Stay composed, you got this.
That's what I kept telling myself.
—
I feel so guilty, why is that? I did nothing wrong, that bastard did this.
That's what I questioned.
—
What if he thinks it was me?
That's what I asked.
——————————————————————
Maybe this was what was meant to happen. Destiny, if you consider it that.
——————————————————————
I walked through the large doors, leading to a long, disorientating hallway that withheld the rooms that stored various vulnerable bodies. I was told that HE was being stored in room ###, which was on the left at the very end.
I braced myself as I neared the end of the hall, shaky hands and hesitant breaths.
The doctor that guided me here slowly opened the door, gesturing me to come through. I quickly shuffled in to see a man with long white hair, no longer in his signature loose ponytail, looking sickly on a hospital bed. He had a respirator over his mouth, helping him breathe.
There were slashes. Everywhere. From his arms that were draped by his sides over the blanket tucked tightly to his bodily frame, to his face, and to his neck. His neck stood out the most. He had a large gash that still looked quite fresh that was sewn tightly, almost as if it wasn't stitched together, all the things that allowed him to vocally communicate would fall out.
Tears started to well up in your eyes. How did you allow this to happen? After everything that happened in that alleyway, you couldn't even get up from that weak little position you were in to stop the bastard from almost killing your best friend.
You slowly walked closer to the bed, getting just close enough to hesitantly grab his hand with both of your own, and bring it to your chest.
You held it there for about a minute or so, until you noticed. One of HIS fingers started to slowly twitch.
It shocked you, making you lose grip of HIS hand as you jerked your own hands away, quickly regretting your decision as you caught HIS hand before it bounced off of the bed.
Sighing, you grabbed his hand once again, but this time, you put it up to your mouth, with your hands wrapping around HIS own to form a fist. Your warm, jagged breaths were brushing off of HIS hand, making you feel at ease. You closed your eyelids.
Suddenly, he opened HIS eyes.
HIS vision was blurred, but he could still see a figure in front of him. He couldn't feel his hand, but he knew that the figure was holding it.
He attempted to get the figure's attention by widening his eyes over and over, he tried to speak, but his throat hurt even if he tried to breathe in the wrong way.
Just when he started to gain his vision back, that's just what he did.
Though he breathed too hard. He was doing it on purpose though, after seeing the figure in front of him. The respirator over his mouth started to fall off as he gained more feeling in his body.
You opened your eyes, just to find that that his facial features seemed as if he was in a panicked state. You immediately let go of his hand, but not letting it fall down hard, noting his injuries.
Once the respirator was completely of, he tried to speak, only for it to come out in choppy, un-intelligible words. He attempted to whisper instead, being more successful.
"___..." His voice trembled.
"No... Why.. are you h-here?"
He was terrified, he slumped back into the hospital bed, trying to get as far as possible from where you were standing.
"What do you mean, #%^*#%? I came to see you because of the accident.. I just wanted to make sure you weren't in any worse condition after... that day."
He tried to shout, but it came out as a strangled sob, and ended up opening one of the stitches on his throat, causing his hands to shoot up to his neck and press against the pained area.
He began to silently cry, not only due to the pain, but due to the one who supposedly attacked him that night might have came to finish him off.
"Pl-lease.. stay away-.. f-from me.." He silently sobbed as you backed away from the bed, your back hitting the wall behind you.
"Claude... C-Claude?... Where... help..!"
His breath became uneven as he started to cough. Violently. Extremely violently. This alarmed you, and you took notice that he was coughing up blood. It was leaking from the wound on his neck.
He was choking on his own blood.
You ran outside the room, screaming for a doctor. At least five came rushing to you as you told them what happened. As you were explaining, you could still hear the sounds of him choking, it throwing you off guard and it caused you to double over and start spilling contents all over the floor. The doctors rushed into the room, one shutting the door behind them after entering.
That was the last time you saw him.
