doctor, doctor. || rydellington

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sixth part.
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FIVE WEEKS. FIVE weeks of driving past the hospital, but never actually visiting her. The last three weeks were the worst. I had written her a letter, but she never responded. Why would she? She didn't need me.

Idiot.

After five weeks, my curiosity and desire for the girl became unbearable, and I got in my car.

The car that I had almost killed Rydel with.

I ran my hands over the leather wheel, and took a deep breath before I turned the key and started to drive. It was a sad day; the sky as grey as ashes and the raindrops softly hitting the windows and roof of my car.

I parked my car and walked inside the hospital.

As soon as I stepped through the white doors, I knew something was off. The strange hospital smell seemed to have doubled itself, now almost taking over all my senses. I spotted the angry nurse; she was crying. Why was she crying?

I walked to the elevator and got in. I went up to the first floor, and counted down the rooms until I reached Rydel's.

121.

123.

125.

127.

I slowed down as I reached the room before Rydel's. Everyone was there. Her whole family. They all stared at me. Her brother, the one that I had met first, didn't seem as aggressive as before. He looked at me with a mix of anger and sadness.

Her other brother – I think his name was Rocky – was hugging a woman, probably their mum.

I walked past them and peeked through the window of Rydel's room.

She wasn't there.

No.

I started to shake, my entire body just couldn't keep still. I turned back to her family.

"Where is she?" I asked, not even embarrassed for my shaky voice.

I only got sad looks and a few sobs in response.

No.

I ran back down the hallway. If her family wasn't going to talk, I would ask the angry nurse. I wanted to know what happened. I needed to know where Rydel was. She walked to me as soon as she saw me.

"Where is she?" I exclaimed, my fists clenched. "Where is Rydel?"

"I'm so sorry," the nurse said, her makeup slightly running down her cheeks as tears rolled down her face.

"Where is she?"

"Sir, calm down. She's-"

I was going to explode. Calm down? How could she.

"No, where is she?"

"Ellington," a voice spoke behind me. I turned around, and saw one of Rydel's brothers. He seemed young, the same blonde hair and brown eyes as his sister. Only his eyes were slightly red from crying.

"She wrote this for you," he said, handing me an envelope. It had my name on it, in the prettiest handwriting I had ever seen. But I wasn't in the mood for reading a response to something I had written three weeks earlier.

I grabbed the letter, put it in my pocket and ran past him, leaving him alone with the nurse. I ran back to room 129, ignoring all the 'don't run' signs.

I stormed into the room, not caring about Rydel's family trying to hold me back.

I stood at the foot end of her bed. The sheets were messy, as if she had gotten up to pee and would come back any minute. But she wasn't going to come back.

Her laptop and phone were on a table next to her bed, along with medicines. A lot of them. But she would never take them again.

The wall that her bed was standing against, was covered in get well soon postcards and drawings. But she wouldn't get well anymore.

I looked down and saw the folder that doctors use to keep information about their patients in. I gulped, and picked it up. I ran a finger over the cursive, typical doctor's handwriting on the front.

Rydel Lynch.

With shaky hands, I opened it. My heart seemed to stop as I read through everything.

Cause of me, she had broken her leg on three different places, a concussion, and two broken ribs. It was worse than I had thought. A week after my last visit, she became terribly ill as well. All those things, plus the weak heart that she apparently always had had... She had no chance.

I didn't have to read what the red ink on the bottom of the page said. I knew it already. I didn't want to read it. I didn't want to know what I had done to her. But you know how it goes with things you have learned — you do it anyway. You can't pretend like you can't ride a bike. You can't pretend like you don't know how to dance. You can't pretend like you don't know how to read. If you see letters, you read them.

Passed away.

The sound of the raindrops falling onto the hospital window stopped, and so did my heart. I felt an empty feeling spread through my body, starting in my chest. She was gone.

"She talked a lot about you," someone said. I realised my eyes had filled with tears, and I dried my cheeks with the sleeve of my sweater. I turned to whoever had spoken up, and saw that it was her brother. I had forgotten his name, but it was the one that always had seemed so aggressive towards me.

"She wrote you a letter," he said. I suddenly felt the envelope in my pocket, heavily pressing against my thigh. I gulped, the tears coming again.

"The funeral is next Saturday," her brother said, and with that, he left me alone.

As the door fell shut, the empty feeling filled the room and my body once again. I felt numb. The silence made it even worse.

I sat down in a chair next to Rydel's bed and opened the envelope.

I inhaled sharply as I saw my name again, in Rydel's gorgeous handwriting. I could almost hear her voice call my name. A voice I would never hear again.

I sighed, my breaths shaky and tears running down my face. My brain felt heavy, as if someone was trying to press it out of my head. My chest hurt. Every slow heart beat vibrated through my entire body, and I noticed my hands shaking uncontrollably as I held the paper.

Then, I started to read.

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a/n: *drinks cup of tea with satan*

did I make anyone cry, besides myself?

chapter dedicated to john green. the end of tfios is a thing with speeches, and it inspired me for this story.

(: