In Love With My Gay Friend (EDITING)

Chapter twenty five

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Thanks for continuously reading this book.

And about three and four more chapters before epilogue. I don't knowwww. OMG! I cant breatheeee!

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Chapter Twenty Five

Andee Moran

        I didn't know what had happened. And I felt like I've been driving for forever.

        Since the call Ellis made I swear, I knew I was worst than a madman in distress. I felt like a big bag of air had been knocked out of my lungs. Or, to be more exact, it was like my lungs got caught off and I couldn't almost breathe anymore.

       I ran my trembling fingers at my hair and back and forth. And I felt like screaming. And my brain was about to explode. And my heart was about to jump off my mouth. I felt horrible. I felt hurt.

        No. I wasn't okay to begin with.

       I felt worst now as I came closer to the hospital. I was afraid to find her lying there with loads of bruise, cuts, fractures, no memory at all or much worst, dead.

       I punched myself internally. I couldn't think of such now. I need to be strong for Joey's sake. Like, come on. She needed me. And I need to be strong for her. I need it though I know sooner or later I'm going to break down.

      I parked at some opened lot and I busted my way out, rushing towards the door and on the counter. I could feel my hands cold, dead and shaking. My head swirling with thousands of words. But mostly of them was all JOEY.

     I swallowed, though I knew there weren't anything. Dry. Worse than a sand paper. "Uh-Joey? Joey Lerman, please?" My voice hoarse.

      The lady, in her mid-forty, looked at me then down at her clipboard. She nodded her head before frowning at me. "Ah. She's currently on ER 170."

       I stood still before backing out, nodding. ER? You meant, Emergency Room? Was she safe? Where the was Ellis? I stepped in the elevator and the room number kept shouting at my head.

        170.

        170.

        170.

        170.

        Joey.

        Joey.

        Joey.

        Like a mantra. Over and over again. I arrived at the floor. And I stepped out. And somehow, I felt like a cement suddenly was poured on my feet. I couldn't walk anymore. And I looked straight, it was expanding. Going away. Moving. Away. Away from me.

      I then pulled what's left on my strength to walk more. Just a little more. And you'll see her. You'll be of great use to her.

       No, Andee. It was your fault for being a dicktwat and not being there to look after her protection.

        Yes.

       It was my fault. MY fault. MY DÄMN FAULT. Blame it all to me. If I was there to call her and tell her I'll be going home with her. Or, be there instead in the stupid Student Council Room

      Or, instead of prioritizing those stupid paper works. I wish I had been there. I wish I became more responsible. But it's too late to blame things. And right now, I want to see her. I NEED to see her.