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He remembered him clearly. The moment he saw him walk through the door, he remembered him. He remembered being told to bring back a bucket of darkness, he remembered being asked to bring half a cup of black, white coffee and milk...in layers, he remembered standing on a table doing the BlueBand advert or singing him lullabies til he fell asleep. This man had made him wake him up by crowing like a cock every morning. He never thought he would see him again. But here he was. However, the man he saw wasn't the boy he remembered. This was a scared man. A man looking for hope. A man waiting for answers. He left him by her bedside when he left in the evening and found him there in the morning. What do you tell a man in such a situation? He hated this parts. They were emotionally draining. Everyday, you told the family the same thing, "There's no change. All we can do is make her as comfortable as possible and wait." He told them to wait while her spirit withered away. He told them to wait while her pale shell grew weaker. He only had hope to give. But what they needed right now was not medical jargon, it was hope. So he gave hope. To the one person he never expected to give it to.
She had been walking in a daze all week. She had been a trauma nurse for the last 5 years. She had seen worse so no one understood why she had been so shaken up by the girl down the hall. She didn't know her personally but she knew her. She knew everything. When she was at home she remembered; when she was at work she remembered. They had been fighting at the club. Her and her boyfriend. They were drunk and pissed off at each other like they always were. Over something useless and inconsequential as always. She had run out without the intention of ever looking back. So she took his car keys and drove off. She hadn't seen the lights heading towards her. She hadn't braked soon enough. She swerved in the wrong direction. The other car tried to avoid her. Tried and failed. It was her fault. But she didn't look back. Not when she saw it start rolling on the rear view mirror, not when she had the haunting crushing sound below. She had more pressing problems. Like pissing her idiot of a boyfriend off. She saw it on the news. She read it the papers. Irony is when you are assigned the girl you almost killed. Irony is when you fix a broken engagement by breaking an engaged girl.
She felt herself coming back. Back to the living. The voices were now clear. She could here discussions of dresses and colours. She had her mother sobbing, her father shouting to voices she didn't know. She listened to her boyfriend read her the newspaper. Then she felt herself finally slip out of it. It felt different though. They couldn't see her but she could see them. They couldn't touch her but she could feel them. She walked out of her room. She could hear beeping behind her. Like machines somewhere were malfunctioning. Doctors and nurses ran past her screaming things she could not understand. Her family was bundled out. Like some unwanted sacks. Her mother was now openly wailing. All she wanted to do was hold her close and tell her it was going to be alright. She wanted to tell her father not to fret too much, that everything was going to be fine;her boyfriend that she loved him; her best friend that she will always be there. She felt a sharp pain pass through her. Like she had just been shocked by 1,000 volts of electricity. It happened once, five minutes, twice,, five minutes, thrice..........then it went silent. No beeps, no weeping, no screaming and running. Just silence. She didn't even say goodbye.