Forsaken Us [7 Days!]

The Living Dead

"Hello, Kirell."

My heart was in my throat. Philio? Here? I almost wished I never gave him my address—almost.

I showed him to the lone chairs and table in a corner of the cluttered room. I sat in one and Philio in the other. We stayed silent for a while, with my fists tightly clenched and his gaze fixated to the clock.

"Is that Hilde?", he asked, his words startling me. I just stared at him. There's no way he could've seen a picture of Hilde. Here, especially. I've burnt them all, I'm sure of it.

I turned to look for what he saw, and there it was. A small poster we made one day, with a small portrait of us hastily pasted onto the bottom of the page. There was something else written on it too—ah. I remember this. Hilde had written "I learnt how to love myself by loving you". I laughed for a whole week after that. She written it down in permanent marker too, so that I wouldn't "attempt to scratch it off" or whatever.

These memories, they were good. Still, I wished that they never came back, they should've been forgotten by now but they aren't.

I couldn't stop looking at the poster. There was something else bothering me—the large tear in the middle of it. It showed all the signs of an attempt to shred it to pieces. I wanted to shred it to pieces but failed. I couldn't do it, it was the last of what I had of her, the last memory we shared together.

"Spit it out already," I hissed at Philio, impatient. He didn't say anything but that doesn't matter, his actions had spoken for him. He pointed at the portrait of Hilde and I. Suddenly eager to listen, I asked the very question I was avoiding this whole time.

"It's about Hilde, isn't it?"

He paused for a while. Like his mind was still trying to process something he'd found out.

"Yes. She's finally woken up from her 4 year long coma," he said. Then he smiled—again.

I stood up and headed towards the door but Philio reached out for my arm before I could. I tried jerking free, but eventually gave up. I looked up to meet his eyes, giving him a sharp glance.

"Take me to her," I said so loudly it almost sounded like a yell.

"I suggest you don't pay her a visit just yet—she still needs time to fully recover," he said but I wasn't taking any of it. I could be there for her during her recovery. There's no reason not to.

I placed my other hand into my pocket and fiddled the rough metal with my fingertips. Swiftly, I took it out and pointed it towards Philio, threatening to pull the trigger. It was the pocket pistol Argo gave to me after I turned 18.

Philio however, doesn't seem to be startled or taken aback in the slightest. In fact, that smug smile I so desperately wanted to wipe off was still on his face.

"I'm going," I said firmly. His grip on me loosened just enough for my arm to be set free. I took my chance and treaded the pathway towards the hospital Hilde was at.

"I know it wasn't loaded," Philio called out, running after me. I stayed silent. Am I that easy to read?

Philio stopped to catch his breath midway when I realised he was trying to talk again. Beneath all the heavy breathing, he said, "She doesn't remember."

That caught my attention for a little while but I didn't stop. What does Hilde not remember? A rush of anxiety crossed over me when I saw the towering building that now stood in front of me. The hospital. I never realised how nervous I was to meet her until now. But I had to, it was the least I could do.

The automated glass doors welcomed me. I looked through them and sure enough, Philio was just a few meters away. I quickly went through the corridors to the reception table.

"Name?", the receptionist asked, lazily lifting an ink pen, ready to write. They were certainly an interesting sight, I thought. Hair bedraggled with crooked teeth and the smell of anti-septic filling up the whole room. The only thing decent about them was their spotless, white cloak with a single name tag. "Susan," was what it said.

"Kirell. I'm here to see Hilde," I answered. I watched as the ink slowly swirls onto the page, forming words. "Ah, the coma girl. Relation?", Susan asked, eyes filled with disinterest meeting mine. I cleared my throat, "We're *cough* friends."

"Third floor, Room 7," she said, handing me a visitation slip. I took it and set off to the elevators when I heard footsteps trodding behind me. But instead of focusing on that, I thought about what I've said to Susan earlier. Are we friends? Friends don't let each other get killed, in fact, that's the opposite of a friend.

I got into the elevator and clicked the buttons on the control panel, mind going blank. I didn't want to think of what would happen when we meet again. I leaned against the elevator wall with my eyes closed.

"I should've known you'd be this stubborn," someone said. I recognised that voice anywhere, it was definitely Philio. I bit my tongue, refraining the urge to answer. "She doesn't remember," he said again. My eyes were still shut. I didn't want to think of anything for the time being.