Scömìchelle

Eight

I'm so, so sorry.

I just started my second year of college and my life sucks at the moment.:/

Anyway, here's chapter eight.

20-30 comments and 20-30 votes for the next chapter? :3

HERE WE GO!

WARNING: mentions of self-harm, panic attack

The hospital was cold.

My sweater failed to keep me warm, my gelid hands trying to keep me warm. Kirstie was looking at nothing, looking like she was about to break. I don't blame her though. In a course of two months,her dad and sister landed in the hospital. Gerald died and when we came to the hospital, the head surgeon for Michelle's case told us: 

"She might not survive the surgery. Her torso was stabbed ten times and her legs were stabbed eight times. We're going to try as hard as we can to save her. Just prepare yourself."

Just prepare yourself. 

My mind is a desolate cave, those words echoing in every inch of my worrisome mind. I hated those words. I just want Michelle to be okay.

Is that too much to ask for? 

"Scott?"

I looked up from my lap, looking over a Kirstie. She snapping the rubber band on her wrist, the self-mutilated scars stood out to me. They made her porcelain skin look weak, broken yet she was anything but. If she was, I will try everything in my power to fix her. 

Even if that takes the attention away from me trying to fix myself.  

"Yeah, sweetheart?" I questioned softly, not wanting to startle her. I frowned when Kirstie began to cry, my legs making me stand up right away.  "Kirst, don't cr-"

"Don't you dare tell me not cry!" Kirstie yelled, making me jump. People looked over at us, their eyebrows raised in concern or annoyance from Kirstie's breakdown. "My sister is dying, Scott! my dad died here not too long ago and my mom died here too so DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME TO NOT  CRY!"

Tears began to climb down my cheeks as Kirstie practically threw herself on the ground, sobbing loudly. Everyone's eyes were on us, but I ignored them. I fell on knees too, my sobs shaking the both of us as we cried. As we were crying, a doctor walked up to us. I immediately stood up, Kirstie following me slowly. He looked grim, grey as he looked at us seriously. Kirstie began to sob loudly again, bringing tears to my eyes.

She can't be.

She can't be.

She ca-

Everything became blurry as the doctor began to talk, but I couldn't pay attention. I heard more crying, but I was long gone. My chest was tight, making it hard to breathe as I made it to a seat.

Water. I need water. 

The room was moving now. I stayed still, my eyes watering once more that night when I realized the angry and inevitable hands of anxiety were dragging me down. I heard someone yell my name, but I was far gone. The voice in my head was the last thing I heard before anxiety's hands took away my vision.

Michelle is dead, because of me. I should have protected her.

~~~

"Scott? Scott, wake up. You gave us a scare."

I groaned slightly, my eyes burning and my throat begging for water. I looked around, my surroundings blurry once more. I was confused, my mind a jumbled mess as I tried to put the mess of the puzzle back together.