Everything's Alright

Mark (End 1)

Sitting in the chair, nothing is going through my mind. I should have been there to help him. Had Jack intentionally done that? Was Jack attempting suicide? I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I try to not consider that. I know he did. I haven't really been all there since I started the EP. That and YouTube just drained me. I remember the first song I wrote. It's called "Jack". You can guess who it's about. I start to hum the tune. It was always my favorite. I planned to sing it at VidCon. I don't know if Jack will be there to hear it. I use the steady beep of the heart monitor to keep beat. I look up and study Jack. His face is ashen and his mouth hangs slightly open. His eyes are closed. His hair is disheveled and the visible left side of his body has multiple bruises. I see a hint of his cast. I remember the day he got hit. It's been 5 days. All our fans know what happened, and they understand why we're not uploading. I made a small vlog on it, taking caution to not show Jack. He'd never forgive me if I showed him in the hospital. The fans even started trending the hashtag "feelwelljack", which was sweet. He's been showing increasing signs of brain activity in the last few days, which is promising. I hear a sound and feel my heart skip a beat. I go over to Jack. He moans again.
"Oh my god," I whisper. I feel tears start to well up in my eyes. He talked. He showed some sign of being alive. I haven't left this room in 5 days. Maybe he'll get better, finally?
-
Day 6. 6 days. I go over the facts in my head. I have been in this hospital for 6 days. I have eaten every meal here. I have slept on a cot alongside Jack. Yesterday, he showed signs of brain activity. The doctors thought he would make it through. The doctors were fucking wrong. I was sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. The heart monitor slowly started to beep faster and faster. Nurses and doctors came to the room. They asked me to go outside in panicked voices. I could hear the monitor from directly outside the door. I heard Jack's heart stop 4 times. I heard Jack's heart not start again. I heard my husband die. Now, as I'm sitting here filling out details on Jack, I'm sobbing. I can't help it. I feel a hand on my back start to cry harder. I suck in air roughly and break down. I go into the cool night air and scream. My throat hurts. Soon, I have to go home. It's hell. I see Schrödinger's water bowl and kick it, getting water all over the tiled floor of our kitchen. I know I said I accept death, but the pain I feel is so raw. I accept my own death. Nobody else's. I get on the couch, knowing I can't face the bedroom. Not now. I cry myself to sleep, knowing Jack can't be there to tell me it'll be okay. Fuck. This.