Who Are You?

Chapter 3

Mark had always hated the hospital; it brought back too many repressed memories. The waiting room was filled with the same air of desperation as it had back then and the receptionist sitting behind the glass panel carried the same look of forced sympathy. 

Mark hurriedly approached her, slamming his hands down on the cold, metal counter. She looked up at him, the white light of her computer reflected onto her face. "Ethan Nestor?" Mark asked, his crazed eyes finding her's. 

"Relation?" Her eyes scanning his face before turning back to the computer.

"Friend."

"There were a few people listed in his emergency contact," she said, her voice dripping with an overdose of sugar. "Name?"

"Mark Fishbach." 

A few more clicks of the mouse. "Date of birth?"

"28/6/1989." Mark leaned forward in anticipation. "Okay." She hit a button and the door to the left slowly opened, revealing a white stretch of hallway and mingling nurses. "Room 33."

Mark nodded and took off at a brisk pace. Room 33 was at the end of the hallway. Mark knocked on the door, not waiting for a reply before opening it. The room was quiet other than the occasional beep and the muttering of Kat and Tyler form two plastic chairs next to the white bed. On the bed lay a figure, swallowed, it seemed, by the pale sheets and green pillows. 

It was Ethan, a scratch covering his pale cheek bone and covered with a tan strip of bandage. Bruises covered most of his right arm, turning blue and purple and an alarming shade of green, that was peeking just slightly above the sheets. The other arm looked better: clean except for the few scratches that littered the pale flesh. His hair was matted, dirt covering his forehead. He lay sleeping, lips pouting slightly. An oxygen tube poked out of his nose and snaked its way across his cheek. His normal clothing had been removed; all that remained was a green hospital dress. 

"Mark," Kat said. It was all she said as Mark walked around the bed, touching the sheets. His fingers barely missing the pale wrist that lay open on the bed. 

"Did they say how?" Mark asked.

"Drunk driver. Ethan had stopped at a stop sign when he was hit. The doctors say he was 'lucky.'" Mark noted the carefully masked anger in Tyler's voice. 

"Lucky is sitting in the office safe and laughing along with the rest of us." Mark had the same forced quite in his voice as Tyler. 

"I know. I know." Mark looked over at Kat, taking note of her bored voice. His eyes followed the arm that was outstretched, holding onto the spare pillow with a clenched fist adorned with white knuckles. He looked up to her face, her mouth turned down into a disapproving frown while her eyes showed her dismay at the situation. 

"You're allowed to feel emotion, Kat," Tyler said. 

"I know. I just want to stay strong. For Ethan. He's laying in bed after being hit by a car and I am the one who's about to start blubbering." She took off her glasses and rubbed them on her pants. 

"You do not have to stay strong," Tyler said. His voice had lost the edge of anger was instead wavering with grief. "Ethan wouldn't want you to pop like that."

"Yeah." Mark had pulled up another chair, the plastic legs scarping on the linoleum floors. "I think Ethan would be happy to just wake up at this point." 

Tyler nodded. A tear dripped onto Kat's t-shirt. The room was held in a mournful silence. There was breathy gasp, sudden and intrusive to the mourning thoughts of the inhabitants. Three pairs of eyes flicked their blurry gazes up to the petite figure in the bed. Hazel eyes flicked open, flicking around the room. Ethan's chest heaved as if trying to catch his breath after a long run. Mark watched his face crumple with pain as a hand found his way to his rib. 

Tyler sprung up, the back of the chair making a bombastic noise as it hit the ground. He hit the red button on the wall, hand snaking between the layers of cords and tubes. "Ethan," he gasped, bending over the younger man. 

Ethan scanned the room, eyes finally landing on Tyler's desperate face. "Tyler?"

"Yeah. It's me." Tyler had started crying again. "Kat and Mark are here, too." Their hands clasped as Ethan took the hand off of his rib, probably broken. 

Ethan looked at Kat who had taken up position on the other side of the bed, her own hand finding Ethan's. She had started crying in a more desperate manner. "Thank god, Ethan. Thank god," she muttered between shaky breathes.

 Ethan smiled gently toward her. "It's okay, Kat. I'm here. I'm here." 

Mark started toward the bed from his frozen position in his now isolated chair. "Ethan. I-" Mark started before freezing at the sight of an obviously confused look coming from the bed. 

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" 

Mark froze as his world became those two eyes, each the size of his whole world in that minute.