sike

The not so ending end

Rufus felt a crushing weight on his chest as he was dragged up from the blackened pit he was laying in. A rush of screeching bleeps ran through his ears, blocking out the distant murmurs of chatter.

His eyelids were challenged with a blinding white room, rapidly trying to blink away the burn of it.

"Rufus? Rufus can you hear me? How are you feeling?" A sweet voice was heard from beside him, followed by a sting in his arm, he gave himself a minute before fully opening his eyes and taking in the blank box. From first glance it looked like a hospital room, bleak white walls and plain grey chairs. His head throbbed violently and his neck felt tight on his shoulders.

The voice came from a middle aged woman, who seemed to be checking his heart beat and fixing the IV that he was currently on. She met his eyes and gave him a warm smile.

"We thought we lost you there for a minute, how are you feeling?"

He blinked at her, confused and overwhelmed by everything, the last thing he remembered was a harsh shove to his side, and a ring in his ears as he was thrown to the road.

The road.

What time was it?

His mind stumbled to keep up with his thoughts, his head racing, Death-Cast called him, he was supposed to die.

Mateo.

Mateo did die.

Why was he here? Is this the afterlife? Why in a hospital?

The heart monitor beside him starting beeping loudly again, his eyes fixed on his bruised hands, everything felt heavy now. His skin felt hot, his lips felt dry from the heavy breaths he was giving out.

The woman gently put his head down on the pillow and told him to breathe slowly, on a pillow that he shouldn't be laying on. Breaths that weren't his to take. Breaths he should of gave to Mateo.

Why the fuck was he here?

Surely if he died he wouldn't be placed in a hospital? Was this hell? Being in the place where he last let go of him?

He shouldn't of let him go.

He sat up again, brushing the woman's hand off of his shoulder. Death-Cast didn't matter right now, he needed to find Mateo's body. He never got to say goodbye.

He didn't care if he wasn't thinking straight. Memories of their kiss. The stove. The overwhelming stench of smoke that somehow still lingered on him. The red and irritated burns that littered his tanned skin. Reminding him of what he lost that night.

He needed Mateo.

He swung his legs over the bed, they felt loose and numb, the woman stood and watched him, not wanting to freak him anymore.

"Mateo?" His voice came out in a raspy croak, he coughed and swallowed, trying again. "I need Mateo."

Her eyes looked confused, she looked around the room and then back at him.

"Mateo who?"

He felt rage at this. He's dead and she doesn't even know who he fucking is. He died in this hospital and she didn't fucking care.

"Dead bodies. Where are the fucking dead bodies?" His heart hurt being so straightforward with his words, the boy he had grown to love within a day was dead. His veins felt cold and his eyes stung with the threat to cry.

"I'm afraid that part of the hospital isn't available to the patients, is everything okay?"

His breath was shaky as he tried to calm down, the cold surge in his veins suddenly felt like rage.