Winters First Blood

The Decision

   
     I can hear my father on the phone in the other room, his low rich voice audible only by the rumble from his chest. There isn't a single word I can make out from his chatter, his voice rushed and panicked. Titus sits beside me at the table, entertaining my thirteen year old self by showing me the new phone his mother bought him for an early birthday present. Titus and I both look up as my dad enters the room, the look on his face grim and filled with what looks like hopelessness.

" I'm so sorry," he whispers, enticing a cocked eyebrow from Titus and I.

"It's Michael, he's in the hospital," My father looks me in the eye just as my heart drops to my stomach, a choking sound coming from Titus.

"We have to go now, he won't last much longer," my father murmurs, his words falling on deaf ears as he pulls us from our seats forcefully.

It's like time stopped and decided to stand still, the world passing by my gaze as if through a reflection on a glass window. I can't feel the hand that grips onto my arm, I can't even feel the hand curled into mine as Titus grips it tightly as if to anchor himself to the reality of our situation. The car ride towards the hospital is a blur of hazy images and soft cries as Titus chokes on his own attempts to keep quiet.

Michaels mom meets us in the lobby just as we enter, her arms wrapping around Titus and I as she sobs into my shoulder. I can't hear her reassured murmurs, the words not processing as she speaks. The only thing that finally snaps me from my daze is the body laying on the hospital bed, the heavy wheezing breaths leaving the person sounding pained.

"Titus, Lylan," a voice rasps softly, each letter a struggle through a damaged face.

"Michael," I whisper softly, unaware of myself moving closer to him.

"Who did this," Titus hisses from behind me, his tone pained and anguished.

"Imperia," he smiles at us softly, the look on his face one of acceptance.

I reach forward slowly and as gently as I can I brush the hair from his forehead, glad when he doesn't flinch away from my touch. I don't need to see the damage for myself to know he doesn't have long, the deep purple bruising on his chest visible through the holes in his shirt. The shirt itself seems to have been left alone for one reason, it's the only thing stopping his intestines from slipping out of his body as the blood dries the shirt to his skin.

"I should have listened," he coughs before he can finish, the motion causing fresh blood to drip down his chin.

"Don't speak, it's alright Michael just rest," I whisper softly as his mother walks in from the hallway, a doctor at her side.

The doctor stands beside her with a morphine drip on the tray behind him as a nurse trails him, a sad look in her eyes.

"Don't waste the drip, he's already slipping," I murmur gently, petting his hair as his breathing begins to rattle loudly.

Titus excuses himself with a soft sob, not able to watch any longer. Even his mother turns away as his eyes drift close finally, a smile on his face. I continue to pet his hair even as the breathing rattles one final time in his chest, the loud death rattle practically branding itself into my mind.

The doctor takes the time of death beside me, excusing himself and the nurse as Michaels mother weeps loudly in the chair beside her son's dead body. The feeling inside of me has no description, there are no words to define this moment nor are there any words to explain it.

I can only stand there with a hand in his hair as the familiar warmth of his body melts away into the room itself, as if he was here one moment and gone the next. In reality that is exactly what happened, he was smiling at me one moment and then dead the next.

"Let's go Lylan," a voice urges me slowly, my mind listening to it as if from under water.

I snap out of my own thoughts for a moment, having never realized how long I had actually been thinking. I check my surroundings with a confused look, not remembering how I made my way back from the room and into the lobby.

"Lylan," Titus speaks softly, tugging at my arm as he looks down at me.

I look up at him with a soft and gentle expression, reaching up to pull on his shoulders. He bends over a little as he looks at me uncertainly, a confused gaze on his face. I pull him into me gently, dragging him into a hug.

"What do we do, his mom said he didn't say anything about who did it," Titus whispers to me, his voice cracking as he speaks.

"Don't worry," I murmur softly, petting his hair gently as he slides his arms around my waist.

"Are we doing this ourselves," he chokes, his finger tips tight on my waistline.

"Ya, but not right now let's just go home," I move away from him slowly, moving towards my father as he waits at the exit for us with Michaels mother.

We move away quietly, our own thoughts coursing through our heads and causing our own versions of how tomorrow plans to look.

All photos found and edited by fox0107