Time To Go

Three: Kennedy

I feel myself walking away before I can even stop myself.

Imprinted beneath my shut lids as I sigh calmly is the vision of his placid face staring at me somewhat vacantly, yet unwillingly showing me his fear. I feel my hands shaking as I push open the door of the hospital exit and feel the comfort of the harsh Arizona wind wrap around me.

I shake my head violently. To passers-by it would appear to be simply removing the stray pieces of my dark fringe from my eyes, but I know better than that. It's to try and disperse of the sight of his hollow hazel eyes, observing me somewhat enviously, his skin a translucent pale as he watched me, struggling to even swallow the lump in his throat.

I cross the street absent mindedly, ignoring the oncoming traffic which beeps in annoyance at my shameless, thoughtless trek. I hear nothing. I simply shove my hands into my pockets to refrain from hitting the nearest wall with the hardest impact I can muster. That would be a release and a half, my mind torments as I pass a wall, grudgingly letting my eyes fall across the unmovable bumpy surface. I clench my fist tighter in my pocket and walk on, my thoughts overcoming my urge quickly.

I had gone to visit her again. I went to ask her the same tedious questions just to get the same tedious reply. How was your day, sister dearest? To which she would reply, The same as always, my wonderful brother, you just carry on visiting me as though it's the most normal of activities in the world, and keep asking me relatively pointless questions, despite the fact that you know the answer to each one beforehand.

My thoughts mock me sarcastically as I breathe out sharply, storming my way past people on the High Street. Ignoring if I bumped into someone, failing to apologize if I shoulder-barge someone. Failing to acknowledge if in fact it was I who got pushed into.

What are you staring at?

His words burn into my mind with consideration as I bite down on my lip to suppress letting out a scream of discontentment. Oh how forlorn the stranger was, how weak and merciless. How fearful and anxious he must feel for the inevitable.

I feel my legs begin to shake and almost immediately, I find myself stopping at the nearest bench on the road and resting myself. Nausea is rife within me and I lean forwards, compressing myself tighter, my knees on my chest as I tap my feet on the ground, my teeth chattering despite the sun on my back.

I had been to hospitals numerous times in my life.

Broken leg at age six - I was playing Football on an icy concrete surface; skidded straight into a wooden fence. My leg went straight through and into a tree behind it. Broken nose at age thirteen - it was due to a fight at school; a boy named Jimmy Carson childishly called my Mother a 'whore'. I childishly punched him, and it quickly escalated... childishly.

I sit back, sighing deeply as I let my eyes wonder around the scenery before me.

People smiling, laughing, sitting in café windows and sipping glorious contents from the china cups in their healthy hands, and people buying make-up in shop windows, adding to their healthy rosy cheeks.

What are you staring at?

I sigh a little louder, gathering the attention of an old lady next to me who furrows her brow in infuriation at my constant fidgeting... I don't care.

In all my life that I had spent in a hospital, I had never witnessed, nor cared to witness, a dying human being. It was something I knew was happening, yet chose to ignore. Ignorance is, was and has always been bliss... yet for the first time in my life, curiosity must have gotten the better of me as I wandered down the corridors of the hospital, searching somewhat desperately for the exit.

I was just leaving my sister. I had visited her for yet another tedious hour and of course, then there was the 'little talk' with her doctor; Dr Thompson. He's a nice man. Full of medical bullshit, perhaps not one hundred percent sure of anything that falls out of his mouth himself. Yet I still find myself nodding, and umm-ing and ah-ing in all the necessary places, despite the fact neither of us has a clue about what is wrong with her.

That lasted another hour.

Telling me about her medication; a certain amount of grams of something with a ridiculously long name. Regardless, it meant nothing to me. He was telling me about her eating habits. She has begun to eat three grapes for breakfast and is even starting to eat mashed potato at lunch times. I think no more of her as I did the very first time she was admitted to the ward... Big deal. I ate a Big Mac and a packet of Doritos on my way there that morning, yet I still had to smile and nod and say how proud I was of her. Bullshit once more. I can truthfully admit that I have never been proud of anyone in my life, and I have a feeling that I never will.

So that was when I left, and was confronted by the most terrifying sight I had ever seen; helpless and abandoned... beautiful and insignificant... shameless and exhausted... two sunken hazel eyes watching me back with little to no integrity behind his gaze. Perhaps used to the odd stare as he touched his lank hair tentatively.

I lean forward on the bench and before I know it, I have pushed myself up again, taking steady steps down the hill that I know will lead to my house in no time. I feel as though my house is haunted. With the forgotten presence of my brother, who left shortly after Annie was admitted into hospital, it lingers with the stench of alcohol from my Mother, who is rarely home due to perhaps disappointment of her children.

My life is pathetic... a shamble... a ridiculous excuse of a life.

A jolt of what can only be described as guilt overcomes me tremendously as a vision of his lifelessly alive body flashes before my eyes, threateningly. It's then that I realize something. As I stop dead in the middle of the road, my eyes staring down hill as I see oncoming cars driving towards me, confused expressions on the drivers faces as I simply watch them.

It's then that I realize, when another flash of his eyes comes into my mind, that I am alive... I am alive and I have been for twenty-seven years. I am alive... I'm just not breathing.