snapshot •josh dun

seven

Run.

The blonde haired boy dashed through the streets, tripping into a murky puddle on his way. Freckles dimmed by mutiny, hair damp from rain, glasses wet from precipitation or tears, he didn't know.

The world is not as it seems.

Josh flew into the lobby of Cheshire Memorial, sprinting up to the receptionists desk.

"Slow down there! Who are you to see today?" The woman asked giggling a bit.

"Abigail Bedford." I say, wringing my hands. Something I did when I was about to have a panic attack. I made a note to try and push it aside, and make it to a restroom to calm down after I knew Abigail was okay.

The woman quickly types the girl name into her computer. After pressing enter, a look of confusion crosses her face.

"We've no Abigail Bedford in the system. We've a Marie Bedford though. Abigail is her emergency contact if that does you any good."

"Yes, thank you. What room?"
"437"

I walk into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall. I sit on the ground, rocking back and forth, hands gripping my wet hair.

She's okay.

After I compose myself, which takes a solid twenty minutes, I exit the bathroom and make my ways up to room 437. Abigail sits on a bench outside the room, crying.

"Abigail?" I ask, timidly walking over to her.
She looks up and quickly wipes away her tears with the sleeve of her forest green turtleneck, lifting up her wire rimmed glasses to do so.

"Joshua? What are you doing here?"
"I went to your apartment, to give you coffee. I saw the door was left open, and the hospital was called. I saw the medications on the table. I thought..."
"No. No. I'm fine. I'm okay."

I take her small frame into mine, wrapping my now dry self around her.

She's crying again.

"What's wrong? Why are you here?" I ask, looking down at her face, blotchy and dampened from crying.

"It's my mum. She's not doing so well. She got hit by the underground. She's been paralyzed from the neck down."

Josh's eyes go wide, mentally picturing such a massive train hitting someone. Josh shakes his head as Abigail cries yet again. She holds me tight, almost as if I would dissipate into thin air.

"I'm here. I'm here Abigail. I'm not leaving you."

"She's wanted to meet you for quite a bit. Do you mind seeing her?" Abigail asked, wiping her tears.
I shake my head no.
"I'd love to see her."

"Thank you." Abigail whispers, holding my hand. I still get the same butterflies I did as when I first laid eyes on her.

We walk into the room, I fix my hair, make myself look presentable.

Her mom is thin. She has the same height and nose as the girl i've known to love. Her hair is a deep brown with grey flecks. She has a tattoo of a semicolon on her ankle as well.

"Hi Mum. This is Joshua. He's the man I told you about." Abigail says, smiling at her mother and taking the seat next to her bedside.

"Hello Mrs. Bedford. I'm Joshua Dun."

"So you're the boy my little girl always talks about? Oh, Abigail, you've picked a good one. And Joshua, you can call me Marie." Her mother laughs, the laugh totally being the opposite of her situation. Not sad at all. As if she knew her own fate and was trying to spend the last moments with whole-hearted joy.

"Mother!" Abigail exclaims, laughing along with her mom.
"Be still love, I'm only kidding. Mind if I have a moment with Joshua?"
Abigail nods and kisses her mum's head before leaving the room.
Her mom notions with her eyes to sit in the chair. I do so.

"Joshua. You've a lovely name. My girl talks about you quite a lot."
"She does?"
"Yes. Ever since her father died when she was young, I'm all she has left. She's an only child. It was quite hard for me to let her go off to pursue her dreams of writing. I wanted her to be a doctor. Nevertheless, I like this profession better. If she had become a doctor, I would've sent her off to Havard in the states. She wouldn't have met you."

I nod, listening to the woman.

"Do you love her?"
"Pardon?"
"Do you love Abigail?"
"Yes. I love her with all my heart. She's one of the greatest people I've ever met."
She nods, blinking slowly, pain medications obviously kicking in.
"Promise. Promise to always love her. To cherish her, and to take care of her. I need to know she'll be okay when I'm gone."

"I promise."

Marie Rose Bedford died four days later.