-YOUR POV-
“Go! Go! She’s losing her pulse!” The doctor’s voices were blurry and fading as they rushed my bed down the hospital hallway, my vision going fuzzy as I stared up at the white lights above me.
The sound of my light, strained breathing filled my ears as my heart sputtered its last beats. My eyelids began to sink.
“Stay with us, keep your eyes open!” One of the nurses running next to me said. “Just don’t close your eyes!”
‘I won’t.’ I wanted to say, but I couldn’t make my mouth work, I couldn’t make my lips move. All I could do was lay as I felt the warmth of my own blood pouring out from all over my body. I couldn’t think. I could only focus my remaining energy on breathing.
Suddenly, the bed skidded to a halt as we barged through the door of a room to be stopped by I didn’t know who or what.
“There’s an operation scheduled for the last room open.” I barely made out another doctor say.
“Reschedule it!” The nurse who’d been talking to me said, then I was transferred onto another bed, needles being stabbed into me from all over. Life support, I thought.
‘I’m not letting go.’ I told myself. ‘I have a future.’ But I had the IV in, the monitor beeping. It wouldn’t be too bad to just close my eyes...
“No! Stay with us!” The nurse said to me in a desperate attempt to keep me awake.
Too late.
-END POV-
-KENDALL’S POV-
“Last show of the tour!” James exclaimed, walking onto my tour bus, Carlos following shortly after him.
“Ready to celebrate?” Carlos asked, holding up a bottle of wine.
Logan and I looked up from our phones. “We probably shouldn’t drink before the show...” I said.
Carlos shrugged and set the bottle on the table. “We’ll celebrate after, then. The tour isn’t COMPLETELY over, anyways.”
“When do we have to be out for soundcheck?” Logan asked.
James checked his phone. “Like, three hours. What did you guys want to do before then?”
I yawned. “Sleep.”
Carlos and Logan laughed. James looked kind of annoyed, though, and just rolled his eyes.
“What’s up with you, bro?” Logan asked him, pushing his side from the seat he was in.
“Our management thinks its necessary to get to venues THREE hours early when we could just be staying at the hotel and sleeping in. Or if you’re Logan, spending your time fixing your hair for an extra three hours.” James complained, smiling a little bit at his last remark.
“Guys, we might need to cancel this show.” Our manager, Sam, said, barging into the bus.
Without hesitation, all four of us whipped our heads in his direction and yelled, “WHAT?!”
