An Open Sky

Chapter Fifty-Five ~Alexa~

His soft voice filled the room. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t watch him. I just listened to the haunting lyrics, illuminated by his sadistic voice as he travelled through each word. I felt his muscles flex under my fingers as he took each breath. I knew he was in pain.

                Nevertheless, he sung the lyrics with an alarmingly steady voice: The reality of me and you, the world had never knew / They took you, they captured me, one to never become two / Flowers whither and trees are struck down, but my love for you will never bow / I won’t give up on us, I will find you soon, just trust…

                My hand became damp with his blood. I hadn’t realized my fingers had drifted to the towel. I leaned over to grab another from the floor. I glanced up at him. His face was pale, he was sweating. I watched his chest rise and fall, slower than before. I couldn’t lose him, not now.

                “Aidan,” I rested my hand on his dampened face; his eyes opened, “you need help.”

                He shook his head. “Don’t.” He held me tighter to him. My eyes closed, becoming harder to open with every second. I rested my head on his chest. His heartbeat drowned into the background.

                I gave in.

                No. No no no no no. Not like this. He couldn’t go. He couldn’t leave me. I straddled him, holding his cool face between my hands.

                “Please,” I begged, “Please, oh God please not him.” His chest no longer pumped up and down, his eyes didn’t open when I called his name. My heart was in my throat. My stomach turned. I peeled back the covers. My stomach lurched.

                Blood, it was everywhere. It was still draining from his body. It was more watery this time. I laid two more towels onto the wound.

                “Aidan, please, stop messing around.” My tears choked out my words. I pressed on his chest. “Please not you,” I choked.

                My phone.

                I ran over to his bag. My fingers searched desperately through the bag, through the sheets, along the ground. The cool plastic collided with my fingers. I hit the ‘Lock’ button. Nothing. I hit it again, and again, and again. Still nothing. The battery died.

                “God, no!” I cried, throwing the phone onto the floor. I ran back over to him. “I’m getting help, you idiot, this is all your fault!” I grabbed his hand, my tears flowing onto his fingers, “God please make him okay.” My prayer was done. I ran out of the room, slipping his car keys into my pocket in case the police needed them.

                I ran down the hallways to the receptionist’s desk. “Please! God, please! I need help!”

                The same woman looked up at me with a blank expression. “What, did he break up with you?” She said flatly.

                “No, please, he’s dying, please,” I sobbed, leaning over the counter, grabbing the phone.

                She snatched it from my hand. My eyes shot to her. “Are you serious?” She asked.

                I nodded, “Please, you’ve got to help him.”

                “What happened?” She inquired, dialing the phone.