The End

Chapter 23

Chapter 23-

I stared at the cracked ceiling, the paint had chipped, making the paint fall from the ceiling in little snowflakes or dandruff. I shifted uncomfortably in the bed that now seemed too big, without Zachary. My heart contricted in pain like it always did when I couldn't breath or when I was upset. Tears stung my eyes and I swallowed the lump in my throat that had now reached epic proportions. I couldn't sleep. Whatever I did. I just couldn't. Las Vegas suddenly seemed so lonely and desolate. I hate this place. I hate earth. I hate living. I clutched my chest as my heart ached in that familiar way that I'd never get used to. I was prepared for it, yes. But it was something I would never get used to. Everytime it hurt more than the last as realization hit me everytime. It hurt like hell to lose someone you love. I would rather prefer chopping my own leg off than feeling this way. This pain will never go away. I doubt it ever will. My old wounds are still fresh so adding more is just tiring me out. Wearing me out like old gym socks that's stinky and has holes in them. I feel old and broken. I hate this feeling. I pressed my eyes closed as tears escaped them. No no! Why me? I don't want to cry like this. Why does this always happen to me? Specifically. Is it because of what I did in the past? Disobeying and hurting? Killing? I don't know.

I want to give up and just kill myself. I wish I could. I wish I had the strength.

        I got out of bed, giving up on my attempts to sleep. I picked up the packet where his clothes was held. Inside the plastic bag was a note from Leo I presumed.

Zachary,
Watch out for bullets. I know this is silly but you're a sniper so you'll stay out of any specific shooting range, so please watch out. Especially for a 9mm caliber..
-Leo Russo

I cried even harder now. He didn't read the letter! He would have been alive if he did.

I threw the letter on the floor, avoiding it like the plague. I climbed into bed and drowned myself in the duvet covers.

My last thoughts were Zachary.

*

I woke up feeling terrible. I was sore in my abdomen, ribs... almost everywhere. I took a hot shower to remove the layer of imaginery filth on my skin. I thought of my last shower with Zachary. When we had sex, I feel my core ache at the thought of him inside me. My thoughts are interrupted when a loud knock intrudes the silence.

"We're leaving soon," Beckham's deep voice boome through the door.

"Okay!" I yell through the door and get out.

I wear a random jeans I had packed in and a warm fleese sweater with my combat boots. I braided my hair as usual, leaving stray curls to fall gracefully on each side of my head.

I packed the last of my things and Zachary's. I planned on dumping it out on our way.

"Let's go."  I trudge to the front door and lugged my bag behind me.

*

The drive from Las Vegas was shorter than the drive to Las Vegas. The wind blew softly outside. Whistling.

We threw away Zachary's things about a mile ago. It was a bit hard for me; his things were like a part of him and we were just throwing it away like that.

    Irma was still in some pain; Beckham said he would take her to the hospital as soon as we got home. So our first trip was the hospital for Irma, oh and me.

Beckham dropped us off and promised to come back. I hope he came early, I hated hospitals.

After a few tests they said I fractured my true ribs caused by blunt force trauma. And that I could have been worse since a year ago I was pummeled in the ribs by Trick.

Hospitals reminded me of death and loss; two things I was all too familiar with. I cringed everytime I woke up in this place. The smell if detergent and medicine swarmed around me, thick in the air. I think I was the only one so bothered by it. Since I shared a hospital room with Irma and she didn't seem that bothered by it. 

My third day I actually got visitors other than Laura and Beckham. It was someone I least expected to see. Carson. Only this time he looked different. He had sleeve tattoos up his arms, they peeked ever so slightly at the ends of his long sleeve T-shirt.

He sat at an unoccupied seat near my small bed and smiled at me, crossing his big arms across his chest before adjusting his glasses.

"Carson, hey, you look... different," I smile approvingly. He looked good with them.

"So do you," he said gesturing to the little tubes in my noes supplying enough oxygen to my lungs.

"Yeah... when did you get them?"  I ask taking the topic off me.

"A few weeks ago. The day after I first met you. I always wanted them. It just took me a while." He shrugged.

"You look nice," I say.

"Thanks. And look your hair isn't in that adorable braid!" he grinned leaning forward to brush a loose strand out of my eyes. My hair was now loose and everywhere. There was a reason why I braided it; so that it doesn't get in the way.

I flinched at the slight contact his cool fingers made against me own pale skin.

"Sorry," he quickly apologized.

"No, it's okay," I mumble.

"Um. Have you seen Zachary? I tried calling but he hasn't been answering and since he doesn't have any family I couldn't call anyone else. So when I went to that diner where you work, I thought I'd see him there, you know? But he wasn't there. Then I asked that blonde girl -- "

"Laura," I correct him.

"-- yeah, Laura. And she said you were here and..." suddenly Carson went blank and looked at me with wide brown eyes.

"Carson, are you -- "

"He's dead, isn't he?" Carson asked softly. "He didn't make it?"

"He told you about the plan?"

"Of course he did! We were best friends!"

I started tearing up. "I'm sorry, Carson..."

"No, I'm sorry..." he says softly and sits next to me and hugged me. "You're not alone, okay? I'm here."

I nodded against his hard chest.

You're not alone...

I wasn't alone. I smiled.

I had Laura, Irma, Beckham and most importantly, I had a piece of Zachary, Carson Harris.