Save Me

Waiting Room

-Ryker

People always say, "no news is good news." Well I'm not sure that's the case. In fact, no news was absolutely killing me at the moment. Helplessly, I sat in the stale room, air smelling of antiseptic and white walls and floors bright enough to blind someone. There was an almost constant sound of footsteps, bringing me false hope of an arriving doctor. Every time the stupid double doors swung open that read 'staff only' I would perk up, hoping for some kind of word. Anything would be better than this feeling of not knowing.

That didn't happen though. Each time it would just be a nurse, or some other person clothed in scrubs who would walk briskly to the counter and exchange a few hushed words with the receptionist. I'd watch pathetically as they would return to the depths of the ER, two heavy doors swinging behind them, cutting them off from a room full of impatient, patients.

What could be taking so long!

I jumped to my feet, unable to sit still .

Don't be stupid! She was stabbed!

I argued with myself for a good five minuets, pacing around the room like a caged animal. My hand fisted in my hair as always, tugging slightly with my growing agitation. A soft smile touched my lips. If Lex were here, she'd grab my hands and insist I stop before I go bald. But she's not here, she's laying on a cold, metal operating table somewhere in the depths of the hospital. The smile vanished. If she . .

"Ryker!" Lance's voice snapped me to attention, freezing me in my spot. "Even the fish are on edge 'cause of yo constant pacin'!" He stood there, looking slightly ridiculous in my cloths, gripping two white styrofoam cups of coffee. His outfit would have been laughable if it hadn't been for the situation in which he wore it.

The pair of my jeans he'd borrowed were rolled at the bottom, obviously to long for him. The blue sweatshirt hung loosely from his arms, the sleeves ridiculously long on him, drooped over his hands and dangerously close to the steaming liquid within the cups. I was unable to see the teeshirt beneath the hoodie, but something told me it was big on him too. Luckily, his shoes were fine, I don't think he could've walked in a pair of mine. His sneakers were about the only articles of clothing that didn't have blood on them. Blood. Lexington's blood.

"Ryker?" Lance called to me again, trying to get my attention.

"Hmm?"

"Seriously, for the fish's sake, sit down an' drink some coffee." Lance smiled weakly, attempting to lighten my mood. He gestured to the fish tank, it was a fancy one, built into the wall so you could see it from two rooms. The colorful fish floated around peacefully, unaware of the daily chaos and mental torture happening around them.

Stiffly, I lowered myself on to the cheesy looking couch that you'd definitely only find in a hospital waiting room. Lance sat next to me, holding out a cup for me to take. I took it, sipping the dark liquid gratefully, happy for a small distraction.

"How are her parents?"

"Upset, angry, confused, scared."

"So not handling it well?"

"Their daughter was stabbed, Ryker."

"You don't think I know that?!"

"Yes! Look, I'm sorry man, I know what she means to ya, b-"

"No, I don't think you do." I snapped a little more harshly than I meant too.

"Actually, I do. She's my family, I love her too. Not the way ya do, but love her nonetheless."

"You don't under-"

"She's your match. Right?" My head snapped up, turning in his direction so fast, I nearly spilled my coffee.