Remembering Taylor Mason (Rewritten, 2020)

Chapter One: Liam

The hospital is an oddly clean place for all the unwashable stains it seems to  generouslyi and sometimes permanently  paste on people's lives.

I wake up and scoot around in disorientation, staring down at the white polished floor, thinking,

What the hell happened?

I swat at the nasel tube that I have apparently aquired as the memory comes fluding back to me like turbulent ocean waves.

My  best friend has just been hit by  a car...

I jolt and turn around to find Samara sitting in the chair opposite my bed. The girl looks like she's gonna obliverate.

She glances up at me, her tear-filled  doe blue eyes locking with mine, sympathetically.

"You're gonna be okay, Liam," she reassures, even though we both know I don't give a damn about myself right now.

Buckets of sweat begin to pour down my face.  A  god awful pit anchors itself at the bottom of my     stomach and my lungs start to cry out for air.  I try to collect myself. I know I should toughen up. I know I can't be soft. I know I can't fall apart, but the room is spinning...

and swallowing me up...

"Taylor.  Taylor. Taylor.  Taylor. Taylor," I stutter rhythmically, like a heartbeat. "Sam, you need to tell me... you need to tell me...  you  need to tell me...."

I run my hands through my  red shaggy hair, nervously.   I don't feel as if I'm breathing at all, but I must be, because Samara suddenly appears next to me and tells me to stop hyperventilating.

I look at her,  wide-eyed and timid for the first time in a long while. Though I see that her arms are around me, I can't feel her embrace.

I can't feel anything but the pulsing electricity of anxiety running through my veins. 

Please be okay, Taylor ...

"Liam, I need you to breathe.... okay?" Samara pleads, her  voice slowly breaking like the light orange hue of dawn.

"Tell me he's okay, Sam. Tell me he's gonna be okay."

I pull away from her and can see the answer to my vital question burned onto her face.

She lets out a full, helpless cry. Tears spill down her flushed cheeks, tumbling onto her dark blue dress.

"I'm so sorry.... I'm so sorry.... I'm so sorry, Liam."

My belly burns flames of rage, sadness, regret... I need to get it out...  I need it to be untrue.... I need my best friend...  this pain is unbearable.... I need to get it out...

So I vomit all over the white polished floor.

I guess it's not so clean now, eh?
"Taylor... He's not dead. Sam, he's not... no." I start laughing a big booming laugh that even I haven't heard before. This must be what losing my mind feels like... "No, it's a joke... he's always doing this to us, being overly dramatic... he probably just told the doctor to tell you that to pull our legs... you know him and his annoyingly convincing jokes." I try my best to crack a smile and make myself believe what I am saying, but my eyes become watered and pleading.
Samara looks at me with utter sympathy. An expression I have never quite experienced before. And I don't care for it.
"No, Liam, Taylor died half an hour ago. I tried to revive him when he got hit—and it worked— but the impact of the truck... it was too much for his body to withstand... and eventually..."
Samara breaks down. I slide closer and soften my voice as I put my arm around her.
"I told you.... he's just messing with us... he's fine Sam. He's not dead... no way! He'll come around the corner any second wearing that goofy grin of his, and we'll be mad as hell, but he'll be fine... he's always fine..."
"No.. Liam.. not— not this time."
"No! Sam, no! You're wrong... what they told you... it's just plain wrong!"
I rip off the nasal tube and IV as I sprint down the hall.
"Liam, come back here!" Samara yells, running after me. There's no denying she's fast, but I'm faster. Just as I'm about to make my escape, a doctor corners me and quietly ushers me back to my room. I get a stabbing pain in my head and realize vaguely that I must have a concussion.
"I'm coming back... I'm coming.." I mumble. The doctor gives me a gentle nod, as Samara grabs my other arm. But it's not them I'm talking to.

...

The next thing I know, I'm opening my eyes to the bright light that is shining in from the open blinds. I wince, and blink  a few times before I open them. I feel Samara grab my hand, and she starts to say something in a low tone to me, as she gives my hand another squeeze. I try, but for the life of me, I can't understand what she's saying. All I can hear is a high pitched ringing, spreading all around the room like wildfire. My vision blurs again and everything slows down, like I'm watching my life go by in slow motion.
"... it's gonna be fine," I finally make out. But for some reason, I have no idea what those words mean.