How To Kill Ryder Blake (COMPLETED)

{Twenty-One} How Do I Say Goodbye

I had convinced myself mid-shower that Ryder would have passed by the time I got to the hospital. It was early, just after ten, and Ryan nor Mom had mentioned anything, so I'd tried my best to rid the thought from my mind.

Stepping into the waiting room, my heart sunk when I caught sight of Ryan asleep across two chairs, neck bent in an incredibly uncomfortable position and his crossed arms twitching every few seconds over his chest. Crossing the room to him, I draped the small blanket I'd stuffed into my duffel bag over him and gently brushed his hair from his eyes. Luckily his sleep deprivation had finally caught up with him and he didn't budge at the gentle gesture.

Seeing him like this made me feel things I didn't know I was capable of feeling. My chest physically hurt seeing the way his eyes were sunken into his cheeks, the chapped lips that had been bitten raw with anxiety. I wanted to hold him and take all the pain and absorb it so he wouldn't have to feel it. He had already been through this once and unfortunately was the last to see his mother alive before she'd flatlined.

I'd disliked Ryan Blake for years, had always been infuriated with how much he and his irritating little brother got off on making me angry or upset. But somehow, over the last couple months, he'd managed to wormed his way under my skin and to my heart in a way nobody else had ever managed to do.

"Zo," I recognized my mother's voice and straightened slightly, feeling warmth spread through my cheeks. A small part of me had wondered if she'd read my mind and knew what I'd just admitted to myself a few seconds ago. When I finally turned to look at her, fully dressed in her purple scrubs, I saw the concern lining every inch of her expression, "I think you should come talk to him. Let Ryan get some sleep."

I opened my mouth to protest, but quickly shut it.

It didn't matter if I wasn't ready to do this, to see Ryder. If Mom was only giving him forty-eight hours, there was a good chance this would be the only time I had with him. I nodded slowly after a moment and allowed her to lead me down a long, disinfectant smelling hallway. A few of her coworkers nodded in greeting at me. Mom finally stopped and turned to face me after what seemed like hours of walking.

"He won't be able to talk. His lungs. . . the tube is the only thing keeping him breathing right now." Mom explained, and though she tried to keep her best professional face on as she spoke, I could see the cracks in it, the tears that welled in her eyes, the way her bottom lip trembled at the thought of watching the life slip from Ryder at any given second.

"Okay." I breathed.

She gently opened the door and walked in, speaking to Ryder directly despite him barely being visible under the tubes and wires. "Hey, Ryder! Zoey finally came to see you."

He didn't budge. The frail, lifeless lump he was under the ugly hospital blanket didn't move at all.

I curled my hand into a fist and squeezed my eyes shut before I nodded toward my mother as an indication I was ready for her to step out for a few minutes.

Once the door had slowly clicked shut behind her, I took in the table beside Ryder's hospital bed. There was a balloon with a bear holding a Get Well Soon heart, and an envelope with Cade's name scribbled across the top corner of it. He'd already been here at some point over the last twenty-four hours. He'd been here before me.

Though it shouldn't have mattered, I felt a pang of guilt in my chest. I should have just come last night, even after Ryan had insisted I didn't. I should have been able to see him when he was still coherent and aware. The boy before me was exactly what Ryder had feared he'd become-a shell of a boy with none of him left.