Impulse

The Pain

The day I’m supposed to leave the hospital, no one comes to visit me except for Michael, who never seems to even leave. “Going home today.” He says, stirring his coffee.

“Finally. I honestly don’t know how much longer I can take being here. I feel like an invalid.”

“To be fair you can’t do much.”  I scowl at him and he throws a wicked grin my way. “Will you let me come see you once you’re out of here?” he asks not really looking at me this time.

“Not if you’re going to be calling me an invalid.” I tease.

“I won’t.” He says meeting my eyes.

“Pinky promise?” I ask holding out my pinky. He gives it a curious look then wraps his pinky around mine, we shake.

“You are the only person over the age of five I’ve ever made a pinky promise to.” He says shaking his head.

“Glad to be a first.” I say grinning. He goes to say something but a knock at my door cuts him off. Both of my parents mosey in then, their smiles that of Cheshire cats.

“Emery!” my mother exclaims as if surprised to see me here.

“And Michael. Here as usual.” My father notes sizing up Loach.

“Mr. and Mrs. Emerson.” Michael greets then heads for the door. A feeling of sadness floods through me as I see him walking away. At the last minute he stops and turns me to. “See you later alligator.” He says with a wink.

“In a while crocodile.” And then he’s gone.

My parents don’t miss a beat. “So you ready to go home now kiddo?” my dad asks. I nod and they help me out of bed and out the hospital.

“We already filled out all of your paperwork so you didn’t have to wait around.” My mother informs me as we exit and head to their red Land-rover.

Our drive homes mostly consists of my mother and father telling me about their day at work, the rest of the time the radio eats up the silence. When we arrive it’s to an empty drive way. I half expected to see my car sitting next to Erik’s. Erik waiting in the doorway with towering sandwiches and glasses of strawberry kiwi juice. Our main source of nutrition. When I don’t, tears gather in my eyes. I squint and push them back.

“I have a surprise for you in the garage.” My father says gesturing to it.

I shake my head “Tired.” I mouth and head inside.

I don’t stop to look at anything, I just head straight for my brothers room and throw myself onto his bed. His sheets smell like him, like axes hair gel and snow. I take in large gulps of air trying desperately to cling to him in some way. I let the tears flow like a river then. I let out body quaking sobs and let the pain and sorrow consume me from inside out. I let the agony of loss and anger of abandonment explode in a show of water. It’s the first time since I landed myself in the hospital that I allowed myself to cry for my brother. Everyone else seemed to be over the fact that such a beautiful soul no longer roamed the earth and I couldn’t understand why.

I also cried for the fact that I had been so close to joining him. I wanted so much to be with him again but I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to leave everything else. That that made me a horrible person didn’t it? Because I didn’t want to die to be with my twin once more. I cried for the physical pain I felt too, all of this aching was driving me mad. My sobs hurt my ribs and my nose stuffed up so I couldn’t breathe, my head began to pound and my bones throbbed from abuse. I let the pain engulf me then. I let it wrap its cold spiteful hands around my body and squeeze. I let it devour my heart and scorch my soul.

And just like that I was gone. 

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