What If I Can't Forget You?

{22}

Alex's POV

Kill me. I can't live without him. Kill me now, God, just let me die.

We all ride silently in the van, speeding after the ambulance. Vic cried quietly in the passenger seat, and Claire and I leaned into Tony. He had his arms around us both, and we buried our faces in his grey sweatshirt.

We pulled into the ambulance lane behind the hospital. Mike didn't even bother to park- he pulled in behind the ambulance and jumped out of the car, yanking out the keys and running up to the cloud of paramedics near the hospital doors.

We raced out of the van after him. Mike screamed at the paramedics that held him back forcefully.

"LET ME THROUGH- THAT'S MY FRIEND THERE. THAT'S MY BOY-" They shoved him back, and now it was Vic's turn to control his brother.

Everything was in slow motion. Mike, struggling to escape his older brother. The EMT's, rushing for the stretcher. Wheeling him by- the boy who I may or may not have loved, the boy who may or may not be dead.

Hospital security was suddenly there, blocking us from him. They ushered us to the empty ER waiting room. Mike paced the floors, looking like he wanted to punch a wall. Claire held Vic, who buried his head in her chest, his shoulders shaking. I wore Tony's hoodie now, unaware of when I received it. I lay my head on his shoulder, too scared to cry, too exhausted to scream.

We waited like this for hours. 3 am, 4 am, 5 am. Somewhere in this timeline, I drifted off on Tony.

Please, please let this be a dream, I thought. I had woken, but had not opened my eyes yet. When I gathered the courage to open my eyes, I was in the same half-empty room, with the same half-empty people. They slept now, leaning on each other or arm rests.

I didn't know what time it was, but it was as dark as ever outside the smudged windows of the ER. I was too nervous to go back to sleep, so I decided to get up.

I walked to the bathroom down the hall, and caught my reflection in the mirror as I entered. I looked older, and like I had been through hell in the last few hours. And honestly, it was true.

I wiped tear-streaked black makeup off my cheeks. I was a bitch. A total, raging, idiotic bitch that cared nothing for anyone but herself. This is all my fault. I sat there, hunched over the sink in the blue light. Exhausted, devastated, nervous.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small orange bottle on the side of another sink. I picked it up. The paper label was smudged, but I could still make out the lettering.

The label was addressed to a Claudia Knox. Below that, it read Acetaminophen. Tylenol.

My mom always used to warn me- never, ever take too many Tylenol. The household pain drug was deadly if too much was ingested. Liver failure, stopped arteries. That kind of fun stuff. Overdose, and you die.

I wondered if anyone would care if I took just a few too many. If I crawled into that last stall and lay there on the floor. If I slowly fell asleep for the last time there on the ground. Oh God, I wanted to.

I realized that I was grasping the bottle much too hard now. My knuckles were white and what was left of my nails dug into my skin. I looked into my own eyes in the mirror. I was broken. If he is dead, I decided, then I will be too.

Just then, the bathroom door opened. I jumped, slipping the bottle into the pocket of Tony's jacket. Claire entered, looking not much better than I did.

She looked at me, pursed her lips, then smiled.

"Alex- He's- he's alive."