Don't take my memories~Drier

Chapter Twenty Two-The List Of People Dead And Gone

Drew's body remained limp and fragile on the hospital bed, and no matter how much I willed the life to rush back into him and jolt him awake, it simply wouldn't. The only sign that he was alive came from his heart monitor, which was emitting a large thud every second or so, keeping in time with Drew's weak and controlled pulse. The noise frustrated me no end against the dreary silence of the room, and the only thing that stopped me from pulling the plug out of the wall outlet was the fact that Drew's life would be forfeit for my actions, and I couldn't have that.

It had been two days since the small blood boy had been admitted to the small room, but in all honesty, it felt like weeks had passed by since that heart shattering moment, just from the amount of time I had been sat restlessly on the uncomfortable chair beside his bed, drinking in every aspect of Drew's flawless appearance greedily, just in case that would be my last chance to ever get the image of him in my head, or smile lightly at his adorable nature. He was garbed clumsily in the dreary hospital attire, a disgusting coloured gown and a number of tubes snaking out his veins, yet he still managed to pull it off and look gorgeous, despite the circumstances. His skin was a sickly white colour and his cheeks appeared slightly gaunter every time I saw him, yet in a way, this only accentuated his facial features and made him look even more picturesque, though much more fragile. His eyelids were closed and for a few moments, Drew gave the impression that he was in a deep, peaceful slumber which he would soon wake from. His tiny body was curved slightly around the soft covers and every so often his pink, plump lips would part a few millimetres to let out a slow breathe of air. His cute, tiny nose constantly twitched and at certain moments, in certain lights, I could swear that his pink lips were turned up in a tight smile, as though he was having a pleasant dream. In that moment, he would no longer look so pale and the gauntness of his cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes would be put down simply to tricks my eyes were playing on me, and nothing more. The tubes keeping him alive would disappear miraculously and the horrible hospital garb would be transformed into a pair of cute teddy bear pjs, a few sizes too big for his skinny frame, so that they billowed around him for extra warmth. It would also no longer be the pillow he clutched close in his sleep and smiled lazily at, but me.

And for a few painful moments, I would be so certain that I was there, and that Drew was too, that all this would be forgotten, a discarded memory in the back of my mind, of how things used to be, rather than how they were. Or perhaps I would even put it down to a bad dream, one that never seemed to end. A terrible dream that continued before me even when my eyes were open, even when I was wide awake and here at work.

"Morning Kier" I heard a familiar voice shout from the door, and I turned my gaze a moment to spot doctor Luke stood proudly in the doorway, a cold smile hanging on his lips. The doctor had his large designer coat still hanging from his frame and a cup of coffee fresh from Costa clasped close in his left hand, making it easy to assume that he had just got in to the hospital for the day, and decided to check on Drew before his shift officially started.

"Morning" I replied solemnly, trying to make my tone sound cheerful, but failing miserably. I had been here, perched in this uncomfortable little chair, all night, and right now, with Drew out cold and showing no signs of improvement, I wasn't in a mood to be happy or even pretend to be for other people. It was my fault Drew was here after all. It was my leaving that provoked his sudden suicide attempt, and nothing any of the other doctors or nurses could say on the matter would discourage me.

Luckily, Luke seemed to understand that I wasn't in a mood to talk and began checking Drew's readings straight away, not bothering with anymore pointless small talk or stupid, annoying questions of how my morning had been and stuff like that . Luke was surprisingly good like that lately, and even though I hadn't been talkative of late about my problems, he didn't push me to answer his careful questions or even talk about my confused feelings, merely ensured me that he would always be there when I was ready to talk to him, if I ever was. I was grateful for that much, and so much more besides. Ever since Drew's accident, the great doctor seemed to have donned yet another personality and had been nothing but supportive since the accident, even going so far as to give me a few hours off my medicinal studies each day to visit Drew in his new room and view his progress. Sadly, the younger boy hadn't progressed at all, and although he wasn't getting worse, it still wasn't the news I was hoping for.