Starry Eyed

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Three

The room was pitch-black. I felt like I was chained down to something, handcuffs bolting my arms to my sides, something buckling my legs to whatever was beneath me. I was lying down, stiff and unable to budge. My breathing hitched, felt forced and awkward, like something was burning in my throat and my lungs couldn't manage to figure it out.

I wriggled around, trying to break free, but nothing snapped or clicked or sounded anywhere near hopeful. I was starting to panic. Why was it all so dark? Was I in a prison or something? I hadn't done anything wrong, had I? 

Blood exploded across the darkness, bursting like juice from a squeezed berry. I screamed before I could stop myself, thrashing and throwing myself around, howling for some sort of escape. Guns started firing in my ears. I heard them pounding all around me, ricocheting off the walls, echoing and vibrating right though my body. My screams were no match for the thunderous volume of the gunshots.

And then the darkness was split open by James' eyes, wide open and alert, yet somehow still so utterly dead. I remembered. And I knew why I was here. They thought I had done something very, very bad. I screamed out, as loud as I could, and then there was a hand grabbing mine and light poured into the room.

It wasn't particularly bright, but I winced at the sudden explosion of colour. As I adjusted to the room, I noticed the faded blue wallpaper rather than the pitch-black grime and muck of jail I'd seen. A monitor beeped at the side of the room. I was not in prison; this was a hospital.

"Luca," the voice beside me choked, and I blinked at the person, their fuzzy hair and blurred face. Star.

"I'm not in jail," was all I managed to get out, before she threw her arms around me, crying into my shoulder. (This was an excellent effort considering I was pinned to the bed- now I could see it was all wires, attachments, tubes, hospital things.)

She laughed through her sobs, almost hysterical. "It feels like yesterday I was fighting with you in a hospital bed," she said, and I flashed back to fires and smoke and charred, blackened bodies on the stairs. More corpses in a mind composed of death and endless graves.

"It was me," I told her, suddenly crying. She pulled away and stared.

"What?"

"I killed him. I must have. He's dead!" 

She covered her face with her hands, washing away all the misery that lay there. "You didn't kill him, Luca," she said in devestation. "He did it to himself."

 I tried to sit up, yanking on the tubes and wires hooked up to me. "Why am I in here then? Get me out. Star, tell them to let me out!"

"I can't control them," she said. "Calm down. You'll be out in a couple of days."

"Why am I here?" I asked again, alarmed. A couple of days sounded like far too long; after all, hadn't she just told me I was innocent? And I felt fine. 

 "They had to check you. In case you were hurt. They found you unconscious too, you know. Thought you and James were both dead." Another fresh tear glistened in her eye. "I thought I'd lost you both."

I bit my lip, imagining Star hearing her two best friends were both possibly dead in their dormitories in the middle of the night. She didn't deserve that. 

"I never knew he was... you know," she mumbled. "Suicidal."

"He wasn't." 

My mind seemed to be coming back to me, piece by piece, like a lost jigsaw puzzle. James had said he hated life that night, right? And he was certainly pissed. He'd locked himself in that bathroom in the dark for a reason. What had I been thinking? I was standing right there, listening to him lose every last shred of himself he had in that bathroom, and I'd gone to bed and pretended it wasn't happening at all. Had I not had any idea what was really going on? Or had I seen all the warning signs, and pretended I couldn't see?