Time To Go

Twenty-Five: Kennedy

I whistle brightly to myself as I skip into the hospital. I spin around as I enter the reception area, tossing a gift wrapped bouquet of flowers from one hand to the other as I smirk at the pretty receptionist. If it was a few months ago, then I would have batted my thick eyelashes and gone around the whole obstacle course of small talk until I would eventually end up fucking her silly in the store room.

I smile to myself as I pass her desk without a second glance.

No... I am no ones but John's.

I turn off down the familiar corridor that leads to his room, and I simply can't remove the large smile that stretches across my face with every step I take. I feel as though I'm on air, floating through the corridor, ignoring the bustling patients, passing to get to the canteen or the doctors zooming by with a destination in their mind.

I am flying through clouds as I smell the aroma of the roses in my hand as I bite my lip and giggle at the thought of John and me, and our cliché love... and how neither of us thought it was possible.

I pause just before I get to his room and I can see a slither of sunlight peering out from his slightly open door, and I'm surprised that I can't even smell him yet. I look into the glass cabinet casing a memo board beside his room and toy with my unruly hair. Softening down the strands that stick up stylishly against my will.

I sigh, grinning; John will only mess them up regardless. I love his fingers through my hair. I sigh again, smiling at the man I have become in my reflection before turning on my heels and pushing open his door.

"Just when you thought I couldn't get anymore clich-" I begin.

So suddenly, my throat tightens and the words pan out into an inaudible silence and I find myself staring at the empty bed before me. I furrow my brow, my arms suddenly heavy as they drop to my sides as I begin to tremble all over. My bottom lip protrudes as my eyes fall onto the folded down blankets and the lack of pillows. Leaving the bed bare... stripped... naked...

"John?" I whisper, my voice croaking and unlike that of my usual tone.

My voice scares me; it's rigid and pained, it makes the bubble around me slowly begin to crack.

"John, you can come out now..." I whisper, my voice hardly escaping my dry lips.

My hands slacken and my hearing has muffled from the sound of the roses hitting the floor. My eyes flicker shut as I waver around slightly, black and white spots bursting into my vision as I suddenly feel my body numbing. I shake my head and the view of the bed slides back into focus and it remains empty. My breath is faltering, breaking free from my body in painful excruciating gasps and I hold the burning pain soaring from the left side of my chest as I clutch the end of the bed for the support that I so desperately crave.

"John." I call louder.

My body is still trembling as I let my fingers run across the coarse material of the bed linen and I grunt angrily. It's so hard and coarse, nothing like the way it felt when John was lying between them. He's just gone to the canteen or to collect his pills and they've just changed his sheets.