Monster.

Chapter Twelve

There he was. Lying in the back of an ambulance. Burnt and bruised, but still there.

And I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life.

I ran to him, wanting to be back in his arms and to apologize my heart out for leaving him. I pushed forward, using all the adrenaline I had to go as fast as I can. A few of the paramedics pulled me back, stopping me. I started to scream.

“No! Let me be with him!” I cry, trying to break out of their grasps.

“He’s my best friend!!” I yell, pulling one arm out of someone’s hand, but it was caught again. It clicked in my brain. I knew why they were stopping me. I couldn’t just run up to him and hug the life out of him.

I could literally kill him with a hug.

The few patches of visible skin were deathly pale and he was hardly breathing. Even though he made it out of the fire, there was a chance he wouldn’t continue. I wasn’t stupid.

He was dying.

‘Oh, I wonder who did that to him.’ It whispers viciously. I sigh, some of the joy I was feeling washing away as I once again as I remember why he was like that.

“We have to go!” A paramedic shouted, hopping in the back of the ambulance. They led me and Niall there as well, laying us down in a few spare beds that were in the back. Charlie was the only one who had things hooked up to him. We quickly began speeding down the rocky road, going as fast as possible. It would still be another half an hour before we reached the nearest hospital.

So we waited. There was a man with us in the back, calmly telling us it would be alright, we just had to sit tight until we got to the hospital. But, I knew he was lying. I could see his concern in his eyes. He knew just as well as I did that if we were a second too late, Charlie would be gone.

Niall and I were on either side of him. The middle was the safest place to be and that’s why he was there. His burnt arm was hanging off the side of the bed slightly.

I turn my head to look over at Charlie. His usually bright, happy eyes were shut closed. If we were didn’t get there in time, they may not open.

‘That should be you, not him.’

The pain killers they had injected into me were still going strong, though they had worn off in the slightest bit. The burns did what they did best and hurt me, but I couldn’t imagine what kind of pain Charlie had gone through before he went unconscious. His condition was far more severe than ours. We wouldn’t have to stay in the hospital for too long. He might not even make it to the hospital. And even though I was more than happy Charlie made it out, I was terrified. I just got him back and I wasn’t prepared to lose him again. It was bad enough the first time.

I slowly and carefully reached my hand out from my sides and let in dangle off the edge. I allowed it to move closer to Charlie’s until my fingertips were just barely brushing his hand. His usually soft, pale-ish hand was instead a bright red, almost brown color with blistered standing out on the entire surface. But I didn’t care. I let my fingers loosely intertwine with his. I turned my head back to its original position and stared at the ceiling of the ambulance, the sirens of it ringing in my ears. My hand never once moved from Charlie’s.

I felt like if I let go, I would lose him. So I kept it there, holding on for mine, and seemingly his, life.

We drove for what felt like years. Each second I could feel him become colder and weaker, but he kept breathing. Even in his unconscious state he was in a lot of pain. You could practically feel his discomfort.