Tell Your Friends [Martin Garrix]

Chapter 8 | ✓

This chapter contains triggering content, please read at your own risk.

"Aline?"

"Aline!"

"Aline, please come back. Het spijt me. Please."

I slowly open my eyes, the bright light shining right into them. Cold water drops are dripping from my hair onto the floor. It's like I was swimming - water is everywhere. Shivers travel up my spine, making me shake harder and harder. 

Where am I?

Green eyes, familiar. Slowly, the blurriness starts to fade away. I see him, kneeling just over me. His hand. He is holding my hand and I feel the warmth pass onto mine, making the shivers gradually disappear. 

"Martin?" I ask, hearing his worried whisper.

"Godzijdank!" exclaims Martin in Dutch. "I thought, I had to call the ambulance."

"No, I am fine."

What happened? Why am I on the floor?

I get up, using my elbows and hoard myself onto the bed. My head feels like it's going to blow up, as I  watch Martin sit on the other end with me. Everything seams surreal, just like it's a dream and this is not happening in real life. 

Marcus is dead.

Dead.

Dead because of me.

Tears start streaming down my face and I bury my head into my knees. I feel warm hands, lightly touching my shoulder. Putting my head up, I see Martin. I let him hug me, burying my head into his chest and smelling the musky smell of his cologne and cinnamon.

His warmth slowly passes on to my body, comforting me, making me feel better. It's Martin. He is here with me, helping me, even though I don't deserve it. I don't deserve anything that has happened in the past few days.

"He is dead," I stutter quietly, choking on the tears. "He died because of me."

"It wasn't because of you," Martin whispers softly, running his fingers through my tangled and damp hair.

"It's my fault!" I try shouting, but tears make my voice sound cringey and croaky. I cough, trying to swallow the lump of tears.

"You never wanted anybody to die," Martin repeats, whispering it into my ear like a mantra, wanting me to believe it.

I don't.

"He died because of me," I spurt out, wiping the tears from my cheek with my palm.

"It wasn't you because of you."

I shut my eyes violently, trying to remember him. The way he used to be. His dead body, pale face and blue lips, barely opening to say the last word.

He didn't die like that. He was asleep.

Him trying to get his last breath, fighting for it, but never getting it. Coughing and choking, while keeping his eyes closed. His pulse stopping and him just dying. Leaving this place forever.

Forever.

There is no Marcus. He is gone, gone forever. He will be forgotten after his funeral, just like all of the average people. I press into Martin's chest even harder, seeking for protection, an escape. Somewhere, where all of this won't matter and won't get dissolved in my head, just like sugar in tea. 

I pull away, brushing my tears away, looking into the calm deepness of Martin's eyes. They are reflecting his mood, just like the ocean reflects the sky. Sometimes he is calm, calm like the ocean on a sunny day. The others, his eyes are raging, just like the sea on a windy day. Raging, like the monster inside me.