Broken Light

~ Chapter Ten ~

I bang my head on the steering wheel until the pain is too much for my brain to handle. It was late in the afternoon when I received the call from Alex's parents. The doctors had done another brain scan and came to the absurd conclusion that Alex had a very a low chance of regaining consciousness. Just like that.

It was hard to pick up all this information through Mrs. Clane's heavy cries. Once I did, we both stayed silent for a minute or two with the exception of the sounds she made as she cried rivers of tears. It seemed unbelievable, and it still does. Is it even possible to calculate someone's likelihood of regaining consciousness? That had to be some sort of bullshit. The hospital must be running out of space or something. You can't just put a number on something like that!

From what she told me, the choice was still theirs. They could have Alex on the ventilators for as long as they wanted. But of course, the doctors made sure to sweet talk their way through, saying things like how so many other patients could be using that space or how Alex had signed up to be an organ donor in the past. And of course, they never forgot to mention how Alex's possibility of waking up was nearly 0.

I still didn't believe it. The moment I heard the news, I got into the car and sped my way to the hospital, not even caring about the red lights I passed on the way. I needed to see Alex myself. I needed to see him with my own two eyes to believe anything. If his chances at waking had lowered, he would surely look different. What if the doctors had just made a stupid mistake because of their long shifts? They needed to check again in front of my own eyes if they were to ever convince me.

As always, things never went as planned. The moment I entered the hospital and asked to be taken to Alex's room, the old nurse at the reception told me that visiting times had ended an hour ago. I wasn't gonna take no for an answer, and so I did what any angry person would have done; I threw a tantrum.

I yelled in the loudest voice my body can muster. Nurses and doctors from closed rooms came out to see the beast that had entered the hospital. I shoved everything I could off the reception desk, only being slightly satisfied when I heard the sound of shattering glass. At that time, I didn't care that other people were around. I wanted to see Alex and that was it.

It took a few minutes for the two buff security guards to come along. Without a moment of hesitation, they picked me and took me out of the hospital. They gave me a warning of some sort with their stern voices, but I was too tired and too angry to even care. I considered spitting at their faces but stopped myself because I knew I needed to see Alex at some point in the next few days. Having myself banned from the hospital would only ruin the possibilities of that happening.

I want to throw endless tantrums. I want to cry until I feel my eyes are too dry to create a single more tear. I just want everything to stop. Or even end. Either or, at this point, I really don't care. I know I should be talking to someone. I know I need to empty myself before the bomb inside me explodes. But there is no one to go to, or at least no one who can fully understand.

There is too much background information for the normal person to comprehend. And even if I had time, the information is not something I would consider sharing with any random person.

My thoughts immediately shift to Renee. She would understand. She always did. She was the only person who always knew the perfect thing to say to calm me down. She was the first person to see me for who I was and accept me as is. Of course she would understand. After all, what was there that she didn't?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

We exited the building once we heard that the therapy session for the week was cancelled. Frankly, I was relieved. I never quite liked the therapy sessions to begin with. Other than wasting my time, they did absolutely nothing for me. Had it not been for Renee, I would have skipped all the sessions from after the first week.