, losing myself with a lopsided grin until he whacked me gently on the side of the head with his controller "You're such an idiot, Si"

"Hey!" I exclaimed as Josh dumped his controller down on the desk and took a sip of water "That's my head you just hit! That's where I get all my brainpower from"