Living With the Enemy: Adrian Johnson (A Brothers Best Friend)

Living With the Enemy: Adrian Johnson (A Brothers Best Friend) Chapter Four

Bianca:

I lay there praying he was on his way. It's been 46 minutes and I was borderline losing control. I spotted my the bathroom door open, and the taunting razor sitting on the edge of the bath tub. I looked at it, more like gawked at it. As if it was bringing me life, when really it was killing me. 

I felt my face go rigid, I knew he needed to be on his way. 

I pulled my phone out from under the covers, and dialed his number. 

ring. 

ring.

ring. 

ring. 

"Hey, it's Jesse, hit me up another time, B and I are having some fun,"

"Hey! No! Don't listen to him! Just leave your message at the damn beep!"

I sighed.  Voicemail. I called again, and got the same thing. I felt the tears clouding in my vision. I was weak. I couldn't handle it. 

I was a second away from doing the unbearable when my phone rang. 

"Hello Jesse?" 

"Hi, is this Bianca Sebastian?" 

"Yes. Why?" 

"We have a Jesse Stanley in our intensive care unit, and you're in his emergency contacts." My heart cracked, and died. I swore I heard it breaking. 

"Ms. Sebastian? Are you there?"

"Yea, yes, I'm here. I'm on my way,''

"That's not such a good," I hung up and grabbed my jacket forgetting my problem for once.

Jesse was hurt. Jesse my best friend, my brother, the only person who got me. My Jesse Bear was in the ICU.

I felt the tears welling up as I ran across the street. I made my way to the highway, and snuck through out the traffic, making my way to the large bill board with the hospital's logo on it. I followed the trail running to the drive way, avoiding more cars, and into the sliding doors.

"How can I help you?"

"Jesse Stanley, I need to see him?''

"Are you family?"

"Yes, I am also his emergency contact, now if you could just let me fucking see him!" I shouted. I knew people were looking, but the frightened nurse finally gave me useful information, and told me his room number.

I ran to the room. 113.

I opened the door and the sight nearly killed me alone. There lay Jesse Stanley, the best person I'd ever know, laying in the bed, unconscious, not even breathing on his own, wrapped in wires bandages and needles.  

"Jesse, you have to wake up now okay? We have to get you better! Do you hear me Jesse? Will you wake your ass up?" I was shouting again, and in the chair bawling, probably looking like a complete fool. 

My phone rang and I ignored it, it rang again, I continued to ignore it. It rang one last time, I picked it up, and then hung up the next second, maybe who ever it was would take it as a hint, that I didn't want to talk. 

I just sat there, completely broken, and hurt. I cried for hours, the nurses sent me sympathetic smiles. I didn't want sympathy, I wanted them to save my best friend! They needed to save him, and make him perfect and lovely and cuddlable again. I missed him, I needed him! 

8 PM came around sooner rather than later, and I was asked to leave. 

"Please, you have to let me stay here with him. he's all I have in this world, I need to be with him." 

After much begging and pleading she finally gave in. I guess she knew that I wasn't a beggar or a pleader. 

I could see the Nurses come in once every few hours on the dot to check his vitals. 

It was 8 PM the next night that they kicked me out. I was begging and pleading, and er, threatening, them to let me stay. They didn't let me. So here I am, walking to his apartment at 9 PM in a pair of shorts and a long t shirt, sandals in hand. 

I didn't care if I was to be hit by a car, or if I was raped and murdered, I didn't care if anyone ever found me, because all I could think about was Jesse being hurt. They refused to tell me what happened, since I wasn't 'exactly' family. 

I made my way to that 7-eleven and looked at it in disgust. I felt like vomit was making its way up just thinking about a slurpee. A magical thing that Jesse and I shared. 

I crossed that street, ignoring the swearing and horns of the cars beeping, I just trudged across the street looking down. I didn't care that it was ongoing traffic, that was now moving, I didn't care if they didn't stop. I felt like maybe death would relieve me of this pain, this ache, I wanted to die. I wanted to end my life, I didn't want to be apart of this one anymore. I finally made it onto the sidewalk with a sigh. It didn't happen.

I went straight to his front door and ran into his room. I pulled on the last shirt he wore. The one with our faces, I smiled and then broke down and cried on his bed, clad in a t shirt and underwear, wrapping his scent all around me, it engulfed me and I willingly let it, soaking the pillow case and probably giving it make up stains. 

I continued to cry until I fell asleep. 

Banging. Banging. Banging. 

Swearing, jingling. 

Who was here? That's the first thought I had when I woke up at, 3 am to hear loud noise coming from the front room. I sighed but staid where I was. Let them kill me. 

I closed my eyes, and let the tears fall again. Jesse was hurting, just picturing that faithless image of him in the ICU brought streams into my eyes. 

I was bawling at this point, when I felt someone's hand on my hand. I opened my eyes to look at him. I didn't know why he was here, or that I should hate him, instead I cried into him. I bawled like the weak person I was.