Letters under the Door

Chapter 20: The Hospital

Andrew Garfield as Dr. Samuel 'Sam' Fletcher
########

Logans POV:

Three hours ago, I was sitting awake in bed, thinking about what I was going to do for April today. We were meant to be going to the arcade. I was going to beat her twice in air hockey and then let her win the third time, (not that she wouldn't have beaten me on her own, but that was plan A). After, we were going to the sushi train for lunch, because I remembered her mentioning once how much she loved Japanese food. Then I was going to do the one thing I swore I'd never do, but promised her that I would.

I was going to talk to her.

I was going to tell her I loved her.

At least one of those things happened.

Three hours ago, everything was looking up. Now All I could do was look down at the girl I loved bleeding in my arms.

Her head was smeared in red which ran into her copper hair, and I pressed my hand over it to try and stop the bleeding until someone handed me a cloth. She felt like a doll in my arms, limp and lifeless, but all I could do was keep talking to her, hoping that even though the sound of my voice was unfamiliar to her, it would be enough to bring her back to me.

I blamed myself. Not just because I was there at that moment and it was the thing to do, but because I had seen it coming. I had seen it coming down the street before it rounded the corner and I did nothing. I was too scared to talk. And now, the very thing I was afraid would happen if I spoke had happened because I hadn't.

It was official. I hated cars.

The driver was a middle aged woman with a teenage son, about my age in the car. She was now in tears and he was staring at my limp girl friend in shock. I wasn't really paying attention to the conversation around me, but from what I had over heard, they'd been having an argument, and she hadn't noticed how fast she was going.

Across from me, the jogger whose phone April had picked up was sitting on the curb, watching me and her with watery eyes. He wasn't very old, maybe in his early thirties. He probably blamed himself, just like that lady and her son probably blamed themselves, and part of me blamed them too.

And I felt so guilty about that, mainly because I knew that April wouldn't blame them, or me.

I could hear the siren coming, growing louder and louder. I looked back down at April's pale face, and tried to remember what it was like just five minutes ago, right before she started crossing the road. She was smiling. Smiling at me. It was so hard to remember that now.

"Hold on April," I said. "Help's coming. Just stay with me a little longer."

The ambulance pulled up right beside me and people leapt out. They bombarded me and the person who had called them, a mother who had been in the park with her kids, with questions that, looking back now, I don't even remember. In fact, most of it was a blur, but I remember them taking her away from me as they put her on a gurney and rolled her into the ambulance, the two paramedics talking to each other in a language I barely understood, though vaguely recognised as English.

If anything, their use of big words scared me more.

"Kid?" I looked to my left to the man I assumed to be the driver. I had been so lost in thought I hadn't even seen him come up to me. "You her boyfriend?"

I nodded wordlessly, an action that I found to be second nature.

He nodded and handed me April's bag. It had specks of her blood on it.