The Past Keeps Following Me

eight days

It has been eight days since Ross died, and it seemed only fitting to play Eight Days on repeat that morning. I decided at 3am that Ross wouldn't want me to sit around moping about him, so I treated this morning like any other one. Just, without Ross.
After having a filling meal of pancakes and whipped cream, I decided to pay Craig a visit. This time, I wouldn't be a trembling, emotional wreck. It's time I started picking up the pieces of my broken life and putting it all back together, excluding Ross. Without him, there'll forever be a hole that can never be filled.
I had been given a temporary car by my insurance company until I received my damage money from my car, but it had just been sat in the car park for a week, and the car keys remained on the key rack.
As I slid into the smooth leather seat, all of the fear I had about driving again dispersed and I filled my lungs with air, plunging the key into the ignition. I drove with caution, as I did when I first learnt how to drive.
"Baby steps," I muttered to myself, pulling onto the main road, (the pothole was filled in now, making it easier to drive directly to the hospital).
I pulled into the hospital car park and paid for parking, the sun gleaming off the dozens of car bonnets as I casually strolled towards reception with my head held high. This time, I didn't even bother speaking to the receptionist. I just flashed a small smile and signed my name with a flick of the pen.
I sprinted up the depressing stairway 3 steps at a time, and marched proudly along the Accident Ward. Only, this soon came to an end when I tried to open the door to Room 15, the handle wouldn't budge. Locked. I tried to peer through the small pane of glass and banged on the door.
"I think," a voice started behind me, catching me off guard and making me jump. Dr Houslay stood smiling sympathetically with his arms folded. "that you'll find him in reception. He's being discharged at this very moment." He winked and began to walk back down the corridor and I blushed furiously. He turned his head and gestured me to follow, and I ducked my head. Why was I blushing so much? I held my hand up to my cheek and stumbled after him.
Just like he said, Craig was propped up in a wheelchair with Barry, Bonnie and - who I could only assume to be - Barry's uncle, who resembled Barry amazingly.
Barry spotted me first, and waved like a little kid, until Craig pulled on his jacket, scowling at the floor. Barry brushed his hand away and strolled over to me and the doctor, leaving Barry's uncle to sign discharge papers at the desk.
"Sam!" he chirped. Someone was definitely happy. "What are you doing here? Well, I mean it's obvious what you're doing here but like, why?"
I shrugged, shoving my hands into my pockets and scuffing the floor with the end of my shoe. Where had all of my confidence gone?
Surprisingly, Jamie Houslay placed his hand on my shoulder, and it burned through my shirt. He rubbed his thumb and I'm pretty sure my heart stopped for that full ten seconds. Not that I was counting.
"I wanted to resolve my...issues with Craig," I tried not to mumble but I still felt the warmth of Dr Houslay's hand imprinted on my shoulder.
Barry nodded, and led my over to the others by my hand. Dr Houslay must have left at some point because, when I turned, he was no longer there.
"What are you doing here again?" Craig practically spat as I sat down in a chair next to his wheelchair.
"I wanted to apol-" I began, but someone's coat brushed the back of my head. Irritated, I turned to look, but heard a faint, "Ah, sorry."
I froze. I knew that voice.
Not again. I can't do this again.
I stood up, barging past Bonnie and out of the glass doors. I think at this point, the receptionist had just accepted that I wasn't ever going to sign out.
•*•*•*•
That evening, I spent most of the night sitting on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands. Am I going insane? Maybe the guilt is really eating me up. Or, I mean, maybe Ross wasn't really dead..?
I shook that thought out of my head. Stupid, stupid thought.
Just then, my cell phone rang on my bedside table, moving towards the edge as it vibrated. It fell from the table, and I caught it just before it hit the floor. I must've accidentally answered as I grabbed it because the ringing stopped abruptly.
"Hello?" I breathed into the speaker. Silence, again.
"Who is this?" I demanded. "What do you want?"
"Why didn't you turn around, Sam?" he said. A chill ran down my spine. This isn't real, I tried to convince myself. But it was, it really was, just as real as it was when I saw him go into that alley.
"Ross?" I choked out, tears filling my eyes.
"Aye, you know it is, Sam," he chucked.
"Ross, you're dead. How?" My voice trembled when I spoke, almost as much as my hands.
"Am I?" I could almost hear his eyebrow raise. That's what he always did when he was cockey.
"No," I said, pulling the phone away from my ear. I clicked the red button below Ross' name and cradled my legs, rocking back and forth on my bed and staring at the picture frame. What's happening to me?..