The Way She Is

Chapter 12 ~ Can't Promise That Things Wont Be Broken

Chapter 12 ~ Can't Promise That Things Wont Be Broken

PJ's P.O.V

The small waiting room Chris and I had been placed in slowly filled with tearful relatives as the evening progressed into the early hours of the morning. Children, wives, husbands, parents and siblings all cried into their hands or silently sat misty eyed, lost in their hopeless thoughts. It was awful, and as I glanced around at their solemn faces, I realised that I probably looked the same, with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. 

Far worse however, than the sound of crying or the smell of disinfectant constantly attacking my nasal passage, was the waiting. But not just any part of the waiting, a very specific part of it ... The not knowing. 

It was torture! How did any of the doctors expect us to just sit and wait and be completely patient while our friend, relative or whomever was behind closed doors being injected with god-knows-what? It was unnatural. 

I was brought back to earth by the door bursting open and a very dishevelled Daniel standing there, face wet with tears. Chris stood up immediately and embraced him, allowing Dan to sob quietly into his shoulder. 

"I'm s-so sorry! I di-dn't think he'd ... I c-can't believe ..." Listening to Dan choking out that he was sorry somehow made me feel even more hostility toward him. Come on Pj, he's your friend and just as upset as you are! 

As true as that was though, I couldn't supress the feeling that it was because of him and their stupid tiff that Phil was here in the first place. 

Eventually, after much comfort from Chris, Dan pulled away and his bloodshot eyes landed on me and my hostile, glazed expression. 

"Pj ... I don't ... I didn't ..." He staggered, a fresh wave of tears beginning to surface. I let my eyes drift from his face and over him.

He was a mess. Quite simply. His hair was scruffed up and damp, most probably because he'd run from the apartment and the heavens had opened not long ago. His clothes, which I noticed were also damp, were crinkled and unmatched, as though he'd just thrown them on in a blind panic. Back up to his face, where his brown eyes pleaded with me for forgiveness and comfort, for loyalty and a safe house ... For the friendship I'd long since promised him.

I couldn't turn him away, not at a time like this.

Pushing my hostility to the back of my mind, I stood and embrace him with all the care I could muster, which it turns out was more than I'd expected. 

A grand total of 36 hours later, most of the room had emptied and refilled six times over. Each time a nurse entered through the door, everyone's faces lit up, hoping against hope that she or he was there to tell them good news of their loved one.

Finally, the moment we'd been waiting for arrived and we were asked politely by a rotund and unbelivably short nurse to exit the room and follow her. Her stony expression had me concerned, and as I glanced over my shoulder at Chris and Dan who were following behind me, I realised that of course, I wasn't the only one who's heart was racing a mile a minute. 

"Gentleman, I am to understand that you are all close friends with Philip?" She said briskly, after leading us into a different room, pointing us to a small three-seater sofa and then closing the door. We nodded mutely, attempting to hold back the tears that would most likely spill should the news we were inevitably going to be given turn out badly. "Good. You two were the ones who found him, correct?" Her tone was short and sharp as she addressed Chris and myself. Again, we simply nodded. Detecting our silence, she raised an eyebrow and crossed the tiny room so that she was no longer standing in front of the closed door, but in front of us instead. "Listen boys, your friend is in a critical state, and unless you pull yourselves together and be strong for him, then truthfully, he's not going to stand much of a chance when he leaves our care." My head snapped up and I stared at her. Leave their care? Was he stable? Could he come home?