Always and Forever

Chapter 4

Mark didn't feel like leaving the hospital. Instead, he decided to sit patiently in the waiting room. Just sit there; waiting, hoping. Wishing, in fact, maybe even praying that Jules would be OK. That the surgery would work. 

He pushed open a door in front of him which led to a peculiar-looking set of stairs. When an average person saw that they would just turn back and walk the other way. But then again, normal people don't have wives with 16 hours. Sniffing back in the snot which always accompanies heavy crying he clambered up the stairs. 'Suppose there is nothing at the top, I'll just jump off the balcony and fall to my death. And if there is something there, I'll explore it. Win-win situation' Mark thought to himself.

As he was climbing the stairs his legs stop supporting him and he fell slap-bang onto the stairs. His head clanged hard against the metal step causing a gush of intense pain to flow throughout his whole body. Mark's vision began to blur and the world began to spin around him. He dragged himself up the rest of the stairs. Blood trickling down his forehead, he opened another rusty door at the top of the stairs and a cold swish of wind met him. Slightly relieving the pain. Slightly making him forget. 

He clawed his way through the doorway onto what seemed to be the Hospital's balcony. Somehow, managing to find power in himself, he pushed himself back onto his feet. He embraced the cold air that was blowing in his face. TIckling his eyes, whispering in his ear. "It's going to be OK."

The rocky and yet even floor was damp. Tears that were once upon Mark's face had vanished due to the harsh wind. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a piece of paper blowing about in the wind. It blew right up to his leg and it's damp texture stuck firm to Mark's trousers. Bending over to pick it up, an idea sparked in his mind. He fumbled around in his coat pocket and drew out a thin black fountain pen. He placed the moist sheet of paper upon the balcony edge and pressed the pen to his paper. Once he had began, there was no stopping him. It was a sort of . . . calming method?

Dear diary,

My day so far has, well, sucked. They say an apple a day keeps the doctor away. But that doesn't exactly make sense, does it?  It's just another lie they tell kids to get them to eat vegetables in my opinion. I mean, just think about it. If I had eaten an apple when I got home last night would that suddenly mean I didn't have to come in to hospital today. 

But anyways. That's not the point is it? I'm sighing right now. Because if anyone reads this they're going to think I'm a two year old. Don't believe me. Go and read from the start. I'm talking to you diary don't ignore me. I'm being serious. Do it. DO IT. You have to. Stop procastinating and just do it. Chances are you didn't do it did you? Stupid diary.

Okay, okay. Maybe I am a tincy wincy bit crazy. Speaking out orders to a soggy wet piece of paper. Or maybe, you're actually alive. Guess I'll never know will I?

This little inside joke with Mark and, well, a drenched piece of paper actually lightened his mood. It was strange, and a tiny bit insane, but Mark was actually talking to a page. He'd lost his mind due to his pure love for Jules . . . 

Welp, the papers beginning to smudge which means no one is ever going read this and I can speak freely. I'm smiling right now. But everything inside of me wants me to jump right off of this balcony onto the busy road rushing by below me. What's stopping me? Jules.

My love for Jules can not be matched by anyone or anything. If I could, I would swap places with her this very second. I'm telling you I would do anything, GIVE anything,  KILL anyone. If it meant she could stay alive. 

But you know what hurts me the most. Eats me away from the inside. You want to know? You want to know what kills me slowly like the devil whispering in my ear. Teasing me. Torturing me. It's that fact that no matter how hard I try, nor how much I do. Jules' inevitable death can't be stopped. It's out of my reach. Whether it happens in sixteen hours or in 2 months. It's going to happen. And there' s absolutely NOTHING. Nothing, that I can do about it.

So to conclude, dear diary. I wish I was dying instead of Jules. 

So that was it, Mark ripped up the paper and let the wind carry it elegantly down to the street below him him. It was still about 6 AM, and Mark needed sleep. So even though he wasn't comfortable, he passed out withing seconds.