c o n t e s t e n t r i e s

Silent and Listening

"Hello, Aiden," Grant greeted, wobbling into the room. His ashy hair was gradually beginning to lace itself in gray strips. His light, denim blue eyes that had once danced with happiness, transformed tragically; they now swayed slowly with sorrow. His facial hair was unshaven and his skin had converted into an unnatural pasty shade. He looked about as lifeless as I was.

I recently began contemplating reasons upon his daily sojournings to visit a living corpse. My mother quit visiting me months ago. My greatest assumption was that she had given up on my long restoration back to my physical body; however, she was not prepared to pull the plug quite yet. I didn't understand why she had not decided to pull the plug. I wish she would come her senses soon and release me intangible prison between the living and non-living, especially if visiting me wasn't on  her to-do list.

I distantly remember her short visits. She spent her time humming lullabies to herself, praying near my bedside, and knitting in the corner.  Before acknowledging the current situation she was in, she would hold my hand and read a book to me. She kept doing this for two months after the accident until she realized I wasn't going to return anytime soon, which resorted her to short visits and activities before dropping me completely.

Grant sniffed. "I'm sorry, Aiden," he whispered, fidgeting in his seat.

Grant was a childhood friend, whom I lost connection with after high school began. Funny how everyone returns when you're basically dead.

"It should've been me," Grant mumbled.

It should not have been anyone, to be quite honest. No one deserves to be hit by a car, and no one deserves to suffer this inescapable trap.

"I've noticed your mother doesn't visit you anymore," he paused, furrowing his eyebrows, "which is kind of saddening. I think that's the only reason why I keep gravitating towards you." He scooched towards me closely, reaching out for my hand and grasping it. "I just didn't want you to be alone, wherever you are." He nodded to himself, lowering his head onto the bed.

I heard my monitor echo throughout the room, slowing it's pace. I felt myself begin to fade away as doctors rushed in, checking my vitals.

Grant lifted his head. "Don't go," he whispered, tears beginning to stream down his face. The doctors shooed him into a corner as he broke into a million different pieces, shouting my name and bothering the doctors.  I never wanted to see him this way.

However, I was set free.