At The Kiss Of Midnight

Original | Chapter Eleven

~Banner's POV~

"She told me that she doesn't want to die," Demi informs from behind me, her tone a hushed whisper, as I brush my sister's blonde hair away from her sleeping face. "She broke down in front of me, Banner, and - god did it hurt. It hurt me seeing her like that. I just wanted to take all of her pain away, even if it meant me having to go through it."

Her words are sincere. She's genuinely emotional about Kelsie's current state, and I hate it. She's becoming attached to Kelsie, which is the last thing that I need right now. I need to be pushing her away so she doesn't get hurt in the end, but doing so is proving to be more difficult than I ever imagined. Almost as difficult as watching Kelsie reject life by starving herself. In both cases, two people are being distanced from me, whether involuntarily or not. Two people that I care about. Two people that I -

"Banner?" I silently thank her for interrupting my stupid, disastrous thought. "Are you ever going to explain what the orange wristband means?"

It means that I'm going to die and you're going to hurt. I thought tossing the wristband in a trashcan outside would stop any further questions of hers. Out of sight, out of mind. Apparently, I thought wrong.

With a clenched jaw, I abandon my sister's bedside and push past Demi to get out of the room. The antiseptic is giving me a pounding headache behind my left eyebrow, or maybe it's the tumor eroding my brain that is causing the intense, sudden pain. Either way, I need air. I need out.

Elevator button. Down to the lobby. Once. Twice. Three times. Ding.

With her hand, she stops the elevator door from closing. How is it possible that we're the only people in the elevator?

"Why are you avoiding my question?" she asks, and I can feel a muscle in my jaw twitch.

"Why do you keep asking when it's obvious that I'm trying to avoid answering? It's just personal, okay?"

She falls silent while I wonder if it's possible for this elevator to move any slower. "I care, Banner."

"I know." The door finally opens with another ding and a slight whoosh of air that brings in remnants of laughter and lively conversation and coffee and shoes squeaking against polished tile. Claustrophobic is how I suddenly feel, suffocating on all those little remnants of life that I will no longer be able to feel or cherish or take for granted. "But you shouldn't."

Outside, the sun is warm on my skin - a welcome relief from the hospital with morgue-like temperatures. Morgue. That's where I'll be stored, isn't it? Or is a morgue just for those who remain unidentified, those who freeze on metal dissecting trays not knowing the reason - that gaping hole in their chest, that sharp pain in their skull, that twisting-rumbling-churning feeling in their stomach - they are there. My death won't be a mystery. I can't tell which is worse.

I sit on the same bench where I found Demi earlier. I place my head in my hands and groan as my headache rhythmically pounds against my palms like a second pulse. I don't know how long I sit there like that; it doesn't feel like long enough. My phone, vibrating, is the only thing that brings me back to reality. I retrieve it from my back pocket and wonder when I even put it there in the first place. I open a text from Demi.

I'm asking a nurse what the orange wristbands mean

No

Seriously

Don't

Where the hell are you

Cursing, I nearly run back into the hospital, hoping that she's in the lobby, talking to one of the nurses at the front desk. She's not. I immediately go for the elevator, hoping that she went back upstairs to Kelsie's floor. The elevator is crowded this time, bony elbows jabbing into ribs and sneaker treads smashing toes and fruity sweet perfume sprayed far too generously and impatient exhales of hot air in dire need of a breath mint or two. I swear that the elevator is even more slower this time around, too.