March 15th, 2012
There isn't any color. I complain about it all the time, but Zachary always ignores me since he doesn't have to see it himself. But everythings so white it hurt my eyes. It drives me crazy. I've never seen a building lack so much color before in my life. The organization is so neat and clean that its spotless. Everything has an assigned spot, and there isn't anything out of place ever. I hate the hospital. This place reminds me of a lab from a horror movie. I want to leave, but Zachary won't let me. Cancers gotten worse and he wants me to at least try treatment. If not for myself then for him. Stupid little brother still guilty tripping me to this day.
But I don't have much hope, Doc told me from the beginning that its terminal. I know I don't have a chance, but I agreed for Zac’s sake and have moved into the hospital for the long haul. We've started meeting with a doctor thats been willing to take my case. She's small and petite and different in a weird way.
So today, the first day Zac has left my bedside and gone home to get a little work done, after all he has to finish his third book by the end of the year, I made a simple request of one of the nurses. Some pen and paper. Zacs always talking about how writing takes him away, helpes him forget... Maybe I can do this too. So for now on I’ll be writing a novel of my own, just below each journal entry.
Upon opening his eyes he was blinded. Bright lights bore down on him, rolling over he pulled the bed covers up over his head, just to find that the sheets were damp. Which he chose to ignore in favor of a few more minutes of sleep.
‘Zac, turn off the lights for God’s sake’
‘...’
‘Zac, did you hear me bud?’
‘...’
‘Buddy are you okay?’ He said, sitting up. He expected his younger brother to be standing in the doorway, clutching a teddy bear that was almost as big as him to his chest. Tears would be in his eyes from the most recent bad dream and his hair would be matted from another night of fitful sleep. Jeremy knew the drill by now. The five year old would explain the dream again. The head lights. The crash. Shattering of glass. The sudden lack of space as the car crunched in on itself. The metal tearing away like paper before Zac’s face met the concrete. Jeremy didn’t need to hear it again to know what was going on. He remembered it well enough on his own. He’d been talking on the phone with his younger brother Zac when the wreck happened.
Zac and their father had gone to a baseball game for his birthday, just the two of them. They’d gone to see one of Zac’s favorite teams play and decided to spend a week in the city as well. The pair was on their way home when Jeremy called them.
It was the last time he ever heard his father’s voice.
Jeremy was talking to Zac about how the game was, if he liked the city, what they wanted to do together when they got home, when the worst sound he had ever heard tore through the speakers. It was a sickening crunch, his family’s screams, shattering glass, and the tearing of metal. He was screaming as well, screaming for someone to answer him, screaming for someone to tell him what was going on, begging for someone to tell him they were okay.
They weren’t.
His father died on impact, his little brother was blinded by the incident. The blow he received to the head damaged the nerves connecting his eyes to his brain, rendering Zachary blind. Jeremy drove to the hospital closest to them immediately, never letting go of the phone, never hanging up in hopes that one of them would pick it up and speak to him -- tell him they were okay. He tried to call his mother on the way, but like usual there was no answer.
