Waiting With Death

Chapter 3:

Cassedy opened her eyes and looked around. Her father sat at the edge of her hospital bed, holding her hand. He was stroking her hand, repeating her name out loud. "Cassedy, Cassedy. My little Cassedy." She sat up on the bed. "It's alright, dad. I'm ok, now." She stood up off the bed and grabbed onto the railing of the bed. "Cassedy." 

She turned around to face her dad. "I'm up, dad. See, all bet-" She stopped when she saw him. He hadn't moved, he was still at the edge of her bed, still holding her hand. She was still lying on the hospital bed, eyes shut and hooked up to tubes. But she was standing next to the bed, wasn't she? She was sure of it, she squeezed the rail with all her might until her knuckles turned white. Almost transparent, it seemed. "What? What's going on? Dad! Dad, can you hear me!?" 

"He can't hear you," a mysterious voice said from behind her. She turned around to see a dark figure in the corner, a guy that looked around her age with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. He stepped out of the corner to reveal dark jeans and a black hoodie. There was something off about him and Cassedy took a step back. "Who are you?" she asked. 

He looked at Cassedy laying on the bed as he stood next to her. "Do you know what's happening to me?" she asked him. He nodded, "I'll explain it all in time, Cassedy." She frowned, "How do you know my name?" He turned towards her, crossing his arms across his chest. "I'm Grim, better known as the grim reaper." 

Just then, Cassedy's mother walked in the room. Shaun looked up, "What did you tell him?" Rosanne sighed and walked closer to the bed. "I told him that she had to get some tests done to make sure her cancer was getting better. I don't want to tell him just yet." Aiden, they were talking about Aiden. Cassedy looked down at her body still on the bed. "Am I dead?" Grim looked down at the ventilator pumping air into her. "Not as long as that thing is going, but you're not going to get any better." 

Cassedy stared at her parents, holding onto each other as they look at their daughter laying unconscious on the bed. They didn't know that she might as well have already been gone. But that couldn't be right, she was right here. She grabbed onto the bed railing, squeezing it again with her hand. "Why can't I get better?" He tapped her temple gently with his finger. "Your brain is too damaged from the lack of oxygen to be able to heal to the point of reactivating the brain stem." 

Cassedy stared at him confused. "I can never wake up?" Grim shook his head. She sat down in the hospital chair on the other side on the bed. Her mother brushed Cassedy's hair out of her face and Cassedy watched a tear trail down her mom's face. "When will they know?" she asked quietly. He looked at doctor's chart at the end of the bed. "Looks like they're taking you in for a brain scan in the morning. When those results get back, they should be able to tell your parents." 

Cassedy looked at the hope that was dimly lighting her parent's eyes. "How long do the results take?" He shook his head, "It could be a while...maybe you should focus on preparing yourself?" She nodded, tuning him out. She was dead, well, dying. Grim was standing in front of her, talking but she wasn't listening. How could she not be here? She was sitting right there, a few feet away from her parents. How could they not see her? It didn't make sense..

"Cassedy? Did you hear what I just said?" He waved his hand in front of her face. She jerked her head up, startled. "What?!" He tensed slightly. "I asked if there anyone you want to go see? They won't be able to see you but you'll be able to see them." She looked at her parents, where was Aiden? Did they leave him alone, was he with the sitter? The Dyers hired a elderly lady, Mrs. Winslow, to watch the kids when they weren't there. Aiden hated her, he said she always smelled like Windex and smoke. She looked up at him from the chair, "Can we go see my brother? I want to see him." 

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Aiden was at Mrs. Winslow's house since she didn't have a car that she could use to drive over. Mrs. Winslow was asleep in her rocking chair, her knitting magazine spread over her lap. She always seemed to be asleep. She was ancient, as Aiden liked to call her; but really she was somewhere in her 80's. Aiden was is sitting on her antique floral couch with his knees up to his chest, staring out into space.