Between Logan and Jamie {complete}

Logan: 19.

Another chapter from the charming Immy. Look at her work via the dedication. She's such a fast writer, what a babe.

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Jenna hesitated. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I said, sitting on a stool facing a wall. I didn’t want to turn around because I could see the ward.

“Logan, you might feel better if-”

“I don’t want to talk,” I said flatly.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Would you like me to drive you home?”

“No,” I said. “Just leave me alone.”

“Okay,” she said, and the hurt in her voice was nearly hidden, but I could still hear it. I knew I should turn around, sigh and apologise like I usually did. I knew I should turn around and tell her I was hurting and I needed her, but I couldn’t do it. Instead, I waited until her footsteps were no longer audible, and then I ran.

I ran out of the room, out of the building, out of the hospital. I ran to the bus stop and when the bus came I curled up on one of the chairs, scrunching up as tightly as I could. Maybe if I stopped thinking about it, it wouldn’t be true.

Stop thinking about it. How could I stop thinking about it?

My phone hissed and flashed at me, trying to get my attention, and it frustrated me so much I threw it at the window with as much force as I could create. People gasped and squealed in shock as it hit the window and fell to the ground unscathed. I screamed in annoyance and stood up, picking up the phone and pressing the ‘stop’ button on the bar of the bus.

“Stop,” I muttered, pressing it and hearing the ‘bing’ over and over again.

The bus pulled up and I got off, to sighs of relief, and I ran again. I hated running but now it was the only thing I could do. Run away from everything. The further away I got from Jamie, the more it seemed like she was happy and healthy.

I stopped suddenly. Healthy. Six months. Chronic lymphocytic leukaemia. My vision blurred, and I sat down on the street, right next to the main road. I curled up into a ball and cried, screaming as I did so. I couldn’t believe that Jamie was sick, and terminally sick at that – she’d lied to me for God only knows how long and I didn’t know anything about it. I hadn’t guessed, and she’d just lied about it; how was I supposed to help and get over it if she couldn’t tell me? Why hadn’t she told me?

“Logan?”

I looked up to see someone familiar leaning out of the car window. “Coby?” I asked weakly, wiping my eyes hurriedly. Coby couldn’t see me like this.

“What the hell, why are you on the side of the road?” he asked, confused. “Are you crying?”

I went to speak, but broke down. Susie was by my side in an instance, helping me up and into the car. I curled up in the back seat and managed to get out the story in a nutshell, screaming about how it wasn’t fair and how she was going to die. Coby didn’t say anything, and Susie couldn’t bring herself to say anything, but she looked ill at the thought of Jamie dying. Or maybe she felt ill at the sight of me being so upset; she’d never seen me cry before.

“Logan, do you want to stay at ours?” Coby asked, as we neared my flat.

“No,” I said, managing to halt my crying enough to say one word.

“Alright,” he said. “Do you want me to stay?”

I shook my head, unable to speak. He helped me out of the car, knowing that I needed to be alone, and then he opened my door for me. “At least let me stay for a little while?”