We sold our souls to the demon next door

Chapter 4

Hiii everyone! c:

Thanks for all the supportive comments I've been getting!

It means the world to me.

Sorry I haven't updated in a couple months ;p

I've been busy with friends and school...you know how it is 

Buuut....here it is!

Chapter 4!

Enjoy. c:

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RAINA'S POV--

The whole car trip to the hospital was unbearable.

My throat and eyes became so dry that I wasn't able to scream or cry anymore. So I just sat in the car, praying to god that my older brother was going to be okay.

I thought back to what happened at the school. 

Jordan was beaten so badly, he could have been beaten to death. 

I pushed the thought out of my mind. No, Raina. Stop. He's NOT going to die. He probably only has a couple of missing teeth and a broken arm, maybe some other broken bones in his body, but he is not dead.

Although I thought of so many possibilities and injuries that could have happened to Jordan, the thought of him dying kept pushing its way into my mind.

Oh Jordan...you are insanely stupid. Tears started streaming down my cheeks again, showing that I finally was able to cry. The car ride to the hospital seemed never ending. My parents were silent, making things more unbearable. They weren't telling me things would be okay, they weren't telling me that Jordan would be okay, they were just silent. Maybe it was because they knew he wasn't going to be okay..

The car made a sharp turn, snapping me back to the harsh reality. The car parked near the hospital and my parents got out without hesitation. I followed close behind them, for neither of us said anything. We all wanted to see how Jordan was doing and tell him what an idiot he was for starting that fight. 

I flung the door open and rushed inside. My parents pushed behind me. I glanced at them and saw they had the same blank white expression on their faces.

"We need to see Jordan Walton." My mother said to the plump lady at the front desk, her voice cracking. She was trying her hardest not to cry, but I could see the tears just wanting to stream down her face. 

The lady looked at us simpeethitically. 

"Are you family?" She asked us, her voice high and squeaky.

"Yes. We're his parents and this is his sister, Raina." My dad said, his hand gesturing towards me.

"Oh, yes. Go ahead and have a seat in the waiting room while I go fetch the doctor. Make yourself comfortable." She said, smiling sweetly and nodding towards a room.

My mother grabbed my hand and pulled me along towards the small room beside the main office. There was no one in there but us. We sat on a black coated couch that caved in when all three of us plopped down on it.

My father squeezed my hand tight and kissed my head. I cried onto his shoulder. I rarely was ever this emotional in public, but I had a very good reason. My brother was in the hospital, maybe bleeding to death. Unless he already was--

I didn't finish that thought. Jordan wasn't dead.

That's all I could tell myself.

I suddenly thought of Jordan's unconscious body being dragged across the floor..

I pushed that image out of my head. When my family entered the hospital room, Jordan would be there. Awake, and smiling. My father would softly smack his head, cursing for how dumb he was, but then end up hugging him after his sturn lecture. My mother would squeeze him tight and tell him how much she loved him. I would cry on his shoulder and he'd play with my knotted black hair and promise me that he'd never get into a fight like that again.

I smiled at the thought.

I was certain that would happen. Jordan wouldn't die, he never does. He's a survivor. I remembered a time my family and I went on a hike in the Rocky mountains. We were almost to the top, and my mother and father sat down for a rest. Jordan nudged me (us both being ten at the time) and asked if I wanted to go to the very edge of the cliff and watch our spit fall to the rocky bottom. I dumbly agreed and we both raced to the top. Jordan got there first and announced himself king of the world. I got there shortly afterwards and watch Jordan's wad of spit fall downwards until both of us couldn't see it anymore. He coughed up some more spit and as he took a step forward, his unstable foot skidded over a rock and he stumbled off, his hand quickly grabbing the edge so that he dangled off of the edge. I screamed and scrummeged to pull him up, but he did most of the work by pulling his skinny body up. He could have died that day, but he didn't. This was no different.

The doctor entered with a clip board in his hands. He noticed us and his face paled. He smiled gently. 

My parents and I stood up. I crossed my fingers behind my back and closed my eyes. I inhaled a deep breath, not wanting to look at the doctor when he gave us the glorious or dreaded news. 

"I don't want to be the one to tell you this, but Jordan...he didn't make it."