Nightmares

Chapter One

I kept my head down as I anxiously sat in the hospital, staring at the white tiled floor of the waiting room. The chair I sat in was nicely cushioned, but to me, it felt like stone. How long had I been here? I stole a glance at the clock, just quick enough to see the time-7:30am. I had arrived at almost 3:00 this morning and had been sitting here for four and a half hours. Sitting on this cold, hard chair in this cold, hard waiting room. There was no one else around. I thought back to what had happened, reliving the terrible moments of before.

'I awoke with a start in Phil's bed. I remember falling asleep next to him while watching a movie, but now the television was turned off, and something was wrong. Phil was gasping beside me, coughing and wheezing, almost unable to breathe at all.

"Dan," he said faintly between coughs, "...help."

Hearing this, I snapped back to my senses and stumbled out of bed, reaching for my phone. I dialed 999 as fast as my shaking fingers would allow and waited with the phone to my ear. The phone rang once, twice. Every second was another wasted while Phil lay in his bed, his breathing becoming more desperate. After what seemed like an eternity, someone answered. It was a woman.

"Hello, this is 999, what is your emergency?"

I wasted no time in answering. "My name is Dan Howell and my friend cannot breathe. H-he's gasping and shaking and-" I choked out as I looked quickly at Phil who was turning worse. "-I don't know what's wrong with him but he needs medical help right now," I added. I hurriedly spit out my address. My throat felt tight and I was holding back tears.

In absolutely no time at all, an ambulance arrived and 3 men in white clothing, two of them carrying a stretcher, ran into our apartment. I directed them to Phil's room. I tried to stay out of their way, but I also wanted to make sure Phil was alright. I decided to stand by the doorway, wiping my sweaty palms on my pajama pants.

"SCA!" shouted one of the men. I wasn't sure what it meant, but it frightened me.

"Quick," said another man, "Get him onto the stretcher." I heard a '1, 2, 3,' and seconds later two of the men were carrying the stretcher, with Phil on it, out of our flat. The third man walked over to me.

"Come on," he told me, already walking out the door. "You're coming with us, too." Once we were inside the ambulance, he pulled out a notepad. I noticed Phil was now laying very still.

"You okay, son?" he asked me. I nodded my head slowly. "Alright then, I'll have to ask you a few questions."

"How do you know this man?" he asked, jabbing his pen in Phil's direction. It took me a few seconds to form words.

"He's my flatmate," I answered. Several other questions followed, including emergency contacts, a full list of symptoms, and a recount of the whole event. By the time he was done asking, my cheeks were damp with silent tears. I hoped he didn't notice.

We shortly arrived at the hospital. The man and I stepped to the back corner to stay out of the way as the other men opened the doors. They pulled the stretcher out with lightning speed and in no time were out of sight. The man looked at me. "Do you mind sitting in the waiting room for a while?"

"I don't mind," I replied.'